As per my previous post, I occasionally consider myself somewhat of an athlete. Unfortuntely, I also occasionally consider myself somewhat of an alcoholic. Now, "alcoholic-athlete" doesn't quite have the same ring to it as "student-athlete", so I decided something had to be done. My solution? I signed up for a Running Clinic that meets weekly at 8am on Saturday mornings. Hard to get hammered when you know you have to be up at 7am the next day to run 15km, no? I know, I know - it's brilliant.
Anyway, last night (a Friday) I went out for dinner with an old roommate and some friends. Despite the fact that I was quite clear about my low-drinking status, my dinner companions insisted on attempting to feed me as much alcohol as possible. This included some of the most insistent peer pressure I've ever seen this side of an after school special. ("You can run anytime!", "Just have one more beer...", "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" were just some of the ridiculous things they said.) Towards the end of the evening, the following conversation occurred:
Ex Roommate (clearly intoxicated): "You may be able to run 15k, but I could tackle you inside the first 100 metres."
JohnnyM: "Really? I'm not so sure about that."
Friend #1: "Yeah - I'd agree. My money's on John on this one."
Which is how I found myself, half an hour later, on Yonge Street getting ready for a footrace between the Rose and Crown and The Duke of Kent. As we stood there, waiting for some of the pedestrian traffic to clear up and the race to start, I pondered exactly how I managed to find myself in this situation, and came to the realization that maybe it was time to make some serious changes in my life. As the race started, and I took off - yes, sprinting from one bar to another down the busiest street in Toronto - I realized that I'm really not a man in any true sense of the word. More like a child.
BTW, I kicked his ass. And in reality, I fully expect my juvenile behaviour to continue. I just want to make it clear that I'm very much aware of it.
Welcome to JTC Inc.
Chaps: because if they had an ass, they'd just be called pants.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
I'm Not a Man. More Like a Child.
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1 comment:
Was Mr. Bevilacqua there to fire the starting gun?
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