Saturday, August 23, 2014


 Everybody seems to be a runner in medical school. In years 1 and 2 there was always a new charity 5k every other weekend. At least 2 times a month, often more. 

Every so once in a while, I give into the peer pressure and agree to run with someone. But what my brain fails to forget, is that no one offers to open up running as a social activity, unless...they're already good at running. This will look easy, but this will not be anything close to the concept of easy. 

Because in exactly three minutes, 
this is the conversation I'm going to be having with myself.

Of course my answer is pretty obvious.


"You should get that checked out."

Yep. I'm at it again.

On a barely related note, I have recently reconnected with an old friend, Law, a few nights ago because he's been passing through town as he has a family medical issue that is progressing towards hospice. But the wonderful thing about this friendship is that everything and anything can be put on the table for a conversation topic. He particularly loves listen to my antics regarding men, because it reminds him of a lamer version of sex and the city.

I told him about running with Gun again, and Law just started laughing his ass off. "Uh! Oh! You know what that means!"

"I've already been turned down once. I don't think it means anything." I'm very stuffy in my response.

"Haha, just kidding. Working out with someone doesn't lead to fucking." He pauses. "It's late night conversations that lead to fucking."

"Well then, I'm screwed."

And then Law is hooting and hollering, ribbing me for more information. He tends to think that he uses me for an emotional crutch because his mom has cancer and he's afraid to burden people with his problems. But the guy has no idea how much a dumb, natural conversation like that reorients me back to reality.

My reality being that for once, I want to be working on self improvement, for myself. And if I'm going to date, the choice has to be more obvious than a sledge hammer.

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