Just Do it

July 11, 2008

Berkeley, California

This whole thing started when Scooter passed out while planting a rose bush in my backyard. After only a couple minutes of digging he was sweating like a priest at a Boy Scout Jamboree, so I went in to get him a glass of water. To my horror I returned to find poor Scooter unconscious in the dirt, his head in the hole! Not knowing what to do, I turned the hose on him, figuring he was overheated. Whether it was the cooling effect or not being able to breathe when the hole filled with water, Scooter quickly recovered. I sent him home while I planted the bush myself. 

It's no secret that Scooter is horribly out of shape. As you'd expect of someone who was on the bowling team during his nine years in college, he was at one time very athletic, but now has the general shape and muscle tone of a giant sea slug. With a severe sunburn Scooter's color could best be described as "chalky," and the last time he tried to lift one of those five-gallon water bottles he ended up with a double hernia, a near-fatal case of hemorrhoids, and three pulled muscles, including the one under his tongue. Anyway, after the rose bush incident Scooter decided he was going to get back into shape by running. I knew I could also use the exercise, so I told Scoots I'd run with him. We agreed to meet at my house the next morning at six a.m.

At seven forty-five Scooter arrived decked out in literally hundreds of dollars worth of new running shoes, socks, pants, shirt, jacket, wrist/headbands, and water bottles, all festooned with huge corporate logos from Puma, Adidas, Nike, Reebok, etc. To me he looked more like a rap star than an athlete, but if it makes him want to exercise, more power to him. After unloading his sack of protein bars, protein shake mix, and a six-pack of Mountain Dews, he proceeded to "carb up" for our run. After consuming two big mugs of protein shake, a bunch of bars, two mountain Dews, and maybe seven or eight cigarettes, Scooter pronounced himself ready to run. We were off!

For only nine in the morning it was amazingly hot, and after several minutes of running I was on the verge of perspiring. I turned around to check on Scooter and though he gave me the thumbs-up, he didn't look so great. Beside the fact he'd apparently wet his pants, his white face was drenched in sweat and he was noticeably foaming at the mouth and nose, which didn't seem normal. As I watched Scooter run, I couldn't help but picture him competing in the Special Olympics, as he had a similar running style to some of their less-talented athletes I'd seen. Suddenly these thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Track Star Scooter stumbling into a driveway and projectile-vomiting carbs all over the trunk of my neighbor's new Buick! Game over!

 While I'm of the opinion he tried to do too much too soon, Scooter insists his inability to run even a short distance was due to his congenital birth defect of "spastic arches." Thankfully he's decided to return to a more familiar field of endeavor - we're going bowling as soon as he finishes carbing up on polish sausages and beer....