Monday, November 29, 2010

Exercise Mode

It should be obvious to me that I have become extremely un-fit. Not as a father, just as the true Olympian that lives deep inside. I know what your thinking.... "No way Cousin Steve, you look great!!!"

You are a liar.

It seems that my personally form fitted Lazy Boy recliner may not have been such a good idea. I had always wonder why the chair came with oxygen and a defibrillator. Oh, but how I love that chair. It holds me like a ginormous mother cradling me in her arms and singing me gentle lullabyes that resemble my favorite tv shows.

Well, feeling like crap and not having a cold I decided to go to my family doctor. He gave me a physical to which I realized I may have a problem. My cardio had slid so bad that I felt I deserved a marathon medal for finishing a trip to the grocery store. On inspection, my doctor found that Thompson boy that had been missing for six days, he was living in one of my fat wrinkles. I don't know where he got an x-box and a flat screen, but he seemed kind of pissed when they returned him to his family. He had actually put on weight.

The doctor ran me through the gamut. He checked for moles and did blood work and checked for things that I didn't realize needed to be checked. I am happy to say, I can still push off the prostate exam for one more year, leaving my virginity intact. Doc decided that my numbers were still too high and figured he would add to my vast collection of meds. One was an injection into my thighs. That freaking hurts. Where did I go wrong???

I had had enough.

The time had come for me to take my life back stop employing an army of prescription making, selling, marketing, charging, and filling people. Sorry folks. I need to change my ways. I need freedom from side effects that cause me to need another medicine that causes the need for another.

It was on October 11th of this year, I was just screwing around on the laptop when I started to notice all these congratulatory comments for marathoners. It turns out that a couple friends of mine ran the Chicago Marathon the day before and were crazy excited about finishing. One of them, quit smoking a year earlier and decided to make her life right and run the marathon. Now she's a running addict. Then it dawned on me, that's what I need. I need a goal. Not just a lose 40 pounds goal. A gigantic goal. I was going to run the next Chicago Marathon. On 10-11-2011, I decided on running and finishing the Chicago Marathon.

Yup, my fat ass was in trouble.

My wonderful wife and I joined a health club and are four weeks into my marathon training. Every time I run, I proudly hold my head up high, take a deep breath, and wonder "WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING???!!!" But then the endorphins kick in, and I finish my half lap, walk it out and go home. People say, "How do you do it Steve?" I just turn to them and say, "Totalitarianism is precursor to a country that has no heart, man. Free Tibet!" What else is there to say.

Wish me luck. I am running in memory of my little sister Kate. She was a great runner. I only became a good runner in order to catch her when she wronged me. I was like Rocky Balboa frantically running around trying to catch the chicken. Katie was fast. Yup, like a chicken. (She would of killed me for saying that.)

Friday, October 22, 2010

The show must go on

It has been over a year since I deserted this, my oh so precious blog baby, and most any other link I had to regaining sanity. Depresion is a bitch. I need to regain the ground that I enjoyed so much. But can I dedicate the time?? I need to. I have so much more good material. It was a wonderful place to get lost in. Cousin Steve is fun.

I just wonder if this is still a valid medium? Is there anybody there? I can't blame anyone for walking away, even a pet rock would have perished. I am so tired of Facebook that I could throw up. Like 29 shots of Rumple Minze throw up. Speaking of, ever been so drunk that you thought milk would settle your stomach?? I have. Ha. It didn't end well.

So many great stories to tell. Like the aliens and the probe, my sex change, my sex change back, then I did it again, then back, then I was turned into a dog. Now I'm back. But I still run on all fours and drink out of a bowl by the back door. I'm just kidding, I don't run. You guys are so gullible.

Please comment, if you would like a Cousin Steve return. Inquiring minds want to know.