I'm a Beer Runner now!

Last Thursday I joined a local running club. After a month of doing virtually no exercise, it felt good to get out. I realized that I was a little out of shape and so was going to have to take it slowly. The run was perfect for that--it was a 2.9 mile jog to a place called The Prohibition Taproom.

I started off nice and easy like everybody else. Then somehow, through my own stupidity, I ended running behind the really fast guy who was trying to get in a short work out. Needless to say, that didn't last long. I found someone else who was running about my pace (Eric) and we jogged down to the bar. When I got there I felt surprisingly good.

After a few beers (That is the secondary--or primary, depending on who you ask--purpose of the club), I felt even better! That was when club president Dave asked me a question.

Dave: Do you need a ride back?

Stupid, moronic, hubris-filled, idiot Javier: No thanks. Is there anybody who wants to jog back with me?

I never left the house yesterday, and I'm still sore today. Let's see how I do next week.

Unemployment

As I write this post, I am entering my second month of unemployment. I had been at my last job for 10 years when I was unceremoniously let go. Of course I was not alone last month; I was one of 533,000 who have joined the now 10.3 million unemployed. The picture looks quite dismal.



The horrible thing is that the unemployment picture is actually much worse that the above picture would lead you to believe. You see, unemployment figures only measure the number of people who file unemployment claims with the government. A more sobering metric is percent employment: in other words, # people employed/population. Granted, this includes (as far as I know) children and retirees, but it also includes the multitudes who no longer qualify for unemployment benefits, or never qualified because they were employed part time, or have just given up looking for work. I know people in those categories.

Below is a chart (which I shamelessly stole from Paul Krugman) showing the trend of percent employment over the last 10 years.



What I'm seeing above is an honest representation of what the Bush XLIII presidency has done to the American worker. Bush has been a complete failure and his riddance is beyond good. But I'm not a veritable pessimist and I do have a great deal of hope for the future.

Hash House Harrier Run

Today I will be partaking in my first Hash House Harriers run. I've heard good things about these runs. For one, one need not be super fit to do it.

In most groups, all are welcome, young and old, fast or slow, so don't wait to get in shape, just come on out and join us.

Okay, I can do that. My biggesst worry is if I'll be able to follow all the rules. It seems this particular HHH group has strict rules which are enforced by the Religious Advisor. The penalty for violating a rule is to drink beer. I'm told that everyone violates the rules--I don't know if I can handle that.

To show how serious this all is, I will do the run dressed a a vicar. It should be fun.

UPDATE:

The run has been completed and I must say that I have found "my people." As you can see, the entire family got into the spirit of the run.



I should mention that my dad (wearing a pretty lame vicar's costume) is not wearing the tasteful tie my sister offered him as a gift. In fact, he resoundly refused it and so Stefan is wearing it in the picture.



When I asked him "Father, why do you not wear the beautiful tie your eldest daughter has so graciously furnished you with?"

He replied "Since my absolute disdain for the lie that is the Christian mythology is quite well known among my acquaintances, to be seen wearing that tie in public would be tantamount to wiping my ass with the tie, then using it to mop up cat vomit, before micturating all over it. I'm not quite ready to make that statement, but perhaps in the next couple of months I might consider doing to that tie what this fellow did to the Bible." (WARNING: potentially offensive video at previous link!)

That is what you said, Dad. Isn't it?