Cycling in the South Bay

Kristie talked me into jogging back in April, I think.

I didn’t especially like jogging because it gave me knee problems. My friends in college, Bob Doty and Hillel Ben-Avi particularly, were avid runners, as was my girlfriend Annette.

Kristie talked me into trying it again and I did. She gave me a few research articles to read about the unique effects that jogging has on producing certain myokines and their importance in the prevention of sarcopenia. If you’re ignorant like me, you don’t know shit about sarcopenia, but it’s basically the death knell because as your muscles wither, so does everything else. Turns out muscles aren’t just for breakfast anymore.

I jog without any shoes on and I jog slow partially because when you hit something barefoot it can hurt like fuck. I don’t like that.

But my slow doesn’t actually come from jogging barefoot, cf. Zola Budd. It comes from old and weak.

I jogged yesterday for ten miles. That’s the farthest I’ve ever run in my life. I stopped three or four times for pissing and because at the 8-mile mark my feet were so beaten up that every step felt like medieval foot torture, so I had to put on sandals.

I climbed about 1,600 feet in the first five miles, but was almost as slow going down as I was going up, averaging 13:47 per mile.

After jogging I was tired but had zero joint pain. Kristie says it’s because I do it barefoot. I am pretty proud of myself. Plus, I saw a pretty sunrise.

Did you?

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