"I'm of average height." This is how a guy I'm meeting tomorrow for breakfast described himself. I decided against giving him a description back, since I know I'll pick him out at Coffeeshop that early. But I would have said I'm "medium." That's what I figure I am: 5'9", 160lbs. Alas, perhaps not. Tonight I wore home a new Asics running shirt I picked up the other night, with the express purpose of using it when I run home from work. Last Friday, after I changed for my run in my cubicle, a colleague saw my garb and asked about the circle stains around my nipples. It's hard to explain, "Oh, that's just from Vaseline," and not feel like a weirdo. Anyway, I grabbed a blue shirt, size medium. When I put the thing on at the office -- now changing in the video room near my cube -- the sleeves came down to my elbows and the shirt came down halfway down my thighs. OK, if I'm not a medium in the general, overweight American populace, surely I am among my scrawny runner brethren, right? KT smartly suggested that it fits with my theory that the Second Running Boom is filled with "Oprah types" who run for health, not pigdog slaying, could explain the sizing issue. Or I'm fooling myself. We'll see how I measure up with Mr. Average in the morning.
Breakfast: orange juice, bagel with cream cheese, coffee
Lunch: turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomato. BBQ potato chips
Snack: banana, Cliff Bar
Dinner: pasta, tomato sauce with vegetables and sausage
6.5 miles, 49:49