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Well, my weight is a little on the heavy side and I feel like a slug. For the past couple of weeks, I started to go for runs on Saturday - ideally the ~5 mile loop between Marina Green and Fort Point (my favorite run bar-none). The first couple of runs meant a lot of walking breaks, and ultimately disappointing performance (should I be stressing about my speed and endurance - which I’m not). Last weekend I went up and visited the ‘rents which somehow translated into a “I’m not going to run at all this weekend” decision. Needless to say, there were definitely mixed feelings about running yesterday.

I was looking forward to doing something active, but loathing the physical pain that would be involved. I was careful in avoiding my tendency to redline off the start (my Garmin Forerunner is an excellent tool in that regard, among many others). That said, I was stupid and decided to throw in some short sprints for the hell of it. Yup, it was a dumb idea as my lungs and feet started to give me serious guff and I was forced into a walking break. I resumed running, but it was clear that my legs were just not happy, so at the 2 mile mark I decided to just sit down and do some people-watching. 10 minutes or so later, I was good to go and decided to slowly slog it and go for total distance in finishing the loop.

My legs seemed to be happy with this plan and I managed to finish out the loop without incident with one incident: Jamming with my iPod Shuffle (easily a close second behind the Forerunner as the most useful tools a runner can have - even if you have a hard drive-based iPod) towards the end of my run, I noticed I was getting particularly winded. I looked at the Forerunner and noticed that I had been running a consistent 6:30 minute mile! To put this into perspective, I’ve been running this route usually around a 10-11 minute mile. If I all-out sprint, I can usually manage a 6 minute, but not for very long (usually both my lungs and legs give out). And here I’ve been distracted enough by a song that I brought my pace up significantly without noticing - that is, until my lungs had had enough. My legs didn’t have any problems for the rest of the day and even tonight they’re only slightly sore.

Two “What the F?!” moments in one week… To say I’m a little curious what’s going on (never mind what a more aggressive or jammin’ song might do) would be a massive understatement.

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I’m an idiot when it comes to reading people sometimes. Really, I just need full-on, unmistakable signal flares and some dude with the landing torches that are used to guide pilots in parking large aircraft. I’m dumb. I admit it.

Last night I was down in LA for a sales event with Shawn, a guy from Sales. Shawn’s a stereotypical single straight guy, keen on watching women as they pass - intent on possibly, well, you know. Shawn’s a very personable kind of guy, not in a slimy Sales guy kind of way, just naturally conversational. As the event was winding down, I was speaking with a potential customer and Shawn started to get all excited. After the customer left our booth I asked him what was going on and he said that a particularly attractive woman happened to check me out as she walked by.

Could it be? After all this time of only being informed of getting scoped by gay men, that the opposite gender was checking me out? He pointed her out to me and I was almost blinded by the rock on her finger. Great. Gay men and married women. It’s an improvement, but not by a tremendous amount.

After relaying the aforementioned humiliating stories to Shawn and my resulting befuddlement - much to his amusement, I might add - we made our way to a bar to finish out the night, settling in next to a table of three attractive women +1 guy. Ordering a couple of beers, we chatted (yet paid attention to the more interesting blurtings from our neighbors) as we waited on a guy from LaCie to catch up with us. Boisterous conversation and rounds of Jägermeister going around at the table next to us, while explaining what happened next, still did not prepare me for it. I don’t know what Shawn and I were talking about, but the next thing I knew, the woman sitting closest to me got up, walked over to me and - I kid you not - started rubbing her hand through my hair.

I don’t know whose jaw dropped further or quicker, but clearly Shawn didn’t have a clue what to make of it either. It wasn’t a brief, “I’m gonna run my hand through his hair as I walk by” kinda thing - she was doing it for at least 20-30 seconds. Naturally, awkward conversation ensued and… well, isn’t that an awfully large diamond on her left hand! What the F? Conversation eventually got more relaxed with all 4 of our neighbors (and the LaCie guy who eventually showed up), but I never asked what the hell happened before our 4 neighbors took off for the evening.

So I ask you, my two faithful readers - what the hell just happened? And why did my appeal (whatever it might be) completely bypass single women and go straight to the married ones?

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