I was cool with this whole work-from-home, no-dining-in-restaurants, don’t-hug-your friends dystopia until I realized I had to go an entire year without buying a new bike.
Virtual races are kind of like virtual barbeques. For the races, I don’t train as hard, strain as hard, or run as fast. For the barbeques, I don’t cook as much, stain as much, or pretend to have table manners.
It used to be that the only downside to lap swimming in the wintertime was the chlorine and people noticing I was fat.
I remember when I used to laugh at the people in the gym that spent more time wiping down the equipment than using it. Of course, that was back when we had gyms and wipes, and got to spend time with people indoors.
Remember early on when we thought wearing a gaiter over our faces while running would keep us safe then a small study from Duke came out and said gaiters were worse than no mask at all. Then doctors told us to just fold the gaiter double. Suddenly we felt smart, proactive, and fashion-challenged all at the same time.
My 2020 race season has been like a zombie movie only with less violence, more eating, and the same morbid curiosity about how it ends.
I used to think skeletons, vampires and werewolves were scary then I went through a quarantine, became obsessed with hygiene, and desperately wished for a vaccine.
Remember when “who was that masked man” somehow conveyed excitement.
I used to tell people that I ran trails to increase my autonomy. Now I just consider it antisocial distancing.
Bodyweight workouts: when you realize that you can’t buy weights and the only heavy thing you own is you.
Viruses, murder hornets, astroids; 2020 is kind of like someone gave the get-off-my-lawn guy a half-price coupon for armageddon.
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