Hair is the mane event

I went to the gym yesterday. A mundane occurrence for most people, and so it should be for me as well? Wrong. First off, the gym intimidates me. Other people seem quite comfortable there, and there are weights, and also machines that look like a medieval torture devices, and yeah, a lot is going on that makes me want to turn around and leave immediately.

But I am training for a significant endurance/strength/running event, so I have to put in gym time. Yesterday’s training guide had me running a fast 5K. Ha. I haven’t run a fast 5K since high school. I am twenty pounds heavier and infinitely more out of shape since then. But to quote a Chinese proverb, “a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step” — I’m not sure they meant it literally, but here we are.

After pumping myself up, I get on the treadmill. I put on my headphones, and off we go. The 3 miles go okay for the most part. I’m listening to music, looking around, checking out the guys (yes, I admit it.) In addition, I am working up a bit of sweat. I think about something I once heard about Matthew McConaughey in which he stated something to the effect of that his rule was to break a sweat a day. Good for Matt, but I determined that I was not “all right, all right, all right” with that sentiment.

The three miles finally end, and I stumble off the treadmill and into the locker room. It is there that I catch a glimpse of “the hair.” Apparently, my hair has frizzed out with the sweat and general gym atmosphere, and I look a tad disheveled. It is akin to any…