FOFMG Goes For a Run


FOFMG stands for Fat Old Frappuccino Maker Guy, of course. And you read it correctly! I went for a run! Two in fact.

I can’t believe I missed yesterday’s writing. Oh well.  I was a time-waster, to be sure.  I should have found withing myself some extra umph, as it were. But I didn’t. I spent the whole day doing genealogy on Ancestry.com, and the whole night playing Minecraft on my cell phone.  That’s how lazy I was.

During this time, I was recovering from my run the day before.  Yep, you heard me right. I’m running again. Well, to be generous, it should be called a lope.  It doesn’t even warrant calling it a jog.  I was waiting until I could walk 3 miles before I bought my running shoes. That milestone came after 3 1/2 months of work. It took me all of springtime, plus another 20 days, to get from waddling to running. That’s how out of shape I was.  But finally, last Friday, I marched around the lake, and did part of another loop (I measured it out), and got to 3 miles without too much self-torture.

And so on Father’s Day, the last day of Spring, I went out and got my “running shoes.” I tried earlier in the week–I went to Modell’s Sporting Goods here in town, after doing a fair bit of research on the kind of shoes I need.  Funny–“running shoes for fat guys” doesn’t figure into Modell’s R&D budget.  What they have instead is called “shoes with stability tread.” They’re for two demographics–folks with weak ankles, and fat guys like me.  Modell’s didn’t have shoes for either of us.

The guy even told me so. He gave me a look, and ran his hand through his bristly black hair and said, “Ohhh, we only have shoes for regular people. Sorry.”  Want to try these?  He brought out two big orange boxes with a swoosh on the side, and one with… God only knows what the symbol is for Asics. It looks like a flattened pigeon head or something. My size? Thirteen. Neither shoe fit, which is weird because I’ve always worn a twelve on my left foot, and a thirteen on my right, because I was born that way. They were so tight, I couldn’t even get my feet all the way inside them, even with the laces pulled fairly loose.  I said “Wow. This is a first.  Have you got any size fourteens?”  He just gave me that look again, and ran his hand through his bristly black hair again, and said “Sorry. We only have shoes for regular people.” So I left. I was a bit grouchy because I thought I was regular people, just large.

Then I went to the specialty shop. It’s called “Potomac River Running.” They take cash in exchange for rich people shoes.  Some of these shoes are upward of $8-900. Built in GPS in them. Chips that talk to your smartphone (or smartWatch). Not even kidding. All that aside, I like that store. I didn’t want rich people shoes. I just wanted fat people shoes.  This was a different kind of shop than Modell’s.  It was lots of neon, and short-fitting ankle socks and fanny packs with built in water bottles.  It was crowded when I got there.  Probably 25 customers. But I asked the guy, after about 30 minutes of window shopping, “Got any fat people shoes?”  And they did! He just smiled as he brought out 4 boxes. All in size 14.  I settled on New Balance (860v6, in case there are any shoe geeks out there), because my old balance hasn’t been all that great for me. They’re blue and white, and black.  Nothing lime green or clown-nose orange about my new running shoes.  I walked out $120 poorer. I expected the hit. I’d been saving up my tips for the last 4 weeks.

A brief note on shopping.  Ever notice how, when you just want to look over merchandise, you can’t get a salesperson to leave you alone, but when you want to find a shopkeeper to assist you, they’re nowhere in the store? They’re sitting in the back, drinking coffee gloating about how they sold that last guy those fat people shoes, but he called them stability treads and made a bundle.

So on Monday, the first day of Summer, I took them for a spin. I took them for my second jaunt about 45 minutes ago. I’m following one of those couch-to-5K training plans where I do walk-run intervals, and gradually increase the number of miles until I can run 3.1 miles. I can walk that far.  The plan says, barring injury, I should be able to attain a 3.1 mile run in 8 weeks.  I think I can do this. I have my fancy shoes now and I’m ready

Sometimes, even even a Fat Old Frappuccino Maker Guy can do something right!

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