Day 6: Scurry to a better time

Day 6, Week -4 / 10:30AM

3 miles on the treadmill

Completed in 21m 04s

Peak speed at 9.0 mph for 6 min.

Yesterday’s hill training left me with sore calves.  The cold air also exacerbated the remnant of my congestion, so it was pretty rough this morning, but I ultimately decided to push through because of breakfast — I helped myself to tater tots, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a bagel.  To additionally test my tolerance/endurance I successfully completed the 3 miles just over 21 minutes.

Speaking of eating, I’ve been munching and munching on trail mixes, dried fruits, trying trying TRYING to eat less foods of the deep fried variety, but it’s so dang difficult to unlearn years and years of eating based on what your parents could make available for you.  Oddly enough, preparation for veggies as meals in raw or steamed form is much more simple than throwing stuff in a big pot o’ oil.  Nowadays, I’m better about it, every once in a while I’ll eat up at In-N-Out, but I miss those days of Fried Chicken with Jufran and White Rice… man, we used to eat with our hands it was so good!  Currently, to trick and treat myself, I often eat at Fresh Choice.

I like going by myself, as bringing another person is often embarrassing for myself because of my eating technique (which I will refrain from going into).  Additionally, going by yourself means a maximized opporutnity to observe and people watch.

Yesterday’s evening at Fresh Choice brought out family after family.  A couple of bachelors like myself were also present, didn’t notice any women eating by themselves.  Most of the bachelors decided to not face the crowds and immerse themselves in their reading materials (I too, brought some homework to work on in between trips to the salad bar).

Another musing I often have is how overloaded the salad plates end up being.  It’s a trick to think that a plate overflowing with ’salad’ could be so ‘healthy.’  To each their own though, I should talk, if one to observe my template meal they’d scoff and pat me in the soon-to-be-full stummy.

Mid-meal I was interrupted by large middle-aged father of two, who inquired if I was an old co-worker named Dennis.  Apparently, it had been years, but I managed to carry very similar physical characteristics of Dennis.  I politely said no, but this didn’t seem to convince his son, who kept stealing glances my way.  I imagined what Dennis could possibly do as I peered over at the gentleman’s table, there was a large walkie-talkie sitting there, and his equally sizable son of a young-20s also sported one, but both were in plainclothes and their voices were pleasant enough to not conform to any kind of police or authoritative figure.  Could Dennis have been a colleague at a sewage plant?  Could Dennis have worked in the control tower at SFO?  I’ll never know, and I should have asked.

In fact, I will ask at this point.  For most of my life, I’ve been mistaken for someone else.  My current doppelganger is this fellow.  In college, I kept getting called Val.  I’m stopped enough in the street by people to pick up their conversations where their friend (whom I resemble), left off.  It was annoying for a bit, but I finally succumbed to not having a continguous identity that is R.J. Lozada (do we ever have a contiguous identity though?).  At this point, as a fun project, I think I’ll inquire further next time I’m asked if I’m someone else.  I should have asked what they thought of Dennis, what impressions he left, and why he thought they lost contact… Not that I would then absorb Dennis’ narrative, but it be nice to leave with some kind of connect with a stranger, and I’m trying to be about that more often…