Nothing stops the joggernaut

When the sun cracks through the standard Central Ohio gloom for weeks at a time, I never remain inactive for long.

But recent events - too many close calls between bicycle and car, the immovable beer gut - have convinved me better uses of my time exist than touring Belgium five nights a week.

A few cans of light beer don't hold a swaying candle to the strongest Trappist brews, able to drench the sharpest mind in a single bottle.

So I'm officially an event drinker - and no, having nothing else to do fails to qualify as an event.

In its absence, I've decided to take a strong effort at shrinking that belly. I started yesterday, jogging around the neighborhood for about 20 minutes, soaking every inch of me in sweat, awakening long dormant muscle groups, and wrenching my heart and lungs (29 year olds don't have heart attacks, do they?).

I doubt a marathon lies in my future - running regularly won't change the fact that I've always been abominably slow - but set those miles in the routine, and a 5K or similar race might fit this stocky build.

First, though, let's see how I huff, puff and plod my way through the neighborhood tomorrow morning.

Blogger's note: To the best of my knowledge, the term "joggernaut" was first coined by WJM Sr. in the late 1970s.