Nay, we are but men. Rock!

This summer I reached a pinnacle of physical fitness that I had not reached since college where I wrestled and played football.  This summer I ran a half marathon and got down below 300lbs for the first time in nine years.  I felt pretty good about myself to the extent that I pretty much stopped doing anything physical after I finished my race.  I was able to fool myself into thinking that I was still in pretty good shape until I stepped on the scale last night just for the heck of it.  After the 0.0 flashed for an unusually long time the screen came up 0 LsP2.  Now I don’t speak computer but I’m pretty sure that what 0 LsP2 translates into is, “What the #*%$ do you think you are doing!?  Get the $*#&@ off of me fat @#%.”

So here we go again.  I know the chips are stacked against me with it being the holiday season but I need to do something.  I ran this morning and when I got back I weighed myself and am brining 332lbs with me.  I want the scale to say 299lbs.  Let’s do this.

I started running again today and I have a medical query for all of you who may be reading this.  I have two main issues that arose when I ran this morning.  The first issue is one that is very perplexing to me.  The issue is that I do not enjoy running.  I know tons of people who love running and use it as a way to reduce stress.  For me it is quite the opposite.  Running increases my stress level and I think it sucks.  I wish someone could give me the actual medical explanation for why this is.

The second issue is a little more pressing seeing as how I have no idea how it got in there.  Apparently I have a pygmy marmoset in my large intestine.  This is the only explanation I have for the gurgling that happened at about the halfway point in the run, or in other words as far as I could get from my bathroom.  It was this marmoset that forced me to do the, “I’m not gonna make it” waltz back to my house.  I hate marmosets.

If there is a doctor that is reading I would really love a home cure or a prescription to get rid of my furry little companion that lives in my colon.

There are certain rules of life that one should be able to count on right?  One such rule is that over time people should get smarter.  I know occasionally there are people who do things when they are young that they know will not turn out well because they don’t know better.  And even more occasionally there are those in the twilight of there life that also do things that they should have learned better than to attempt.  A person that I care about deeply has just decided to do something idiotic.  My 30-year-old brother has just decided that a good way to make some extra money would be to become a bouncer.  That’s right folks a bouncer.

Who in their right mind wakes up in the morning and says to themselves, “Hey, I think I would like to get stabbed between the 6th and 7th rib today or maybe hit in the jaw with a crowbar at the very least.”  I mean come on kid!  Being a bouncer, although manly, is a little too far toward the Neanderthal end of the spectrum.  I know that bouncers exist much in the same way that a $1000 bill exists, they are out there but I have never seen them.  When I think of a bouncer I think of the guys from Roadhouse, minus Patrick Swayze, or someone who would follow Snoop Dog around not my brother.  I hope this is some last hoorah in order for him to prove something to himself and that he will before he gets into a serious scuffle.  My brother is a big guy and can take care of himself but it only takes one knife, gun, board, car, baseball bat, crowbar, set of iron knuckles, double team, roll of quarters, slap-jack, cattle prod, pool stick, sword, … well you get the idea.  I hope my brother makes it to old age.

I know because I am an administrator in the residence life department of a university that I am supposed to like the night life.  I am supposed to be one that waits for the sun to go down before I really start my job.  I am supposed to be in student housing until all hours of the night playing Halo, debating theology, eating crap that came from a styrofoam package, and the like.  These are the things I did for the first few years.  Now I think they are ridiculous.  I spend much of my time trying to talk college students into going to bed before 2:00am regardless of how little sleep they think their bodies need.  Have I gotten too old for this job?  Am I still relevant in the lives of college students?  I love what I do.  I love being able to help college students sort through some of life’s big questions like, “What is my calling?” and, “Do I really believe all of the things that I thought I believed growing up and if not what is there to believe in?”  These are a few conversations I have had lately and have often not to mention the political conversations lately.  I love these conversations, and I think I am good at having them.  I don’t think I am perfect by any stretch but I believe God has gifted me in being able to help others sort through some of these things.

But back to my question.  Am I still relevant to today’s college student?  I don’t listen to the same music.  I rarely have seen the same movies.  I am horrendously out of style.  So I ask you are these things I need to be in order to work with young adults?  Am I being, or more accurately can I be, everything to everyone as Paul tells us?  I need to honestly answer these questions so I can know if it is time to hang up my ping pong paddle and don the button down shirt, flat front khakis, and wing-tipped uniform of mid-level college administration.   My wife and I are committed to the community we live in but I do not know if I still have the energy to do that voodoo that I do so well (sometimes).

I thought since we are a man blog I would throw out this little ditty in an attempt to establish ourselves as, quite possibly, the most manly blog on the internet.