Danger, Will Robinson

People know that I have sort of struggled with weight issues most of my life. I've always been "pushing maximum density" (a line I've always related to from The Breakfast Club). I was on the Nutrisystem Diet for about three days in the Summer of 83. I gained the infamous "Freshman 15 50." The real reason I've been willing to sacrifice toenails by running 10 marathons now, as slowly as I have, is only so that I can burn those twice-weekly, 14-inch, thick-crust Dominoes pizzas that constituted the foundation of my college food pyramid in the late 80s.

So here I am, hanging in there, only 5 pounds over my driver's license weight, running regularly at the crack of dawn with my neighbor. Things are going well. So what's my beef? I cannot stop thinking about her William's Sonoma Fryer she got last weekend. I cannot stop fantasizing about the hush puppies and fried catfish. I wonder about doughnuts and falafel. How delicious they must be if they come to you fresh out of your very own Williams and Sonoma fryer. Help me, Jesus. I'm not sure I'm ultramarathon material.