Shapeshifter

This year I will finally get some sports-related self-discipline and train properly for a half-marathon. At least that's what I've been telling myself.

Today, I broke out of my usual after-work routine and walked over to a running store to ask about their training program. Turns out I can run seven days a week with a group if I'm really ambitious. The best part? They feed you afterwards.

In years past, the half has been easy to fake — having spent a few years as a decent 5K runner, I allowed myself to run at 1.5 times my slowest one-mile time, since it's about three times the distance. So long as I crossed the finish line vertically I'd be happy, I told myself.

And that's been true. But the part of me that remembers what it was like to have stamina and an eight-pack knows I could go a little faster and be a lot fitter than I am now.

Frankly, I could use a little of that. This is the public declaration: This year, the snail gets sleek.