I’m wearing a pair of size 36 pants. It’s a Christmas miracle! Sure, they run a little bit big, but that doesn’t bother me. Aspirational clothing is my jam. These are shorts, actually, not pants. Still though, the clothing which the fat butt had rejected have become the chief piece of lounge wear. Or something like that.
In any event, these pants aren’t going to magically keep fitting if I keep eating these cinnamon rolls. Did you know that there is like a pound of butter in a cinnamon roll? Louis C.K. is not messing around with that Cinnabon thing. Except if you make them yourself then it’s self-loving, not self-loathing. The cream cheese in the icing was organic and stuff. So really we are helping the planet by eating a doughy fat ball, covered in goop.
Maybe not. Maybe what I needed to to was go for a run. With +/- five hours of sleep and nothing but coffee and cinnamon buns (plural) for fuel, attempting about seven miles could turn out amazingly well or particularly badly. Things were hopeful from the start. Some may scoff at venturing outside in sub-freezing weather, but in my book that beats a quixotic journey in the heat of the summer. Much less likely to induce the gutular distress.
So I made it up, and down, and up, and down again. Traffic is indeed lighter on Christmas Day, but it is not non-existent. Fortunately, the sight of some weirdo running down the side of the road on the Feast of the Nativity is enough to give most people a reason to steer a wide berth around said weirdo. On a whim, I tried a climb that I have not attempted in a couple of years. It was a reminder that the most important part of running a hill is to not stop. The end comes sooner that you expect.
And so it did, as I took a swing through the remnants of the old mill town of Swannanoa. There in front of the Methodist Church was a sign which has appeared every Wednesday for 8 years. “Welcome Table, Lunch Served 11:30 – 1:00. All are welcome.” And they mean it. People who are cold can come get warm. People who are hungry can come be filled. People who are lonely can come enjoy company. People who need to do something can have something to do. Just like every Wednesday, all year long.