Is it the mid-life crisis?

Ever since the days of  forced phys. ed. classes back in high school, I’ve slowly gained weight.  Lots of beer in college put on a few pounds, as did a long career as a desk jockey.  I’m not sure what finally was the kick in the ass, but I decided to finally get off mine and do something about it.  Nothing too drastic.  No fad diets.  Just cutting down on the junk, eating smaller portions, etc.  But what really got the pounds to drop was actual physical exertion.  Go figure. 

Instead of making the most of my Septa trailpass (taking the bus or subway the last few blocks to work), I decided to walk from Market East Station.  A few weeks later, I started walking from Suburban Station.  Now 30th Street.  It’s a nice 25-block, two-mile walk in the morning.  It’s a habit now. 

Then I started jogging in the morning when I have time.  A mile or two in the neighborhood, around the blocks, up and down the hills.  And by jog I mean run.  8 minute miles.  I don’t know how to relax. 

Needless to say, I’m down about 20-25 pounds.  And my pants are loose.  My belts on the last hole don’t do much to keep them up. Worse yet, my cargo shorts are loose.  Really loose.  I was pushing my daughter on the swings the other day, and my shorts were so low, my boxers were hanging out a couple of inches.  I’m not trying to dress like a teenager.  Really, I’m not. 

Back in March, I wore a different Yankee cap every day without repeating, and chronicled it on facebook.  Anybody who knows me knows I wear one all the time.  People may think I’m balding, since I wear one all the time, but I’m not.  As one could assume, I have “good” ones and “bad” ones.  Some have been relegated to yard work, and now, my morning runs. 

My go-to is a faded and paint-splattered Twins Enterprises fitted slouch cap, size medium.  It’s probably more than 10 years old, and has countless road-trip miles.  The great thing about it is that I can sweat in it like an animal, and then throw it in the wash.  It comes out clean and smelling great, ready for more abuse.  But now that it’s nice and broken in, it’s starting to show it’s age…the fabric on the edge of the brim is starting to go.  Oh, the horror.  And it’s in my line of vision, and driving me nuts.

You can tell the generational difference that I’m 35 and still bend my rims, and the young kids keep them flat.  But what drives me insane are the hats that you can buy stained, faded, and frayed – RIGHT OFF THE FUCKING SHELF!!!  This hat took YEARS of hard work to look this way.  Those whippersnappers don’t appreciate an honest day’s work…