This post is not nearly as intellectual or poetic as the title may suggest.
By the second day after having met my buddy John at our church in grad school, I and everyone else were already hearing the wonders of this new movie, "Super Size Me." Today, some five and a half years later, I finally watched it. The movie is basically a documentary by and about Morgan Spurlock, a man who went on a monthlong diet of all McDonalds, all the time. And though the detrimental effect on his health was not all that surprising, it was still disturbing. I used to permit myself a visit to the fast food counter any time I was waiting in an airport during a meal time, as though it were some kind of a treat. Now, realizing how frequently that occurs, and then imagining those anti-fungal French fries coursing their way through my system, perhaps I should reconsider. (Oh, but those delicious hash browns! Follow the link if you want to read one of the best blog posts I've come across, from a random Google search to make sure I spelled "hash browns" right.)
One other tidbit I picked up from the movie: Apparently I grew up in the only state in this country that required physical education is grades K-12. Who knew? And all along I thought everyone in the U.S. was subject to mandatory fitness testing, heartrate monitors, and some awfully hypocritical PE teachers (of which one in particular comes to mind, whom we affectionately called Big Al). I don't mean to complain. In fact, I am grateful for the grade school days of crab-walking relays and kickball tournaments, middle school choreographed renditions of Tootsie Roll (the one scarring memory I couldn't completely block out), and high school games of floor hockey, ultimate frisbee, and the annual 5K run. Most of all, I am grateful for the overbearing sense of guilt I feel for not running as regularly (or compulsively) as I used to.
I dare say those were some fun days.
