Blame it on Aristotle 1/22/10

Today I only ran the distance, two miles, that I decided would be the minimum for keeping my running streak alive. You might say that's pretty cheesy, running an insignificant distance just for the sake of keeping alive an ill-conceived resolution. Not cheesy, you fetaphobes. Traditional. Noble. I follow in the footsteps of the greatest streakers in History: The Greekers. Or as we know them in English: The Greeks.

You see, the word "streak" comes from the ancient Greek word "straekas," which can be very loosely translated as " to run naked in Sparta." In the fifth century B.C., or Before Cable, there were two rival city-states: Sparta and Athens. The Spartans were known for their militarism, huge chestoral muscles, and repressed homosexuality. The Athenians were known for their love of learning, sinewy calf muscles, and open homosexuality. (If their homosexuality were a U.S. state, it would be at least Montana.)

The Athenians loved to taunt the Spartans over this, and would stage regular "straeka," or nude running raids into the heart of their rival's city. They would stampede completely unarmed and togaless through the city center, not to kill, or loot treasure, but to force the Spartans to confront their own desires. To make them realize that their attraction for their fellow phalanxers was not unnatural, rather, in a city devoid of women, it was completely inevitable.

Unfortunately for the straekers, the Spartans, blinded by self-hatred and embarrassment at the spectacle of attractive, unarmed naked pacifists defiling their homeland, could not see things quite that way. They would mercilessly slaughter any Athenian who stopped to catch his breath.

As the centuries wore on, the straekers realized that if they were to survive, they would have to build a better aerobic base. This would require not just running naked on one day. No, they would have to run naked every day in Athens, if they did not want to perish naked in Sparta trying to promote their progressive ideals regarding male sexuality.

And so, they ran. Naked in the Agora. Unclothed in the Parthenon. Birthday-suited in the Acropolis, they ran, through heat, and sun, and under clear skies, nibbling fresh olives, and forming the principles of the rule of law and democracy. They did not miss a day, for they knew the consequence of failure: to have their lovely dark-haired skulls crushed by the massive pectoral muscles of King Leonidas and his repressed minions.

And so, I run. Every day. Not naked, for this time of year there is no sun, nor olive to nibble on beneath it. Neither are my motives as lofty as those of ancient streakers. I run merely to burn off the Ho-Hos and Kettle Chips which comprise my diet. But I have principles. I believe in the rule of law and democracy. I believe our children are the future. And I believe major-league baseball is a monopoly/scam that needs to be placed under this nation's anti-trust laws for the common good.

Twenty-two days and counting. Wouldn't Euclid be proud?

Thanks for humoring me.