On Julia Childs and Marathon Runners...
I just got finished eating a parmesan encrusted chicken breast with linguini alfredo left over from the restaurant we went to last night after sucking down $6.50 beers at the Browns football game (they won - Go Browns!) and watching the final minutes of the women's marathon. Of course you watch someone who is 4'11'' tall and 90 pounds win a 26 mile race and then vomit and blow her nose on the track, it makes you feel a little inferior that you are not able to push past being human and do something profound instead of eating butter saturated sauce and fried food. But of couse we all have to have our obsessions, our values, the things that make us feel good and alive. It makes me feel like a sweaty peice of meat to even jog, and I therefore would never get the high that the athletes I have been seeing in Athens get from competition and physical exertion. I might if forced, but it would be a long, dangerous, hellish route to enlightenment. I would much rather follow the teachings of Julia Childs and her concentration on restraint, exploration, gin and butter.
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