My Most Unhealthy Day of the Year

For the last 15 years or so, I have been going to the Boston Marathon every year.

Well, almost every year, I didn't go last year because I had gone to Vegas the weekend before and spent well above the predetermined entertainment budget at a friend's bachelor weekend, resulting in the finance minister of my home shutting me down for my annual Patriot's Day festivities.

For those of you who are not a resident of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, the Boston Marathon takes place every year on Patriot's Day; it is one of those fake holidays in Massachusetts like St. Patrick's, I mean Evacuation Day, where only government workers gets the day off.

After going for a few years, I saw a pattern developing (beside the obvious The Serpent and the Rainbow zombie looking dudes winning it every year). I noticed there are always a large number of runner posers attending this event.

Who are these posers? They are the people who don't exorcise, but insist on dressing up as a "runner" just for the day; the running outfits, sneakers, water bottles, the power bars. Sure, they maybe inspired to go "jogging" and clutter up my morning commute for a few days after the event, but they'll usually go back to sitting on the couch until January - where they'll spend two weeks or so tying up the machines at my gym while they "rest".


So in order to show these people what's up, I have dedicated Patriot's Day as my most unhealthy day of the year. What does most unhealthy day mean to me? It means I am going to eat everything that is not good for me that I normally avoid during the year. It means such delicious treats such as the street vendor Italian Sausage, the fried dough, and the new contender this year - the McGangbang.


.. and I am going to wash it all down with ungodly amounts of alcohol (well, I will concede that this part is not exactly a detour on how I normally live my life).

In the previous years, my tour of unhealthy living has resulted in a shouting match between me and a woman for urinating publicly at a T station (hey, you got to go you got to go), another shouting match between me and some Uta Pippig fans for laughing at her "running finish", and a wrestling match between me and someone handing out coupons in the crowd while dressed up as a cartoon character of some sort; surprisingly, my memory is a bit fuzzy in regards to that encounter.


This year, when I make my triumphant return to the 113th Boston Marathon, I will have my camera to document the festivities.