At precisely 11:30pm, I round the final corner heading back home. With each passing step a bit more water seeps into my tennis shoes. Rain drips from the brim of my hat, running down onto my face. The cold rainwater running down my back makes me wonder if an iPod carries enough juice to electrocute me.
May 1st we began our second yearly work diet contest. Instead of putting in a hundred bucks all at once like we did for last year’s three-month contest, this time we’re doing $20 monthly buy-ins. That should keep any participants from going broke over an otherwise positive contest.
Like last year, I have mixed feelings about these contests. The humanitarian in me hopes that everybody does well for their own health, as these are my friends. The competitor in me hopes they all go home and eat a dozen chocolate doughnuts.
I don’t have any master plan this time around. I just plan on walking a bit more and eating a bit less. As the winner of last year’s contest, I’m the guy everybody’s gunning for this time around. The humanitarian in me sees this as a good thing — I hope everybody does really well for their own sake. The competitor in me is too busy to wish everybody good luck — he’ll be out walking, rain or shine.