Sunday, September 6, 2009


I am lucky enough to be able to live within walking distance of a (man made) lake where I may run the 6 mile course around it, picnic beside it, canoe through it, or visit one of the many softball/baseball games going on at the ball fields next to it. As a college student, I've learned that every penny counts (for example, that caramel frap at the bux is worth 30 minutes of my hourly wage), so in place of a trendy gym I prefer to make use of the many outdoor "playgrounds" San Diego has to offer. Elle and I used to frequent the lake a few years ago, waking up before my classes to get in a little morning cardio. Unfortunately, directly adjacent to the lake is a golf course. I say "unfortunately" because golfers are some of the worse people I've ever met. I use the term "met" very loosely, and I'm sure they're not all like that, but every morning we were cat-called and harassed by these golfers. It got to the point where we'd rather endure the scorching heat in sweats and long tees just to avoid feeling horribly objectified for that mile we were forced to be within their range of vision. Normally, I don't prefer to run with an Ipod when I have a running buddy, but that too became a necessity. Eventually we stopped running the lake in the morning and took to the nearby mountain trails instead. (They're much more invigorating anyways.)

I walked into work today for my "early" morning shift, poured myself some coffee, and sat through "jump start," ready for what every may lay ahead. Or so I thought. The manager finished his spiel and we wiped down our tables just as guests began trickling in the door.

I walked over to greet my first table of the day.

"Hey guys! How are you this morning?"
"Hey sugar, bring us a couple of beers! We just spent this whole morning golfin!"



Anonymous said...

Life in San Diego must be grand.

Klaatu said...

Continue with your runs around the golf course. If you happen to see any golf balls, and they mysteriously end up in the lake or tossed into the woods, that's a shame. It would also be horrible if the golf carts used to drag fat assed golfers around got flat tires and they had to walk back to the clubhouse.