I confess I have the day off from work as my wife and I prepare for a week’s vacation in Denver. I confess that if I were to remember to post next Friday’s confessional – which would mid-vacation, it would be a minor miracle. It would also be from my phone and therefore likely very short. Maybe something like my real confessions when I was a kid. “I swore a couple times. I missed church a couple weeks ago and still took Communion. This is my last sin.” Anyway, in the midst of a day full of last minute house cleaning and vacation shopping, I found myself with a free minute. What better thing to do, I thought, than log a fake confession?
My first confession is to violent thoughts toward people who extrapolate their personal political beliefs into areas of life where they don’t belong. The Facebook page for a race I’m running in October asked the perfectly reasonable question of who should have the responsibility of calling races when it’s too hot: medical professionals, race organizers, the runners themselves or a mix of the three. Most of the responses, 99% I’d venture, were perfectly reasonable. The other 1% were people tsk tsking those who weren’t leaving the choice to the runners and holding them up to personal responsibility. Because, you know, somebody who’s been training for 16 weeks and is faced with an important and potentially dangerous decision the morning of the event deserves to collapse or even die if they guess wrong as to whether they had hydrated properly or pulled back enough on their pace. As distance running gets more and more popular, any event is going to have a high percentage of first time runners or runners who simply don’t know how they should properly adjust for the heat. I’m sure these people appreciate or should appreciate input from better informed professionals.
I confess that while I preach that we should not hold the famous in too high esteem, I take too much pleasure in being retweeted by famous or even semi-famous people on Twitter. This week, though, any inflated ego was deflated when two jokes I made on that medium which I thought were sure-fire retweet magnets fell flat.
Finally, I confess that I nearly reached a point of despair in regards to my beloved Detroit Tigers this week. I was pulled back from the brink, however, and will likely continue to spend 10-15 hours a week watching the games of a likely fatally flawed team.
As for you, readers, do you have anything in your timeline – virtual or real – that you’d prefer to get off your chest? I bet there’s an app on your phone that will assign an appropriate penance for your sins.