RTGF is an official ambassador of the San Francisco Marathon.

This is an action-comedy blog, like Starsky and Hutch, but funny. Or so is the goal. It might suck. Sorry.

Hi. I’m Eric. I like to run and workout, but I don’t always eat right. I’m working on that. What can you read about on this blog? Well, I like to write about the newest fitness techniques, which I will try out for you. Also, I describe funny anecdotes that comprise my desire to not get fat. I conjure ways to trick myself into actually not getting fat.

I listen to Chopin when I work out. Sometimes Lady Gaga. Also Fitz and the Tantrums. Especially Girl Talk.

Besides suffering a horrific injury while squatting, my greatest workout fear is bulking my top half so much it looks like I’m walking around on pirate peg legs. Ever seen that guy in the gym? If you haven’t, he’s the one in sweats and a tanktop. Have you seen the guys in the gym in jeans? GTFO. How about in cargo pants or cargo shorts? This isn’t Patagonia, Bear Grylls. Plus, I can see your swamp butt. Women don’t wear jeans or anything considered abnormal to the gym. Why? Must be smarter or something. Though, maybe they’re dumb. If they work out in mom jeans with elastic waists instead of yoga pants men would pay less attention to them and they could work out self conscious free. Men suck. We can’t let someone have an honest workout. The gym turns into some sort of sex deli where meats and cheeses (I’m implying women) are on display. Women often don’t want to be bothered by a man when they’re working out. Men always want to be bothered by a woman when they’re working out. That’s why we’re working out in the first place: women, or other men in certain cases. Let me rephrase: Men work out with the end game of sex. That’s why men do everything. Why do we own cars? To take us to jobs that give us money so we can impress women who will have sex with us. If we could sleep under trees all day and weigh a metric ton and still have sex, we wouldn’t bother with all those annoying jobs. The U.S. and global economy would plummet like a Lohan career, but who cares; We’re having sex.

I am very competitive. I have been called too competitive. I think if someone says something is “not competitive” they are saying that because they don’t think they can beat me. They are cowards. If I see another runner on the road who looks faster than me, I will follow their path and try to catch them or until they prove they are the faster runner. I throw up after half my races, because while I am a decent runner, I aspire to be a great one. Thus, I will run faster than I am capable of to run down better runners. (I always sprint the finish. It’s my one rule)

I ran the San Francisco Marathon in 2011. It was the best, coolest, sweetest, raddest race I’ve ever run. The only one that is in its vicinity is Rim Rock, which is north of Lawrence, Kan. It’s a wooded, hilly farm owned and operated by former U.S. Olympic coach Bob Timmons.

It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia is my favorite TV show. Fight Club is my favorite book and movie. Rashida Jones is my celebrity crush. TheChive is my favorite comedy website. The greatest sentence ever written was by Ernest Hemingway when he described his late friend F. Scott Fitzgerald.

“His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred.”


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