I thought it was just going to be another lazy Saturday, Modern Philosophers, but that all changed when I returned from my haircut and found several of my friends gathered in the living room of The House on the Hill.
“It’s an intervention, buddy,” Gary Lincoln, the leader of Maine’s largest Werewolf pack, informed me and then pointed to the banner which read: “INTERVENTION”.
“We wanted to call it Internvention,” called out one of my interns (I don’t know which one because I still haven’t learned their names), who then slipped back into the throng because he was probably worried about jeopardizing his grade.
I was not only completely caught off guard by their presence, but I also had honestly no idea why I needed an intervention. I had just come from the barber, so was this about my haircuts? Did they want me to stop going to Fat Dave?
Seamus, Maine’s only Leprechaun, stepped to the front of the group to breaks the news. “We’re callin’ an intervention ’cause we’re worried yer becomin’ a fat, lazy sod, me friend. When’s the last time ya went for a run?”
I found his words ironic since he punctuated them with a long gulp of a pre-noon beer. Of course, Seamus would just point out that he still hadn’t been to bed, which made it just another post-midnight pint.
He was right, though. It had probably been a month since I’d last gone for a run. I was putting on weight, not feeling at all good about myself, and I’d been under the weather a couple of times, which didn’t happen when I was exercising regularly.
My three closest Witch friends, Waltzing Matilda, Volcanica Ivy, and Ti-Diana now stepped forward. “No more Witchin’ Wings until you lose ten pounds,” Waltzing Matilda advised, her tough love cutting me off from the Buffalo wings at Three Toads & A Wicked Lady. They were the best wings in Maine, and would certainly be missed.
“It’s not like good health just happens by Magic,” Ti-Diana pointed out with a glum look on her pretty face. “If it did, I’d whip you up a potion right now.”
I sighed heavily. Not because it felt right for the moment, but because I was out of breath from standing up for so long. That was how bad things had gotten. “Do you agree with all this?” I asked the one Otherworldly Being in the room that I thought might be on my side.
“I’d happily give you perfect health and a slim, muscular build for the rest of your life in return for your soul,” The Devil told me with a shrug, “but I was informed that this was not an option unless I wanted to be banned from Maine for eternity.”
Ana, my new Vampire friend, presented me with my Running Toga and sneakers. “You’re my cool new friend, and I’d like you to be around for a long time,” she said as she pushed her oversize glasses back up on her nose.
I was in jeopardy of crying, losing my friends, and hating myself every time I looked in the mirror. I really had no choice, but to take Running for 3 miles and just pray it wasn’t the Daily Double, because there was no way I could handle a 6 mile run right now.
I informed them that I appreciated their concern, and was going out for a run immediately.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Mayor McCheese announced. “If you had fought us on it, you were going to do a Zombie run.”
Everyone nodded in unison with very stern looks on their faces. By “Zombie run” they meant that they were going to dump me, unarmed, in a wooded area full of Zombies. The only way to survive would have been to run to safety.
I have very supportive friends, but they’re also the kind I never want to cross. I went for a run, setting a slow and steady pace. It hurt a little going out, but on the way back, once my legs and lungs had adapted to the activity, I was able to pick up the pace.
I made it back to The House on the Hill without needing to stop or call in emergency services. I guess it says something that I can still just rip off a 3 mile run even after a month of inactivity. Let’s just hope I can do it three or four times a week.
I’m out on the porch now, stretching my long, sore legs so that they are ready to hit the road again tomorrow. This time, I intend to get out there without requiring an intervention.
It’s nice to have friends that care, though. Even if they are willing to throw me to the Zombies…