I search of some true meaning in my life, I did what I usually do when I find that a void needs to be filled with some inspiration; I turned on my television. I flipped around for hoursfinding only “Queer” guys peeling back hair of fat “Straight Guys”, and Kelly Rippa bouncing off the walls. None of this was too inspirational. Then I came across yet another non-music video related program on MTV about Diddy running the New York City Marathon. It showed him training wearing designer outfits and black Cadillac Escalades in pursuit. They also showed Diddy raising money for New York City schools while running the city. So I said to my self, “Self, if Diddy can run that city, then I too will run Burlington. Though it may not be pretty. I will run it hard, and I will run it fast. I will raise lots of money, chicks will like me at last.” In search of an outfit, I sifted through my drawers and found only a faded black Neil Diamond shirt my mom got me from his last concert. I definitely didn’t have any black pants of any kind so I quietly consulted my roommate’s drawers and found some black nylons she wears to work. Now I just needed to raise some money for some motivation to run the city. Diddy raised money for the school systems so I would find an equally admirable cause. I put on all black outfit and jogged door to door in search of potential donors. Overall, The Brett Weir Lap Dance Fund didn’t go over too well. One woman even charged me money for wasting her time. I was officially down $2.25 and feeling a little discouraged so I consulted a local marathon legend, Jim Miller. Jim ran the 26.2 miles of the Boston Marathon with a time of 2:42:52, and was the 76th male to finish the race. “Running a marathon with a week of training would be suicidal,” said Jim when I asked him about the rigorous training necessary for running a marathon. “It would be very painful and not a fun day at all.” With those strong words of advice I felt like I was ready to run the city. I had trained for eight days, but five of those days it was raining. But I had run a total 7.2 miles and felt ready. It was my time for the spotlight when I would run around the city of Burlington until my total had reached the length of a standard marathon. I convinced my roommate to follow me in her ’94 seafoam green Honda Civic. We left from my house a 3:30 pm after my classes and headed south into the center of Burlington. The cold air flowing into my lungs and through my nylons felt invigorating and very inspirational. I was running the city with vigor, grace, and no one, except my neighbors who told their children to avoid me, knew it. Soon it began to get dark and my muscles were aching. I called the run off after only 4.6 miles but I felt good about it. I hadn’t raised any money, come even close to finishing the run, or returned that movie I rented from Blockbuster under my friend’s name three weeks ago. When I got home I once again turned on the TV in search of some closure for my inspiration. Man, those “Queer” guys are so hilarious!