This incline is so weak, a ping-pong ball placed at the top probably wouldn’t even budge. In fact, after a few minutes, it would probably roll in the other direction. But it’s there. I feel it in my calf muscles when I hit the base of it. I will beat this incline. I will not be done in by an incline.

Stupid incline.

The cool thing I never anticipated was the rush. Everybody knows that regular exercise is good for you, helps you lose weight, reduces blood pressure, averts nuclear holocausts, blah blah blah. But no one told me about the endorphins. I didn’t even know what they were. All I know is that after six days of jogging every morning, I scared the guy behind the sushi counter at Harris Teeter by executing a perfect vertical leap into his workspace to cheerfully explain to him how much I loved his shrimp rolls. I think I gave him a great big hug before cartwheeling into the deli section to sample the hummus. I’d never tried hummus, but I was in love with the entire world and decided I should try everything the entire world has to offer. Then I spewed hummus at the deli lady because it was absolutely disgusting. Someone should have told me those things were made with chickpeas. The world should have never offered chickpeas. But I was on such a high, I loudly forgave the world through the cashier’s microphone, which I had to wrestle away from him. That’s when they asked me to leave.

So I drove home singing along to my mix tape at the top of my lungs. Rufus Wainwright is deliciously fabulous, but he’s hard to sing along with. Still, I gave it every ounce of breath in my lungs while stray animals, pedestrians, and other cars scrambled like hell to get out of my way. If you’re the guy in the bicycle shorts and yellow helmet who had to leap off his bike and abandon it to flee into the woods when I came gunning up behind you, I am really sorry. And dude, put on some pants.

I got home, turned on my computer, went to Google, and came straight to the point. I typed "After jogging, why am I higher than Tommy Chong at a Phish concert?" That’s when Google told me about endorphins. A perfectly legal way to get high. Although I did learn that after a while, as with every drug, my brain will adjust, and it will take more and more to get me high. Which means I’ll need to run longer distances to get the same rush.

That’s all the motivation I need, and I don’t know why schools and doctors and health clubs don’t use that reasoning to solve our country’s obesity problem. Don’t bore kids by telling them about diabetes and heart disease. Put up posters in the school hallways showing a totally spazzed-out kid bouncing around with a manic grin on his face, while a group of kids nearby watch him enviously, tossing their Ecstasy and marijuana into the trash can and saying to each other "Dude, we need to get some running shoes."

It will work. Trust me. And if that doesn’t get your kid off drugs, just bring him to me after I’ve run six miles. I’ll hug him to death.