This column first ran in October 2011. As Joe Rusin prepares to run his first marathon this weekend, we meditate on his former form in this Fierce Encore! A few weeks ago, some generous soul saw fit to bring in a box of extremely delicious buttermilk donuts to be shared by everyone who works in my office. Extremely delicious translates to heart clogging, gut expanding, sleep-inducing goodness. Some office mates sensibly took only small portions, cutting the donuts into pieces for a nibble. Being capable of great gluttony, I of course took the whole thing. As I was taking it, I made a comment to someone about how you could tell by looking at me that I enjoy my sweets. In response I got an incredulous and slightly annoyed expression as my coworker commented, “What are you talking about—you look svelte.” Here’s the thing. She wasn’t just being kind. I actually am fairly trim right now. I’m not skinny by any sense of the word, and I still have a roundish quality, but even according to the body mass index I am at worst just over the edge of “overweight” and actually usually fall into the category of “normal” (and keep in mind, those BMI calculators are cruel—if you’re trying to lose weight and you want a disappointing shot in the gut, check one out to see how far you’ve got to go. It always seems a little unreasonable.). This is not a column to brag about weight loss, though (even if I did find a way to work it in). What I find interesting is that when I made what I thought was a self-deprecating comment about my size, I completely believed it. I wasn’t looking for a compliment—I had forgotten that when...

When you hit your mid-30s and friends start to have babies, you have a choice: find new friends or find ways to cope with the fact that your friends’ lives will be incalculably altered by the new life that they thrust into the world. Find ways to remain relevant in their world, a world consumed with burp cloths, sleep cycles, baby monitors and diapers. Find ways to, you know, be cool with infants and friends who have become zombie-like. With this in mind, I proudly present: The Single Nerd’s [brief] Guide to Friends with Babies! 1. All babies are cute Let’s face it, some babies aren’t cute.  Actually, many new babies aren’t cute.  They’re slimy, wrinkly, bug eyed little creatures.  They mewl and piss and puke on everything.  Sure, they have soft skin, but you leave them in the sun for ten minutes. . .see how long that lasts. The key here is that no matter how potentially uncute your friend’s child is, don’t cop to it.  All babies are cute.  If you’re constitutionally unable to lie and find yourself tempted to let your friends know exactly how uncute their baby is, try one of these handy phrases: “Wow, look at that baby!” “S/he looks so little!” “Who has little hands?  You do!  Baby does!” Of course, if the baby is cute, feel free to tell your friends. 2. Your friends will look like crap. Don’t tell them that. They know. The first time you see your friends after they have a baby, they’ll probably look strung out.  They’ll stumble around and talk in fits and starts.  They know they’re a mess.  Don’t do what I did recently and blurt out “Holy crap, you look like shit.”  That won’t go over well.  It’s probably best not to acknowledge any...