Spring is in the air, which mean lactic acid is in my quads: it’s running season again. I mostly spend my time in this column talking about entertainment, but a lot of my life consists of doing stupid physical things like flogging my body over 26.2 miles of pavement in the hot (…and sweaty, and painful) pursuit of a “free” bottle of Muscle Milk and a medallion stamped with “Finisher.” I’m not sure why I do this. Running that far doesn’t yield any more fitness benefit than running half that distance. It hurts a lot. It uses up a lot of my disposable time. It may be a mental disorder.... Read More