I have two confessions to make: I am eating like a pig and inside my head I seem to have an endless Smith’s song going.
To the first issue. I started this blog stating that I needed to lose some weight. For several weeks, I did just that. Something like two weeks ago, I dropped down to 149 lbs from 153 and I was feeling pretty damned good about myself. Was eating sensibly, one dessert a week, no chips and most importantly, I was managing my portion sizes. I was in short, meeting my goals.
Then the move came. The packing, the stress, the days that went on forever, I bundled it all in to a huge ball of self-pity and used it to wreck any restraints I had on my diet. An old behavior: in the face of adversity, I allowed myself some weakness. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve denied myself very little. Chocolate chip cookies, fried foods, even a bag of tortilla chips, I ate it all. Then last night, I was sitting innocently in front of a Boise State game when my wife came in and offered me apple pie with vanilla ice cream. I didn’t even think about it. “Sure” I said, “Would love some.”
Now, there’s no need for me to dwell on this a whole lot. What I’ve done is wrong and I need to get back on track. December is around the corner and that means race day. What’s more, I don’t feel good when I’ve got the extra poundage and frankly, I don’t have a leg to stand on with my kids when I’m not practicing what I preach. Time to turn things around with the diet.
The other thing is related to the first. In my head, I’ve been sucking on the comforting teat of self-pity. Aside from the eating, it’s been mostly in my head but it’s with me, like a bad smell. It gets into everything I do, especially the running and the working out. When I’m in the middle of it, I kind of like it. I’ve always enjoyed the drama of pity. “Woe is me” always had an easily identifiable ring to it. But Jesus, what a bore once you step outside of that mindset and really take a look at yourself. Like the old time stockades, you’re just a public asinine spectacle.
My new home isn’t my old home. There are fewer trails, no sidewalks to run on, every road has ten major hills on it. It’s different more than anything and in my mind that’s caused me to mope. I have to drive ten minutes to get to a track. I’m going to have to drive twenty minutes to get to a park big enough for my long runs. I lost my bike shoes. The list is endless, the benefit of it all is meaningless. I’ve got to get out of this space.
ISo, today, in my confession, I hang my head in shame. Parts of me are pathetic, I admit it. I don’t feel good about it and want to change it. But there it is. Shame on me.