I Run Because I Eat; I Eat Because I Run

The next time I turn off the switch that keeps me from stuffing my face with fun things until it hurts, I should check the weather for the next day.

Yesterday I was doing fine until it came to my post-lunch pre-dinner snack. We got a fantastic box of meat (and a block of cheddar) from the New Braunfels Smokehouse courtesy of Wes & Debbie (thanks again guys!) and I ate a lot of what was still left for that “snack.” It’s got a shelf life, people. I hate wasting food.

A pound and a half of sausage, salami, cheese, another kind of sausage, and smoked ham later, Amy comes home and we wrap some presents. She says “I have no food here. Can we order?”

“Sure. Can we eat a little later than usual?” I said with sausage breath. Alrighty, looks like this is officially my day off from eating sensibly. “Sensibly” meaning “like a normal person, and not like someone who was a prisoner of war for five years.” Aforementioned switch now firmly set to the off position. We order Lime Jungle and with the slightest deference to my ongoing efforts to stay physically fit, I did not order the jalapeno poppers like I always do. Just the molé burrito with ground beef; easily a two-hander.

THEN, after dinner, we had all these leftover treats from the packages Amy made her coworkers; treats I’d been eyeing all day. Cookies, rice krispies balls, cake balls, more cookies. These are the reasons I eat dinner in the first place on a normal day, and this day all bets were off. So I ate, and ate some more. “I’m running tomorrow. I’ll be good the rest of the week. It’s fine.”

Cut to the third mile of my run today, the wind whipping snow into my face, ice forming on my eyebrows, eyelashes, and adolescent facial hair. Guilt driving me like a whip to the back. I’m not going to lie. I still enjoyed the run. It would just be nice to occasionally feel like I could take the day off if my contacts may freeze to my eyeballs.

To sum up, because I ate this:

and this:
and this:
I ran in this:

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