I've been running for almost two years now (okay, I'm three months shy of the mark) and I'm going to tell you something I don't talk about very often: it's not really getting any easier.
For some reason, I thought I would have graduated to High Gazelle status by now. I thought that I would be passing more people on my jaunts around the lake, not struggling to keep up with the power walkers. Surprisingly, I'm still operating in the Aging Clydesdale level. Heavy footfalls abound.
I've been thinking about this, and some of you have had a lot of good ideas about my present run malaise, namely that it's not new and shiny anymore. Now, it's become part of everyday life. It's become just something I do, like brushing my teeth, or perusing the Facebook, or milking my cows. (Okay, so maybe I don't milk cows…)
I've been eating healthier for almost two years now (okay, I'm three months shy of the mark) and I'm going to tell you something I actually DO talk about quite often: it's not really getting any easier.
Well, I shouldn't say that it's not getting any easier, but rather it's not necessarily as automatic as I would like to think it should be by now.
Sure, I do great at breakfast and morning snack (what, am I five?) and lunch. Hell, I even make solid choices in the mid-afternoon snack zone. But after 3:30, all hell is breaking loose again.
Of course, all hell breaking loose looks different today than it did last year. This year, all hell translates to a bowl of granola, an extra serving of frozen wild blueberries with heavy cream, or God forbid, some pretzels. But it's still a good old fashioned carb and calorie fest and my muffin top is really settling in for a long winter's stay.
Woulds and shoulds are tricky territories to navigate.
Know what I'm sayin'?
