In the last several months I have been attempting to stop trying to control my eating and to eat what is right and to leave what is too much. I’ve been asking myself what I’m getting from each bite before I put it into my mouth. I’ve documented every calorie, every protein, and every damn sugar. And what’s it gotten me? A big fat absolutely f-cking nothing. Yeah, it sucks. Yeah, tonight I’m having a martini. Or five. There’s nothing like fermented starches to improve the quality of my runs. Alcohol is fuel, right?
Running is slowly improving. Very Slowly. During my LSD of only eight miles today it occurred to me, rather amusingly, that I train at the exact same pace as I race. And on a scale of all things that suck – this is pretty much the suckiest. I did happen to suck the mileage up to 24.55 this week. I won’t bitch about that.
You wanna know the best part of my long slow run today? Coming home and having my family announce (many times) that I stink like pee. And laugh. Apparently I peed on myself. And didn’t even know it. So I had to wash the shoes that I really don’t even like and my orthodics. Twice. Yeah, I’m cool.
Admit it, you wish you were me.