Small Victory

It has recently occurred to me that the few extra pounds I gained after returning in January will sadly not be willed away. It turns out that I'm actually going to have to work to be able to again fit into my jeans and dress pants. This frustrates me greatly as dieting and exercise are neither activities that I enjoy [in the slightest]. Whenever I claim to be buckling down and committing to a healthy regiment, I immediately grab for a handful [or box-full] of food...like Monday's Puffins fiasco that I'm ashamed to report. I think it's fair to say that small, delicious, bite-size carbs belong only on the grocery store shelves and NOT in my pantry.

In coordination with these findings, I have been trying to institute some pro-active habits. Take Monday, for example [pre-box o'Puffin consumption], I strapped my little Nano to my left arm, spun the touch dial until it highlighted the pulsing beats of Black Holes and Revolutions and dreadfully stared down the neighborhood sidewalk. I thought to myself calorie-burning thoughts and stretched the horribly out of shape muscles of my legs. I know that from the short row of pink-brick town homes to the stop-sign at the park it is a distance close to one-half mile. A half mile is my measly goal.

I started a slow jog, and nearing the end of the first block any attempt at controlled breathing was lost. I continued with frantic, shallow pants that I know do not promote stamina of any kind, but it was all my lungs could offer. Muse set a pace that I tried desperately to focus on rather than the distance that stretched ahead. I wanted the stop-sign to appear, but it seemed that someone up ahead was dragging out the concrete trail in a way that would never allow me to reach its end. Surprisingly, they must have given up the taunting prank because more quickly than expected its cherry-red face was an attainable distance ahead. I only sort of wanted to keel over and die once I reached its base, and I was so proud. Goal achieved!

To celebrate, I ate the box of Puffins...tempting little penguins.

::sigh::

Yesterday, when my legs were only moaning, I talked myself into a second attempt and ran a bit farther. It seemed to be only slightly less taxing on my lazy body and I found that looking downward helped to keep me thinking about the timing of music and not the expanse before me. Today my muscles scream. Future Californian says to take a break and resume running tomorrow, and stretch [his prior profession was Personal Trainer]. I'm actually just considering buying new jeans...

We'll see what kind of motivation befalls me tomorrow. Maybe I'll try the damn run again.