Confession

I'm on day four of the week o' rest. Last night, I joined my husband for happy hour. We had a great time - we ate an obscene amount of cheese + grease, drank beer and watched the Royals whoop the Giants. Driven by guilt, I declared that I would run after work; this would cancel our second World Series happy hour date. Before leaving for work, I ensured that I had all my running gear packed.

I just got done having a heart-to-heart discussion with my boss (and friend) and realized that I should continue to rest (as planned). This leads me to my confession....

I have some disordered eating tendencies. I love to eat....but sometimes hate myself when I do. I'll never decline a cupcake (unless under extreme duress) and I am proud that I have a healthy amount of curves (thank you hooligans). However, I often exercise as punishment for indulging. I used to be 50 pounds heavier. I wore "mom jeans" to hide my love handles. Someone once solicited fashion advice from me stating, "You're a bigger girl and dress well." A doctor once told me that I should stay away from ice cream and start counting calories.

The closest thing that I have to a "before and after". 

People look at me now and think that I am ridiculous (and superficial) for having food / weight issues. Losing weight was a long journey. I'm still on the journey to become healthier, I could always improve upon that. I've never subscribed to radical diets or exercise regiments. I went my own pace and made gradual changes. I just cannot shake this irrational fear that indulging will lead to years of progress being reversed. It's not something that I panic about on a conscious level but...you know, the fear is lurking there when I analyze my naked body in the mirror.

This past couple weeks I've been eating A LOT and I've been allowing myself more treats than usual. My boss brought in a pan of these caramel cookie bars and I could not stop shoving them in my face. Yes...I did just run 3 marathons + 1 half marathon in just over a month but still....I feel like I should be running. I would feel better about that giant breakfast burrito that I inhaled for lunch if I could rush out and bang out ten miles.

But what would those ten miles do? 

Yes, those ten miles might negate the burrito on a caloric level.

Yes, those ten miles might make me feel better (even on an unhealthy level).

But what would rest do? 

I could join my husband for happy hour. I've missed so many during the last few months of training. I'll miss countless more now that my training is going to get more aggressive.

Give my muscles a bit more rest - I know they need it.

I have a high mileage goal for November (250). Even if I do gain weight, I know that will become fuel for some of these intense training weeks. And I know that weight will fall off. Realistically, I know that the scale is climbing due to water retention more than anything (carbs are the love of my life).


I never want to be that person that cannot let exercise take a backseat to having fun EVER. I don't want to be that person who turns down the cupcake....I mean cupcakes are freaking delicious. And I've worked hard to have this break. So yes....I'm going to happy hour. I'm going to drink a couple beers and probably indulge in delightful goodies. And maybe tomorrow, I will try some easy miles....but because I want to and not because I feel that I have to.