I have been procrastinating a lot lately. Between the kids, the job, the house, the dog, the yard, my husband’s bad back and his long hours at his job, I have plenty of reason to push things aside. Unfortunately, then I feel guilty. I have been blogging in my head daily, but I just can’t seem to get it down on paper, so to speak. I think of funny little snippets in my daily observations that might make a funny post, but of course I think I am naturally hilarious. Or a complaint about people wearing their pajamas to the market that might turn into something worth reading. But then the day comes and goes an none of it gets written down.
Over the past month or so, my dad, has been in and out of the hospital. It wasn’t the kind of thing that was “emminent,” but it was serious enough that he stayed hospitalized for a couple weeks and is still under nursing care of sorts. During this period, it was discovered that he wasn’t taking care of his diabetes. He was eating maybe one solid meal a day and even then it wasn’t balanced. He hadn’t seen a vegetable in ages. To top it off, he wasn’t monitoring his blood sugar and taking his medication. He figured that adult-onset diabetes just wasn’t that big of a deal. Well… turns out that it is.
So while the man lies in his hospital bed, I deemed it appropriate to lecture him. My dad frustrates me to no end. Always has. He does things that don’t make sense to me. He also never tells me (or anyone, likely) the full story, so I am left trying to either piece it together or drag it out of him. I usually get frustrated quickly and give up trying to sort it all out. He is an adult afterall and certainly old enough (81 seems old enough, right?) to make his own decisions in life. But then I remembered that most eldery tend to lose their appetites and don’t eat right. He lives alone in a small town far from everyone. Somewhere during my monologue, I thought to myself “Man, you are such an asshole! The man is 81 and he isn’t doing any worse off than you are. Do you eat right and exercise?”
So duirng this epiphany, I decided that I was going to start running, in earnest, again. I used to run 5 miles a day on average. I liked it this way. Then I married a man who informed me that I was merely a “jogger” – which was apparently equivalent to shopping on the scale of serious sport. So he took it upon himself to train me, starting with a schedule where I took every other day off. This was the beginning of the end. Once I broke my stride, I never got it back. Throw in 15 years and 3 kids and I was toast. I have tried to start up again over the years, but I get about 3 weeks into it and then I get derailed by life again.
Admittedly, I am only 3 weeks into it again now, but I feel different this time. I am actually loving it again. I crave a run. I think about doing it daily and even think about a 2nd run sometimes. Now that is a foreign concept! So while I hate the quote that “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,” especially accompanied by an emaciated photo of a super model, I would like to think that if I can get back into my running groove, I also won’t have to think about what I am eating nearly as much. Because as I said in the title, nothing skinny tastes as good as it looks.