I was truly looking forward to the summer running and biking season. With Frederick over and lots of miles to ride, I expected the pounds would just fall off. Looking at my Garmin uploads and seeing thousands of calories worked out of my system, I was SURE I'd be hitting my long term goal any day.
Well, my friends, that was then and this is now. Seems like all of those "free" calories took their toll. I haven't seen the 220's in almost 2 months. Yesterday, two days after the half and just 9 days removed from the Seagull (and the 8000 calories burned that day), the scale showed an eye popping 237. (Point Four!) The last time I weighed in at this heft? March 17, nearly 7 months ago!
Unlimited carbs for all of that exercise, right? Um, yeah, right. Ice cream before bed is cool, right? Hey, it was all low fat. I admit, it might not have been exactly the serving size on the container, but who eats those paltry servings, anyway. OY! Okay, I understand why. I did it to myself.
Now, before you start to comment with "It's okay, you'll get back on track" and "Hey, Jeff, you did it before, you can do it again" or "Dude, look where you came from, this is just a small blip, you'll be right back," wouldya just save it! Look, I'm just pissed at myself. I did it to myself and I missed an opportunity to drop those last 25 pounds, which are now the last 38 pounds.
Problem is, I started to enjoy food again. For two years, I got myself into a position where food was just subsistence. Now, I look forward to food again. I have my favorite places to eat and things to eat. For a long time, there was the boring old salad bar at the local Weis market for lunch. Now I crave Panera. Crave may not do my feelings for Panera justice -- when I die, I want to be baked into one of their multi grain baguettes and dipped into vegetable soup. I'm telling you, I'm in love. After Saturday's half, we hit my favorite Mexican spot -- chips, salsa, my clean plate, then I finished my kid's plate. There's the old Jeff in fine form.
What I need is a kick in the ass. Some serious tough love. Gotta get outta my friggin' food loving ways or I'll be playing Santa this Christmas without added padding!
No nice comments, please. Nothing peppy or I swear I'll delete it. I'm tellin' 'ya, I need the pain.