Fitness vs. Fatness: Motivation and lasagna

I run for a lot of different reasons. Although I discussed at length why I like to run, I feel that I did not adequately cover the various things that get me out the door on any given day. Some days, it’s because I’m feeling fat. On others, it’s the recollection of how much my cardiologist appointment cost and my desire to never schedule another one. Sometimes it’s the false sense of superiority I get from running past someone eating a cheeseburger on a bench (it’ a false sense because if I hadn’t mustered the motivation to run, I would be sitting one bench over, eating a double cheeseburger). On occasion, it’s some vague notice that I should be running, but I can’t figure out why.

I personally need a wide swath of reasons to go for a run in order to trick, motivate, and generally manipulate myself into running on a regular basis. I find that my conscious may be fully willing to accept some BS reason one day, but completely immune to it the next. Today it was just really nice out and I got sad that I have a limited number of days to run my favorite route.

When I got back from work, I ate half of one of the scones that Jenny brought me from New York and pounded a few cups of water. After digesting for 45 minutes, I ran the monument loop and came back to hit the pool. Not having a pool on the roof anymore is going to suck. I rarely take advantage of it, but it’s the most refreshing way to cool off after a run.

Although probably way too balla for me.

The main downside of this running business is the time commitment. It’s already almost 9 and I just showered and settled down. I’m polishing off a piece of the lasagna I made yesterday with the leftover (from Thanksgiving) turkey as we speak. I think I’ll make some headway on Archer Season 2 now. Have a nice night everyone!

Fitness vs. Fatness: Cookies for breakfast and failed hoop dreamz

During the week, I wake up at either 5:30 or 6:40 AM to go to work. It was for this reason that I found myself completely incapable of going back to sleep after I took Jenny to Union Station this morning at 5:45.

Mornings like this are always confusing for me. I absolutely relish the first couple hours of dawn. Sunsets are cool and all, but everyone sees those. I really enjoy those cool hours of solace before anybody gets up. At the same time, I am as subject to exhaustion headaches as anybody, so I wasn’t feeling 100% either.

Not feeling much motivation to sit or stand, despite being unable to resume sleeping, I decided to slump into bed and watch TV, like the Saturday mornings of my youth. Jenny and I made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies with nutella filling last night, so I happily ate one or two (or four) of those for breakfast while watching the entirety of Archer season 1. If you haven’t watched it, you really need to. It’s amazing, so long as your sense of humor extends beyond what’s found in Family Guy.

Several hours later, I worked up the motivation to finally organize all of the media files on my computer. Despite having folders specifically labeled for programs, music, games, and videos (SD/HD, TV/Movie), things had become terribly jumbled. I can tolerate certain levels of disorder, but this is one of the things that really sets off my OCD. It persisted for so long solely because I would walk away from my computer whenever it crossed my mind.

By the time things were tidy again, a shockingly large chunk of my day had already passed. I played some Dead Rising 2 and Battlefield, watched some of a Bruce documentary, and ate leftover swedish meatballs with half of a watermelon. Feeling sufficiently lardy at this point, I pulled one of my classic workout tricks: getting ready and walking out the door without thinking things through. I’ve found that the mind is incredibly good at convincing the body that it doesn’t need to work out. It will insist that your leg hurts or that it’s raining outside. The easiest way to circumvent the issue is to just zone out until you’re halfway down the block saying “Dammit, not again.”

Unfortunately, this approach does little to make up for eating a heavy meal before a run.

While running along the mall, an incredibly thing nearly happened. It’s what I like to call “hoop dreamz”. It’s one of those moments that you carelessly daydream about where you do something awesome with incredible suaveness; everyone’s got at least one. For some people, it’s having to fill in for an absent musician at a show and TOTALLY nailing it. For others, it’s telling a really freaking funny joke in a large crowd of people. I’m sure you’ve all got a whole bunch.

Anyway, I was running along, probably looking awesome, when a frisbee came sailing directly into my path. I was positive that my time had come to be nonchalantly amazing; I love frisbee. I was poised to make an awesome catch and whip it back without breaking my stride. Things couldn’t have been more perfect. Then it bounced off of my hand and spun away in the dirt. My anger must have shown, because one of the people playing apologized for their errant throw. The next 2 miles were a blur of irritated thoughts and enhanced paces. It wasn’t until I had rounded the Lincoln memorial and come back up to the mall that I realized that my legs were dead and I was panting.

At least I have the consolation of knowing that the opportunity didn’t go completely wrong. Despite my drop, it wasn’t like I had fallen flat on my face. My term for those scenarios is “poop dreams”. You know, like when John Kerry tries to look athletic.

Yep, classic poop dream.

These moments are the true failures. The times when you think you’re going to look awesome but end up looking like a total idiot, usually in front of large groups of people. Thank god I avoided that fate.

To ensure that I didn’t just jinx myself, I think I’m going to spend the rest of the night in my apartment. There is a lasagna that needs to get made, a Springsteen documentary that needs finishing, and a whole boatload of terrorists who aren’t going to kill themselves on my computer. Enjoy the rest of your Saturday everyone! Happy hoop dreaming.