Concerning the Running vs. The Cookie Monster battle: I think they've filed for joint custody of me. I find myself living with Running throughout the week. My weekends I spend with Cookie.
Monday through Thursday (the days I work) ProCare consumes my days and nights. I wake up wondering if I should go early & hit the gym before work or just go after work. I go there regardless during my lunch break and shmooze amidst the Old Fogies & Scary Muscle Guy. Girl With Perfect Pony Tail and Matching Workout Ensamble ignores me as I crank up the treadmill and run pitifully for 20 minutes. Old Guys In Shorts With Long Skinny Legs keeps up beside me while I sweat it out on the elliptical. We read the closed captioning on the Fox News Channel and catch up on the Blogojavonovovich scandal. I work out until my mind goes numb. I get in the zone, I love the zone. I lift weights, no longer caring if Scary Muscle Guy is there or not. Male Chauvinist One prattles to Male Chauvinist Two about the rack on some waitress loudly so that I can hear. I ignore him and continue doing my 50 situps on the inclined bench. My work out is zen. If the roof caved in, I'd keep going.
But when Friday rolls around.... well, Friday is my day off. I don't have to drive over the mountain that day so I don't. I stay home. I play on the computer. I talk to Gladys. I eat cookies. Lots of cookies. So many cookies that I have reached a saturation point. If one more person tries to feed me a cookie I'm going to throw up on their shoes. I've eaten so many cookies that I am sick of food altogether. The mere thought makes my nose wrinkle. Saturday I say to myself that I will do some kickboxing in the living room with Gilad. Then Sunday comes and laughs at me because I've not done a thing. This is my day of remorse. I spend most of it stuck to the couch staring at my eyelids. I feel like a slug. (I sort of like it.)
Then Monday rolls around and it's back to ProCare again. A vicious cycle that doesn't quit. If I can just hold out a few more weeks....