It's that special time of year again. The time when cookies and fudge slowly over power me and I forget what a vegetable looks like. Dreams of Egg Nog fills my days and nights. Sugar climbs it's way to the top of my food pyramid like King Kong overpowering the Empire State Building. I spend December deliriously high on baked goods and cookies. Then Cookie-less January slaps me in the face. I wake up from my stupor only to find ancient crumbs dribbled down the front of my sweat shirt and a stomach that feels soft, doughy and a few inches bigger than I remembered it.
When did this happen? I ask myself. The cookie monster within laughs maniacally.
I poke my finger into the newly grown belly fat and a look of stern resolve comes over my face. I furrow my brow, raise my fist to the heavens and shake it, angrily determined that THIS YEAR I will not break up with Running in December.
Running and I have an on/off relationship. It's love/hate just like the commercials on TV. Running chastises me when I don't do it. It calls my name early in the morning and makes me get out of bed even when I don't want to. It takes up my spare time. It's all I think about. For these reasons I hate it.
The flip side is that running gives me a high. I feel good when I get back to the house. Fat melts off of me. (Unfortunately so do my boobs.) The Muffin Top dissolves. My pulse is stronger and lower. I can eat like a horse & not gain weight. My cottage cheese legs are still cheesy but thinner. My saddle bags go away. I have more energy. No other exercise (and believe me, I've tried them all) can do for me what running does. For this I love Running.
But when Thanksgiving comes to call and the days are short & dark & cold, my inner cookie monster battles it out with Running. I'm sorry to say that in years past Running has lost everytime. The stomach pudge is already gleefully creeping around and it's only the first week of December.
However, this year I remembered my promise to Running. In honor of Running I will be forking out for a ProCare membership for December and January. I firmly and solidly vow that I will wear out their treadmills. They will not want me to come back next year and will ban me from using their cardio machines. And when the longer days of February and March come along I will burst out the front door, fresh & ready to go. And my old friend Running will be waiting for me on the road, ready to greet me with open arms.