A five month hiatus of laziness, too much wine, humid days and a host of other excuses too ridiculous to write, sabotaged my jogging career. Months of adhering to the Couch to 5k turned into months of undoing the thirty minutes of sweat, tears and jogging accomplished.
Gone are the:
The bask-in-glory feeling when time goals were achieved
The graduation to Asics running shoes with Superfeet insoles
Rising early, putting in the time and feeling physical and mentally great all day
Obliterated are the:
The sweat-wicking clothing purchased at Target
The running bras which took two hours of trying on to find the perfect fit
The Garmin GPS model of two years ago
I turned off the motivation switch.
It happened just like that. No questions asked. The switch done turned off and broke.
Dormant, I existed, until a 180-degree change of perspective on why I jog turned the switch back on. Instead of jogging to lose weight and berating mí alma when the weight refuses to leave the comfort of my stomach and hips, I now jog to eat. The more I run, the more I eat. The less I run, the more I eat (still working on that thought pattern). Weight loss no longer controls the motivation switch; eating does. What better way to get through to a person who eats too much?
Of course jogging to eat requires food portion control supplemented with other forms of exercise. If I choose to eat a large piece of Junior’s cheesecake I will need to burn off the calories consumed. Caloric wise, a slice is approximately 543 which, translates to jogging for about one to two hours plus an elliptical workout with calisthenics and weight lifting.
Simple to calculate and not so simple to execute but if my goal is to jog to eat, calories must be sacrificed in order to make room for food intake of the most cautious kind. Caution in the foods that come through my mouth meaning salads, vegetables-things that grow in dirt-less consumption of carbs, especially wheat.
My jogging label as a self-proclaim, bona fide, “penguin” has not changed. I still waddle proudly during a jog but my pace has changed. Instead of a pace “akin to a penguin’s walk, having one too many krill on a good day”, my pace is now akin to a penguin’s run towards one too many krill on a good day, on a plate, a mile away.