Fit Recovery on “Sucking It Up” After Just Enough Turkey, Mashed Potatoes, Gravy and Green Bean Casserole.
That’s right folks. Green bean casserole. I like green bean casserole more than Oreos, I kid you not. Thanksgiving dinner is one of two or three meals a year that I get to enjoy the stuff because my wife and kids aren’t the biggest fans. Mix that with turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy and I truly know what Heaven is like. Add to that, some coconut cream pie, pumpkin pie, donuts (from Cops and Doughnuts in Clare, MI), Mama Cilli’s pizza and a ham dinner and Thanksgiving weekend is my idea of a “Cheat Weekend” if I were to subscribe to such a thing. We didn’t even get into breakfast, which consisted of French toast, bacon or sausage (or both) and milk… My trick is to eat small portions of everything except the big Four… Turkey, mashed taters, gravy and GBC.
For instance, when we went out for pizza at Mama Cilli’s on Saturday, I got a trip to the salad bar and only ate one slice more than half of a small 10″ pizza. I’d gone for a ride that day and skipped lunch. In the end, my calorie count for the day was right where it should have been (or close enough to it, I don’t actually count calories – I’m good enough about it to guesstimate). I could have polished off that pizza, it was spectacular, but after that last piece I was full and satisfied. To eat more would have only meant being uncomfortable and I simply don’t do that.
That said, I’ve taken too much time off the bike. We only rode twice over the weekend (Saturday and Sunday) and that was slow. I’m getting that little itch at the back of my melon that says, “Dude, it’s time to suck it up and work your butt.”
The problem is that doing so isn’t all that easy. Sure, there’s a small part of me that wants to puke in my mouth when I do my trainer session today – it’s raining, cold and I have to take my daughters to swimming practice tonight… I also have to head over to my bank and fill out some fraud paperwork because somebody has Wal-Mart’s online purchasing nailed (I would think twice before using their website to purchase anything – I never will again) and I’ve got some program stuff to attend to (it’s Fifth Step time for Bgddy) as well. On the other hand, the whole rest of my brain, the vast majority of it as a matter of fact, is saying, “Dude, just take it easy today. Work your way back slowly and you can puke in your mouth tomorrow.”
Another problem, even though the mirror may not show it, is that I feel chubby after last weekend. I hate feeling chubby, real or not.
So here I sit, writing this post. I’ve been up since 4 am, I’ve already gotten most of my work for the day done, and it’s time to suit up. Even guys like me, who on the outside, seem like they have it together, have days where we just don’t wanna – and mine are always preceded by an inactive or overindulgent period. Imagine that.
This, of course, is why I choose to lead a more disciplined life. I am big on the phrase “To thine own self be true”. I know who I am and I know that it’s a lot harder to get this train rolling than it is to keep it rolling.
Interestingly, I was talking with a friend of mine yesterday about a local guy who decided to lose weight. He was over 300 pounds the day of his decision and he, slowly, got into triathlon. Eventually he dropped enough weight that he could think about the longer distance 140.6. He’d lost more than 100 pounds as the story goes, and picked up a couple of big sponsors. They provided him with a very nice bike, travel expenses and the whole nine yards. He went on to complete his second Ironman but missed the cutoff time by ten minutes so he knew he wouldn’t be in the results. His sponsor then secured him a spot at Kona and paid for his coach… and he went off the rails. He gained almost half of that weight back and is now having to look at starting all over again. Not quite at square one, but his trip back isn’t going to be easy. Unlike true pros, his sponsor isn’t giving up on him. They’re trying to help, but it’s going to take a return to discipline to get him back.
Food tastes too good.
Now, I’m nobody special except in my own mind. I don’t have an awesome story (or perhaps I do, it’s up for a fair debate) and I don’t necessarily even want a sponsor. The only thing that drives me to suck it up is that I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, I want to be one of those old coots who makes everybody wonder where all of that energy comes from. I know if I want to be active at 90 (and I absolutely do), I’d better be full speed ahead today. So right this very moment, it’s time to get up and get moving.
Ride hard my friends.
My old running buddy, being a member of good standing in the Christian population and having read the Bible enough to actually know it, solely because he had quite a few years to fill with nothing to do but read and lift weights, likes to say, “God doesn’t need my help. I need His.” I agree.
So, this post is for those few out there who might think shooting up an abortion clinic oops, a Planned Parenthood (ironic, that) clinic is a good idea. To you, specifically, God doesn’t need your help.
Jesus didn’t kill the whore, He forgave her.
So, as much as abortion breaks my heart, do us all a favor and skip the mowing others down part and blow your own head off first. After all, isn’t it in the Bible that we should carve our eyes out if they’re causing us to sin? It is, I’ll save you the trouble looking it up.
Put simply, your head is causing you to sin. You’re listening to that dumbass in your melon committee rather than seeking to do God’s will.
Look at this another way. We can all agree that Islamic extremists suck, right? Dude, that’s you, only Christian. You suck, so knock it off already.
And to that dipshit sitting in prison… You’ll be meeting Jesus soon enough (ironic that, too). Just remember this one thing when you do: Duck.
To others who misunderstood the reports about Planned Parenthood “profiteering” by selling aborted body parts, they’re just covering costs and selling those parts to scientists who use them to better understand diseases like childhood cancer.
Is it disgusting? Without question. It is not profiteering though. Should the practice be ended? If I had my way, tomorrow, but in reality the end is not much different than Monsanto genetically modifying foods. The world said we need food and Monsanto said, “Cool, we’re on it”. Monsanto has done more good to feed the hungry than every government program devoted to that, on Earth, going back 100 years. In the end, those baby grinding factories are at least doing some good with their hideous practice.
Now, that said, we have signs all about Town that say, “Pray to end abortion”. They don’t say (in small print), “If God ain’t working fast enough for your liking, light them bastards up”. In other words, your ego is messing with you. There is no God in ego. That’s all you.
God forbid, that asshole probably took out the woman who went in for her first consultation, decided she couldn’t go through with it and was ten seconds from turning to Jesus for forgiveness and help.
Look at this another way. I was a lecherous young man. I am the cause of more than one broken marriage. I was one of those drunks you curse when you’re heading home shortly after midnight in the New Year… one of those you pray doesn’t run into you. There’s a line of people who could have justified taking me out and traded their freedom for the rest of their life in the process.
However, I recovered. I made my amends, the best I could, and God chose to save my butt, simply because I asked. I then completely reformed my life and went on to help hundreds if not thousands do the same in theirs.
If someone had chosen to play God and take me out, not only would they have robbed me of the ability to repent and reform, they’d have taken away God’s ability to work through me to help others recover from a disease that does more damage to families than all of the tornados and floods combined.
So, please, before you even buy the pistol, think.
God doesn’t need my help. I need His.
Because the best case scenario is you rot in jail, robbing yourself of the chance to do some real good and then you have Hell to look forward to (especially if you die thinking you did right). Worst case, you rot in jail because you killed the people who God had chosen to actually play a part in exposing abortion for what it is… and unraveling the whole mess.
The Lord works in mysterious ways and only the truly contemptible think they have that mystery figured out before they stand at Saint Peter’s Gate.