Running

A week and a half ago I decided I was going to start running. Three times a week at least. I would start with two miles and work my way up. And then, soon, I would become one of those people who casually says, "Oh yeah, I did a 6-mile run last night," or "I love running--it's like a drug," or "I can't imagine not starting my day with an hour-long sprint." We hate these people. They think they're so superior to all the average lazy people. But I wanted to join their smug health-nut ranks so I could look down on all of you for "watching TV all evening," or "doing homework." I would buy brand-new neon running shoes. I would look good in running shorts. I would become a runner.

I think we all know how this ends. 

Let's begin with day one. I managed to convince myself to put on my running clothes right when I got home from work. This is key. If I put on my running clothes before thinking through the act of running then I can shame myself into actually going because it feels like complete and utter failure to change out of exercise clothes without actually exercising. So, I tied my Asics, put my running mix on shuffle, and headed up the hill. As my feet pounded the concrete to Christina Aguilera's "Come on Over," I tried every mental trick I know to make myself believe I was having fun. I tried to think about long-term goals. I tried to tell myself that this could be fun if I did it more often. I tried to think about breathing deeply. And then I tried to think about absolutely nothing. The 2.2-mile route seemed completely endless. And all the reasons that the 457 other times that I've decided to "become a runner" haven't panned out came rushing back to me. I just barely finished the run.

Days two to present: Take a wild guess. 

But I've hardly had time for running anyway because I have been devoting some really quality time to watching Dawson's Creek (90's teen dramas!), and feeding an odd obsession with Disney animated musical numbers. Like this:

See, she used her brains to conquer physical tasks and then became a master of everything because of it (obviously)! She would've killed becoming a runner. 

Fruits and Vegetables: The Aftermath

It has been nine days, and I know you're all itching to know what happened after I finished my fourteen days of fruits and vegetables. Let's face it, there are only two potential outcomes: either I've been eating Reese's Peanut Butter Cup blizzards constantly in order to make up for the deprivation of deliciousness, or I've been miraculously transformed into a health monster. Obviously.

The first thing I ate on day fifteen was a roll. A soft, sweet Costco roll. You know the kind. No butter, no jam. Just the bread. It was dizzyingly delicious. And so much easier than spending 15 minutes making a smoothie or washing and cutting vegetables. Nothing has ever tasted so good. (Except for every cheeseburger ever. And all ice cream.) The evening of day fifteen, I had Panda Express with my sisters. Warm, greasy chow mein and orange chicken, followed by peanut butter/cake batter frozen yogurt from Golden Spoon. I know this is so thoroughly expected that it might sound cliche, but it all tasted so flavorful. And magical. Like I'd never eaten anything before. 

On days fifteen and sixteen everything was heavenly. Cheese. Salsa. Meat. Especially meat. And I got full incredibly fast. After about a third of my Panda Express, I was stuffed. And I stayed stuffed until the next day. 

But there was also guilt that came with eating things that hadn't been part of my fourteen days. Most of me knew it was unrealistic to continue eating just fruits and vegetables indefinitely, but I think part of me was hoping that I would acquire self-discipline of steel and would snub all non-fruits-and-vegetables food for the rest of eternity. Immediately after the fourteen days, it felt like if I wasn't forcing myself to be extreme that I was failing. 

But the dust has settled. And I have found some middle ground. I've eaten some ice cream. And some Twizzlers. And plenty of normal meals like sandwiches, chicken, and soup. But I've also eaten way more fruits and vegetables than I did before. The fourteen days forced me to figure out manageable ways to eat fruits and vegetables because, if I'm to be completely honest, I don't really like them that much. They taste weird. A lot of them have weird textures. And I've always had this weird belief that fruits and vegetables make me more hungry rather than fill me up. So, I do lots of blending. I recognize that they can satiate hunger. And I accept that I will never be able to eat bananas. 

I'm not sure exactly what I was trying to accomplish in the long-term with my fourteen days. The simple result is that fruits and vegetables are back on my radar. And it prompted me to add "health" to my blog labels. It may just be in my head, but I think I feel better for it.