Day 13: Hitting a wall
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Friday is not a good day for me. All the fire I started the week with has burned up by this point. My willpower is at an all-time low. My inner wino cries out to be released. And after 12 days in a row of hardcore exercise, my body shouted: No more.
At work I go up and down two flights of stairs AT LEAST on an hourly basis. OH. MY. GOD. My thighs were killing me. I was like an old lady, hobbling up and down the stairs, instead of RUNNING them, like I normally do.
Thank goodness I had decided earlier that morning NOT to do the ridiculous (and almost impossible) of trying to squeeze in a run during the 1.5 hours between my working lunch and the interviews I had scheduled for my research program that afternoon.
What? You think 1.5 hours is a long time? No sweat?
Not if you don't own a car. Not if your house is an hour bus ride from where said working lunch and research takes place. Not if for this to be feasible you would have to haul running clothes, shoes, teaching material etc around all day in a backpack, pay to use a shower at a gym you don't belong to and slog stinky gym clothes around with you until you finish the last interview at around 10pm. NO.
(You see, I did plan out HOW to work around this and get a run in. It was just that when I rolled out of bed at 7:00 I realized I wasn't going to be running anywhere, thanks to the major soreness affecting said quadriceps and hamstrings.)
My body was very happy for the "Break". Note that I did walk for AT LEAST an hour and a half more than I normally do (as my primary means of transportation.)
Now for the other half of the story.
I've detected a sneaky pattern. Friday is like my own personal version of Girls Gone Wild. It starts with drinking WAAAAY too much coffee at work. (Note to self: Need to get over the psychological roadblock that "VIERNES" (Friday) presents in my mind). Next I ALWAYS have a working lunch on Fridays where I have very little control over what food I eat.
Finally, by the time evening rolls around, all I want to do is drink copious amounts of red wine and stuff my face. So I (very easily) convince DH to go out to dinner (This takes very little convincing, as he is even more of a gourmand than I am) and then we usually top the night off with a drink at our local pub.
I know, I know, one day a week where I majorly go overboard on the calorie count isn't going to be the end of the world. One step back and two steps forward and all that jazz. But I would like to figure out how to mitigate the damage and rein myself in better on Fridays. 2400 kcals is not a travesty. Yet it is a minor setback, when I should be sticking to 1400-1600. Even divided amongst the other six days a week, it represents a stumbling block that just might knock me out.
Time to get creative and proactive.