I dedicate this post to anyone who has consumed ice cream, potato chips, cold pizza (hell, you pick the poison) just before they go to bed. If you have done this once or twice, you’ll know the voice that echoes in your head as you cram food in your face…it’s ok, eat some more, we’ll run a little extra tomorrow! Yeah, right. I am a fat runner (first step is admitting it). I know, it sounds like an oxy-moron, but it’s true. Although I haven’t run for two weeks (I am running after this article posts); I am running in my 7th ½ marathon in October, my blood pressure is in a good place and I have a solid collection of medals, but I am 235 pounds. The weight thing wouldn’t be bad if I was 6’5”, but I am 5’10”, so…yes, I am a fat runner.
A few weeks ago I figured out that balance isn’t something you can find, it’s something that you have to choose. My previous search for balance had been tailored to managing the “career world” and creating my escape from the corporate hamster wheel (you know the drill…stop the long hours, spend more time with the family, stop checking email at 10pm at night). I’ve found new ways to make more balanced choices relative to work, so now I am embarking on a new and more challenging quest, the quest to squash the pleasures of late night eating.
I might be in the minority with this weakness, so if this whole topic seems completely foreign to you, please come by my house around 11pm on a random Thursday night and you’ll find me asleep on the couch (this is where the problem starts). I put my 3 angelic maniacs to bed around9pmand once they go to bed, I go to the couch. The TV goes on for some mind numbing entertainment and within 20 minutes of my newly found “peace and quiet”, I am out cold. Phase II of my problem sets in approximately 1 hour after falling asleep. I stir on the couch, wake up and notice that it’s11pmand I realize that I have to get up at 530am, so I exit the couch and head to bed. This is decision time.
Once I rub my eyes, stretch a bit and get off the couch, I have a choice. Go left- through the living room with a clear shot to the stairs and a direct line of sight to the comfort of my king size bed or…go right, through the kitchen and force myself to pass the food corridor of hell. Who are we kidding? I go right 7 out of 10 times. This horrible decision took place, again, last night and as I ate a chunk of chocolate, dipped in peanut butter (my fat guy genes told me that it was totally cool because I needed the protein from the peanut butter and the calories from the chocolate to fuel my muscle healing). My inner marathon voice shouted, mid-chew, “hey, jackass- why don’t we run once in 9 days before you decide to cram homemade peanut butter cups down our throat at11pm”
The fat guy genes prevailed on Friday night…I ate 3 more pieces of chocolate.
So, I’m off to run this morning and am looking for ways to condition myself to stay out of the kitchen at night, working toward becoming a runner who doesn’t have to run simply to burn off the calories from the mid night food bender that so often plagues me.
Enjoy your weekend and I hope to report in the weeks to come that I have found a way to defeat the late night eating demons and can work toward becoming a “less than fat” runner.