How to resist temptation? I don't fucking know. I didn't make any New Year's resolutions, so get that trite crap out of your head right now. Rather, I've been trying to adjust my lifestyle for some time. I'm far from obese, but I have these wobbly bits that I'm just not fond of. On top of that, my husband and I have been training for our first triathlon. Sounds pretty cool, right? Hmmph.
So we're in this group that trains and works out together. But while they're doing Century rides, I'm done at 18 miles because my shoulders and ass bones are all screaming at me. Every time we pass the brewery, I just want to kick my hooves up and pour that refreshing bubbly elixir down my average-athlete throat. And while they're clocking 6 minute miles on half-marathon distance "fun" runs, I'm bleeding out the eyes to get a sub 11-minute mile. They look elegant pulling on their speedos, while I'm contorting like a salt-sprinkled slug to stuff myself into my gear.
I can accept that these people have been doing triathlons years longer than I have, and therefore have the process more dialed in. And I can accept that, because they have it dialed in, their bodies are far more Front-Cover ready than mine. However, do you know how goddamn hard it is to show up everyday, knowing you look and perform like Average Jane, meanwhile being surrounded by the fittest, most beautiful people on earth? It sucks giant wads of ass nuggets.
My coach tells me to get out of my head about it, that everyone has to put in the work to get where they are. Yeah, I understand, man. And every last one of them is kind and supportive - which only pisses me off more, of course. The other challenge I face is that my husband has given up the hooch, so he started baking mounds of cookies as a substitute. He can have one or two, but my banana-grabbing monkey fingers think I'll die if I don't keep reaching for those chocolate-chip-laden heroin disks.
What's a girl to do? Every day I have to figure out how to swallow my pride and just show up. Every day I have to try - I have to compete against me and not them. I know what to eat and what not to eat - I understand all that. But, I could quit, you know. I could just let it all go; let go of all the expectations, challenges, and comparisons. My ego could take a break from the constant let-down. My coach would get a break from pep-talking me. I could try to just accept my wobbly bits. Wouldn't that be nice? Sure it would. But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to show up again tomorrow.
So we're in this group that trains and works out together. But while they're doing Century rides, I'm done at 18 miles because my shoulders and ass bones are all screaming at me. Every time we pass the brewery, I just want to kick my hooves up and pour that refreshing bubbly elixir down my average-athlete throat. And while they're clocking 6 minute miles on half-marathon distance "fun" runs, I'm bleeding out the eyes to get a sub 11-minute mile. They look elegant pulling on their speedos, while I'm contorting like a salt-sprinkled slug to stuff myself into my gear.
I can accept that these people have been doing triathlons years longer than I have, and therefore have the process more dialed in. And I can accept that, because they have it dialed in, their bodies are far more Front-Cover ready than mine. However, do you know how goddamn hard it is to show up everyday, knowing you look and perform like Average Jane, meanwhile being surrounded by the fittest, most beautiful people on earth? It sucks giant wads of ass nuggets.
My coach tells me to get out of my head about it, that everyone has to put in the work to get where they are. Yeah, I understand, man. And every last one of them is kind and supportive - which only pisses me off more, of course. The other challenge I face is that my husband has given up the hooch, so he started baking mounds of cookies as a substitute. He can have one or two, but my banana-grabbing monkey fingers think I'll die if I don't keep reaching for those chocolate-chip-laden heroin disks.
What's a girl to do? Every day I have to figure out how to swallow my pride and just show up. Every day I have to try - I have to compete against me and not them. I know what to eat and what not to eat - I understand all that. But, I could quit, you know. I could just let it all go; let go of all the expectations, challenges, and comparisons. My ego could take a break from the constant let-down. My coach would get a break from pep-talking me. I could try to just accept my wobbly bits. Wouldn't that be nice? Sure it would. But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to show up again tomorrow.