On I went, out of the wood, passing the man leading without knowing I was going to do so. Flip-flap, flip-flap, jog-trot, jog-trot, curnchslap-crunchslap, across the middle of a broad field again, rhythmically running in my greyhound effortless fashion, knowing I had won the race though it wasn't half over, won it if I wanted it, could go on for ten or fifteen or twenty miles if I had to and drop dead at the finish of it, which would be the same, in the end, as living an honest life like the governor wanted me to. -Alan Sillitoe, "Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner"

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

And... the resolve lasts two days

So typical: I got up this morning a little before 8 and promptly got my running clothes, including shoes, on. I filled my water bottle. I found my ipod. Then... I puttered. And puttered. And made up excuses for why I didn't have time to go running before work. And checked my email. Finally, it was too late and I genuinely did have to go to work. Why am I like this? Where is my self-control?

I didn't shower but instead brought my gym clothes with me to force myself to stop at the gym on the way home from work. I always feel better when I run, so why don't I run more? What is the obstacle that keeps me from doing something I know is good for me and that makes me feel better about myself?

Another note: I'm at work now, and I just got lunch from our cafeteria. Some pasta and steamed vegetables. The cafeteria worker insisted on sprinkling some extra cheese on my pasta for me, before I could even object. I love the food here, but I love it precisely because it's so terrible for me (ribs and fried chicken is a typical day for us).

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