I love all the fireside nachos, s’mores, other fall comfort foods, and beverages I’m consuming this weekend. A little eat-cheat isn’t bad. My problem: I have lack of control when garbage food is available for grazing. In my mind, people with the will or natural inclination to turn up their noses at junk are just weird, superhuman or are possibly aliens. (Or maybe just stronger willed than me.)
One of the biggest contributing factors to my relationship with food, and I say this with much love, is my relationship with people as I watch them this weekend. Like me, my kin love to eat. Always have. We all have a soft spot for calorie rich food (usually located somewhere in the midsection). Fresh veggies are in short supply. Comfort in baked goods is in high demand. Much of it goes back to good German stock and grandmothers who cooked to care for their family and show love.
Personally, the price I pay for my gluttony is that I am a guilty eater. I love bad food, but hate the consequences. This is the main reason why I don’t buy snacks and other things when I go to the store. My weekend has also been filled with, “Ooh, that potato salad is so good. Oh, after that second helping, I hate me.”
Of course, my English muffins and natural peanut butter (my go to breakfast) were packed with me for the weekend, so it’s not like I don’t have other options. The power of familiarity and emotion are strong, and run deep as a habit, even in the face of such good habits as running and being a bit or aware in my day-to-day eating.
The occasional lapse in judgement or trip reminds me that I can always do a little better with how I fuel my body, especially as race day approaches. The trip also reminds how far I’ve come in my running health journey I started 4 years ago, and where I could fall back to.