So I've been doing a whole lotta nothing since the triathlon. I had a plan to run on Monday, an easy recovery run. Didn't happen. Then I had a plan to run on Tuesday, also an easy recovery run. Didn't happen. Today (Wednesday) I'd hoped to get in a run and hit the gym. Babysitter cancelled and, you guessed it, didn't happen.
And my eating has been entirely meh. Nothing to write home about. It's not out of control exactly, but it's not really under control either. Of course my weight is up by a few pounds...give or take a pound or two (in the up direction). Enough beating around the bush...I'm 143.8 pounds. And I need to be doing something about it. Scratch that, I want to be doing something about it. And pizza is not the something I should be doing.
It's not all doom and gloom around here. The evening snacking is back on track. My friend Michelle is texting me again and I survived a particularly difficult evening last night. Miguel was out and that is often a time when I want to munch. In my old life time alone with a kitchen meant I could finally eat whatever I wanted without worry of being observed. I don't know if that's why being alone in the evening makes me munchie or if it's something else but as I've said before, the why isn't so important. It's the how that matters.
Blah, blah, blah - I'm not snacking in the evening. And while my general food choices need some work, it's the momentum that needs to turn around. I think some of it might be post-race blues. I hear there is such a thing. And the bigger the race, the heavier the blues. I don't really have the blues, just a bit of a post-race slow-down perhaps. I've just been reminding myself that things will turn around, that my fire will re-ignite here soon enough, and that all will be right with the world again.