Originally posted here
Like today... When you (well, me) have eaten AT LEAST 3 brownies.
I say "at least" because I was eating the edges that I'd cut off and, I'm assuming, they add up to 3 for the day, but really, who the hell even knows... Emotional eating was part of it, but part of it was just the sheer "damn, these are good" feelings.
What isn't so good? That feeling that comes afterwards.
Which, for me, means a run.
I live about 2 miles from my gym and I've often thought about running to the gym, doing my workout, and running home. But I've always chickened out... Running at night on uneven sidewalks, the weather, whatever: I'm the queen of excuses. But today, after my "3" (we'll call it "3") brownies, I just told myself I was going to do it. So I put myself in my 2nd pair of shorts (these are the same type as the ones I bought at Kohl's, but are Champion from Target and are slightly longer...), a short sleeve, neon (read "CARS, DONT HIT ME!!!") shirt, and my running vest, and took off. 6mph pace and made it to the gym in 20 minutes. I wasn't tired and got straight away to my strength training. (Now that I'm used to the routine, instead of 3 sets of 15, I'm on 2 sets of 20 that, in May, will move to 2 sets of 25, before reevaluating in June.)
Sarah is usually with me on Fridays and we strength train together, but tonight she was recouping from a long work trip and I was solo. My wedding rings are too huge now, so I wear them on my middle finger and, apparently the chap in the weight room thought I was single. And, if I were, he was my type... But I'm not, so I just smiled and kept right on at my workout. But I have to admit that, although it was disconcerting to feel quasi-watched during my workout (especially since I was sweaty from my run), it also gave me a sense of "OMG- that guy thinks I'm cute!", which was nice. I'm usually cat-called on my runs by middle schoolers (where my only thought is "I'm old enough to be your mother!"), but someone in his thirties who thought I was cute? That I can be happy with.
Forty minutes later, I strapped my water belt back on and headed out in to the breezy night for my return 2 miles. Again, a 6mph pace. And it was GREAT. Awesome. Just me and the moon. I ran through downtown, as it is better lit than the side streets, and then down my street. Other than slowing to avoid some dangerous sidewalk areas, it was a solid, quick pace. (My long runs average about 5mph. I'm hoping to work up to a solid 6mph by the half-marathon in September, but I'd be happy holding a 5mph too.)
When I got home, my heart wasn't racing and I felt on top of the world.
Since I still have my long run (8 miles!!!, a 9 mile outing with my warm-up and cool-down!!!) for this weekend, I'm hoping to have the runners high sans brownies the next time I strap my running shoes on...