Trick no Treat

After escaping the “Zone” I decided to celebrate by ordering Papa Johns from the Comfort Zone…my bedroom! I feel like I’m gettin one over when I can order up a pizza, pay for it and lay in wait for it’s arrival. Even the husband was impressed by my keen ability to put food on the table. That’s the kinda wife I am. Remember yesterday when I quoted the noted guru “Dr. Keith Abalow?”…bla bla what you are running from will appear in front of you? Well I was running from running…quite literally. All “too many pounds of me” (you’re not getting my weight) is getting ready to run a series of two back to backs marathons. While I don’t mind running marathons, the training sucks ass! Dr. Keith says I should tell you how I really feel. That’s how I really feel. You may be scratching your head and wondering, “I thought she was fat? How can she run marathons?” Much like a gallon of gas can move a truck, a good pair of sturdy running shoes and a division called “Clydesdale” can move even the fattest of the fatties. Trust me…I’ve seen women with some serious junk in the trunk beat me to the finish. It’s disturbing. The bottom line… you can burn over 3000 calories running a marathon! Imagine the joy of eating that back! I can’t get to the drive-thru fast enough! As you might expect…there’s skinny people trickery involved in everything that seems to good to be true. Bitches!

My friend Jen was kind enough to wake up early and ride her bike on my oppressive 13 mile training run. She carried the beverages and I carried my fat ass. Trust me when I tell you she got the better end of the deal! It had to be humid. I can’t catch a break. There’s nothing worse than a fatty all dressed up in running gear, dripping in sweat by mile 1. It started out just fine. In fact, I was wondering if someone had taken over my body. Well if they did they gave it back around mile 9! Jen was doing her job and making small talk to take my mind off of the pain. You see, it’s usually the half way point in any run that triggers the “why the hell am I doing this” response. My answers to her questions got shorter and shorter. Finally the demon came out….I confessed that I didn’t have enough energy to be fat, social and athletic. She understood and followed the trail of sweat leading to my ultimate demise. Somehow things got skewed and I thought I was done much earlier than my stupid lying ass GPS said I was. Invented by skinnies I’m sure. Nothing like running by your house for the 4th time. F’n torture. Jen’s GPS had me at a full marathon so I was inclined to go with her figures! But like a good little egg I pressed on. Did I mention how evil I get when I’m tired? Yeah…yeah. So this guy from church (never a good start to any statement) sees me and says, “You’re still running?” Much like someone asking you if you are having twins when you are not in fact pregnant….these statements require you to be witty and condescending all at the same time. I dug deep and found enough energy to say, “Yup…all 13 miles worth.” It’s the shock factor that thrills me. Besides, I was almost done and I needed to aquire a fan or two before I finished.

Here’s the trickery part….somewhere along the way Jen asked me what I would eat when I finished. Running low on air it would have been easier to tell her what I wouldn’t eat. However, this is where things get tricky. When you run any sort of distance you learn to dream of how you will replenish your fat stores. It keeps you happy in an otherwise painful situation. Not that my fat stores need replenishing but it seemed fair to play along. In fact, my fat stores should say “Closed for Inventory!” So I told her my favorite staple post run was PBJ. I could taste the chunks in the peanut butter as it rolled off my tongue. That’s most likely why my tongue was then stuck to the roof of my mouth! I decided it was time to let the cat out of the bag…there would be no eating when I finished. I heard the brakes on the bike squeal like a whore in heat. Yes, I knew she wouldn’t understand and that would have me using precious air to splain. It’s pretty easy to understand when you really think about it. Your blood has been redirected from your stomach to your muscles to keep you moving. As much as I would like to command it back so that I can house some fries, it doesn’t work that way. It’s trickery.

As if the confession wasn’t enough drama for one day, the husband has to add to my misery with his own version of torture. I was in the shower washing away the stench when my phone rang. Being a slave to the man I answered it. This is what came from the other end, “Hey honey I’m at McDonald’s do you want anything?” We’ve been married 4 years. He knows I’ll settle for anything from the left of the menu over. However, on this day, he got the following response “No thanks, I’m not hungry.” Things got sketchy but I think he said, “Oh sorry wrong number!” Fries delivered for the asking and I say I’m not hungry. Second time today someone has invaded my body. So I started thinking…instead of all of these diet drugs that make your ass leak, why not find a way to drive all of the blood out of your stomach for a few hours and kill the hunger! Oh without the exercise part. I’d like to go on record and say that I will officially give up running when that drug hits the market. We may look pasty white and we may not have alot of energy BUT…I dare say it’s a far cry better than Olestra running down your thong!

So now that I have solved the worlds problems it’s time for me to get some food in me. I think the blood has officially re-entered the stomach thus opening the flood gates for whatever I can get my hands on. Oh and another thing….running kills the urge to nap! I know…skinny and awake….amazing! I did my best to overthrow the nap thing. I laid in bed and forced myself to sleep. You gotta give me something here! So the next time you feel a hunger pain, grab your running shoes and run until you are ready to puke. It’s not ideal but neither is a frequent shopper card at Lane Bryant…..ooookkkkay!