It’s been a while since I posted anything nutrition or health related.  To bring you up to speed on where I am, in the last two months I have both achieved the pinnacle of my current successes as well as slid into the deep trough that so frequently follows such achievement.   The high point was completing a half marathon — I’ll be honest and say I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to do that.  Not only did I do it, but I ran the whole thing without pause and I did it at a decent pace.  Some would say that means I’m ready to train for a full marathon.  To those people, I say: fuck that.  Thirteen miles is plenty for me, thanks.

Though confession: I am excessively proud of the hot pink “13.1” sticker that David brought home for me that day.  I kind of wish I had a trapper keeper to stick it on.

What immediately followed was a week of vacation, the beginning of summer, and back to back work travel with David.  In other words, a solid month of excuses and reasons why a margarita is a good idea.  I contest that it can’t just be me who feels a compelling need to lay in the sun and drink margaritas any time it’s over 80 degrees and the sun is shining.  Can it?

Bueller?  Bueller?

Regardless, in addition to the introduction of processed sugar via margarita mix, I’ve also been indulging in the accompanying chips and salsa.  Ah, tortilla chips, you devil.  You are the best that corn and canola oil will ever taste, and one of the few snack items I truly have a hard time walking away from.  Especially if the salsa is good or – heaven forbid – someone brings out fresh guacamole.  I’m sunk.  And the probability of such an occurrence increases in direct proportion to the onset of summer weather.

And what else is there to do after a few margaritas and some chips but to break out the ice cream?  Because at this point you’re pretty hot from laying in all that sun.  And one bad decision makes the next one so much easier.   It’s like a slippery food slope that lands you in a pint of mocha chip.  Granted, it’s almond milk ice cream.  But since I have been buying it instead of making it, there are chemicals and brown rice syrup and all kinds of other things on the “do not” list.  Not dairy, but just about everything else.

The net result of all these bad decisions is feeling truly awful some mornings and a general lack of energy throughout the day.  My alarm clock started becoming more and more annoying, and the effort to drag myself from the bed was becoming greater.  More tired. Less accomplished.  Definitely moving in the wrong direction.

And while I still managed to at least half-ass my runs most days, I haven’t done any serious toning work in a few weeks, either.  That’s not the path to Jennifer Aniston arms and stomach muscle definition.

So yeah. That’s where I am right now.  But I’m not beating myself up about it too much, actually, because let’s be honest — half the reason to work hard all winter is to enjoy the beginning of summer, right?  Well for me, anyway.  This indulgence was partially in celebration and acknowledgement that yes – I earned it.   Summer is here.  Days are longer.  Life is short.   Etc. Etc.  But there is a time to stop all the celebrating and get back on track so as not to undo all the hard work, too.  And that time is probably now. Or now-ish.

For that purpose, I’m stopping to take stock of the situation with perspective.  At the end of this summer, I will turn 35 years old.  In fact, almost exactly three months from now.  90 days.  I want that moment to feel awesome.  Truly amazing.  Like I didn’t just wake up one day and realize I was 35, but that I marched right up to it, looked it in the face and said “I got this.”  Take it by storm.  In fact, I saw a quote yesterday that said “I am not a girl.  I am a storm with skin.”  And I thought — yes.  That’s it.

And so I purposely set down the tequila, the chips and the ice cream.  And instead I pick up a renewed enthusiasm for the way it feels to wake up before your alarm goes off, excited to start the day.  For the way it feels to flex a recently worked muscle and know you’re doing something good for your body that will keep you healthy and active longer into your life.  For the sense of accomplishment that comes from laying down at night knowing you kicked ass today.

And I challenge anyone who is looking for an extra dose of motivation to join me.   Ping me on Facebook or email, and we will do it together.  Because it doesn’t have to feel hard – like a chore.  A challenge, yes.  But not a chore.  Taking care of yourself is part of living life to its fullest, and how you feel about that part of life is up to you.  If you dread it, hate it, and feel deprived, you’re going to fight yourself forever.  Stop fighting and find a way to love it.  Love yourself.  Be a storm with skin.