A Confession

Generally speaking, I really do enjoy training.

The stress dissolving from my body during a long run. The joy of cruising rural roads with Patriot Sangria and my riding buddies. The glide through the pool as my arms and legs cut through the water.

But, every once in awhile, the real reason that motivates me to squeeze in a long scheduled workout is less about adrenalin, endorphins or even an approaching race...

and more about calorie burning.

For as long as I can remember, food and I have had a tenuous relationship. You know those kids – the lanky, skinny ones that can eat a three course dinner and then find themselves hungry for their first dessert an hour later?

Well, that was never me. I was the chubby third grader, the calorie counting sixth grader, the skip breakfast and lunch teenager. Along the way, there have been a few relative “thinner” stages, which always involved strict dieting and a moderate exercise plan. The last one occurred about two years ago when I lost 17 pounds. Still not skinny (nor close), but achieving a degree of acceptance with the scale and my body.

Imagine my joy during last year’s training for two half IMs and IMFL – when I could actually EAT with freedom, without guilt – and maintain my weight. Wow, three solid meals a day, sometimes second helpings, sometimes, even, gasp, dessert! Ooooh, a weekend party after a mega workout session? Awesome! Make room as I park myself at that buffet table!

In the back of my mind, I fear how easily it could all slip away. If the workouts slow down, either the pounds will creep on or the calorie nazi will need to be resuscitated.

So for now, if the consequence of skipping a workout is forgoing that bleu cheese topped filet, crusty bread and cabernet...

I’m grabbing my gym bag and heading out the door.