As I stood at the kitchen sink last night literally inhaling ice cream with Magic Shell on top (mmmmm, Magic Shell), I had to kick myself in the ass once again. I am doing it.
The pre-race sabotage.
I do this before every, single “big race” that I have. The Expert says that it’s my “nature” response.
That in the scenario of “Fight or Flight,” I am always the “hunker down, eat and hibernate type” in preparation for “Fight.” I never flight–I fight. Which is tough, because triathlon by it’s very nature, is very prone to “flight” – fast and running.
Not me. I bulk up like a bear and growl at my sink, batting away people with my meaty paws, “Get away from my FOOD!” (That was kind of in my Napoleon Dynamite voice…. Meredith, EAT YOUR FOOD!“)
…Anyway, as I am literally on my 12th meal last night, the Expert looks at me and says, “Stop it. Just stop. I can’t watch it anymore.”
To which, I just start laughing. Because he is SO right. I am literally eating everything that isn’t eating me… preparing for the “battle” that is Beach 2 Battleship 140.6 in a mere 17 days.
But the issue?
I do NOT need to be bulking up. I need to be stopping the insanity. Eating clean (with the exception of my pre-long-workout Munchkins), and getting my act together.
So today. I am doing that. Yes, yes I am. Gawd help me.
With a 15-17 mile run on tap for Friday…. a 6 hour race rehearsal brick on Saturday–the sh*t is getting real.
And I need to put my meaty bear paws on some carrots and apples and walk away from the sugar.
With the exception of this SUGAR^^^^… baby Jax. Sweet Red’s little sweet baby boy.