Plan B

Life has been a bit of a struggle since my last, overly optimistic post.  I tried getting out to run again too soon after the race and discovered that recovery time is a real thing.  Then over the weekend I pulled something in the back of my leg.  Whatever is connected to the back of the hip, travels across the cheek and ends in the loins...I pulled it and good.  So working out has not be preferable.  I admit it's possible, but I prefer to heal rather than run the risk of more injury.  I have to remember that I'm still 150 pound overweight and can do more damage simply because of the extra mass I carry.

Life hasn't slowed down since the race either.  It was pretty hectic leading up to race day and I had a small expectation that things would calm down a bit since I no longer had to focus on my training and could fully divert my attention to the kid's cross country seasons.  Well, let's just say I am naive and leave it at that.

Life also isn't giving us any breaks.  I'll only allude to my wife's issues and say that PTSD is a bitch.  Not knowing what is going on and having never really identified how she experienced flashbacks has made the last month hell with no answers.  Now we have a better idea of what a flashback is like for her and she has specific skills and medical instruction in how to deal.  It will be better. I hope.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  I've learned many of my emotional food triggers from habit to childhood memories to fear of scarcity.  I've learned to identify them quickly, change my attitude, forgive and move on.  But I've never conquered stress eating.  And I can feel it coming on and I feel powerless.  It's that old feeling of wondering just when the hell am I going to break and give in and chow down on the carbs I soooo crave.  And more often than not, I do.  That period of the evening starting at about 8 and lasting until I go to bed are the worst.

I've had a few successes.  Every fiber in my body wants Ramen Noodle Surprise, a decadent college student dish that I practically lived on back in the day.  Cooked noodles, drained, with a pad of butter and half of the flavor packet stirred in.  My arteries just hardened writing that sentence.  We've got them in the pantry.  I want them. But every evening I have chosen to not have them.  I'll have bread or cereal or granola bars instead to feed my unrelenting cravings.  I know, instinctively, that to have that RNS will be the gateway into a full on binge.  Snacking on these choices have kept me from doing so while at the same time relieving that panic of just when is it that I will fall from grace each evening.

But it takes an enormous amount of energy to make that decision and keep making it all evening long.

I need to run.  It is the only other activity besides eating I've discovered that does more that distract from stress, it relieves me of it.  Spending my energy in doing something instead of not doing something is so much easier. 

Which leaves me with this.

I know what I want.  I know what I do not want to do.  And yet I am completely locked up in this ball of life with outside obligations and inside demons that keep me from doing these things.  And lest anyone say "you just gotta make the time" let me preempt that and say, I know.  What I'm saying is I don't know how.  Right here, right now, in my specific life situation of the present day, between injury and obligation, I don't know how.

So here is plan B.  I will heal my muscles.  I will not eat the Ramen Noodle Surprise.  And that's the best I can do for today.

Tomorrow is another chance at plan A.