We were at the fair recently and so I have confirmation of a past phenomenon still occurring -- the weight mismatched couple. You've seen them. Rail thin guy and his obese woman. It's always comical to me because I can hear Earl in my head making lewd jokes about her smothering him. Anyway, Sage is off running every morning to train for the Chicago Marathon, and now he's spouting off about how he may be biologically built for a 50-mile desert run. This means I (it's about ME of course) have a new-found problem. Runners eat carbs, and I am the pasta princess. I was crowned in the late 70s over a bowl of steaming spaghetti marinara (in case you missed the ceremony).He is already eating so much food. I love to cook and I am joyfully cooking lovely, starchy things for him. And eating them. I am only about 3 lbs up from last year this time. But he is only training to run a regular marathon right now and hasn't officially declared himself an iron man.
I have two options moving forward: Eat WAY less of all this food I am cooking. Or become an iron woman so I can imbibe. This week I have plans to bake chocolate muffins, apple cobbler, and several delicious pasta and rice sides to go with salmon and chicken. I have bought fresh french bread, new olive oil . . .
Yeah, you can find me at the gym tomorrow afternoon. I am going to have to hope I have discipline to work out, because I don't have the discipline to deny myself food.
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