Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Close to the vest

I've fallen out of my rhythm.

When I moved down here last July, I weighed about 275 pounds. Working at Clark's for six weeks and biking every day dropped that to 215.
Working at The Evening Sun, sitting at my desk or in my car, I've begun to fatten up again.

Plus, I haven't ridden my bike since the fall.
There are five or six spokes broken on the back rim, the chain's really really rusty, and it desperately needs new brakes.
I had to store it outside this past winter. I had no choice.

Plus, even though its less physically demanding than my warehouse job, my current gig just sucks the will right out of me. Or maybe that's just me.

I need to start jogging again. I need to get back in shape. I need to pay my bills, clear my credit cards, fix my bike, eat healthier.

I need to go back to last August/September. Except not with the warehouse job.
I think what I really need is self control. No more candy. No more snacks. No more soda. I would eat a turkey-and-cheese sandwich, an apple and a granola bar every day for lunch.

When I first started at the paper, I cut out the granola bar. Turkey-and-cheese and an apple. And water. Then I would come home, bike for an hour, shower, and start my "evening."

Is it any surprise that I lost so much weight?

But now I'm slipping. I'm eating at Subway or Alex's Pizza when I should have packed a lunch. I figure, I'm a reporter now. Not a warehouse worker. I'm entitled to something.
Apparently I'm just entitled to gain weight.

When I first started, my schedule kind of threw me. I worked 10-6 or 2-10. So I would get up early, exercise and go into work. That sort of worked. But running everyday did something awful to my right hip joint. Listen to me, I'm an old man at the age of 22.

I've said this before, and I've made this promise before. No more junk food. But then lunchtime comes around and I go "mmmm I want some Twizzlers." I know there are worse things to eat, but it doesn't matter if Twizzlers are low in high-fructose corn syrup -- they're still candy.

I think I feel so off because Caitlin was on vacation all last week. And what am I going to do as me? Sit and cook a nice dinner, and make my sandwich every morning? Psh. That's for losers. Of course I had Hot Pockets and frozen pizzas.
Which I ate in the fall, but then only on weekends. One Hot Pocket Friday night, one Saturday night. It was like my reward for working the whole week, not snacking, and exercising like hell.

It all just seems like it's a giant centrifuge, and it's spinning faster and faster and faster, and I'm close to being thrown out. Also, buying Twizzlers and whatnot is denting my funds, man. My funds.

Everytime I sit down to write out a new budget, I get depressed. Or distracted. Both, perhaps.

I just needed to say that.

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