Here is a picture of Scott and me in Times Square, circa 1999 (look how thin we both were!). When he and I get together -- I don't know why -- I just have to go toe-to-toe with him (the storm clouds gather). You see from the picture what a ridiculous impulse this is, right? Thankfully, they did the heavy drinking the night before I arrived (though I have held my own in the past -- and why did I feel the need to add that?) But on Friday night, he and the best man each ordered "The Big Feed," which consists of three different BBQ'd meats. I know that a healthy portion is probably half of any single portion of meat on that plate, but what did I do? Krissy: "You guys are getting The Big Feed? Yeah, I can handle that." And the triathlete inside me died a little...from a coronary.The real question in all of this is why, oh why, does my competitive nature show up for unhealthy events like BBQ and workplace strife while remaining safely tucked away at times I could really use it -- like when I'm embedded in Zone 1 for training and (therefore) racing? I like to fancy myself the Tuff Girl, and on the Tuff Scale, overeating doesn't hold a candle to triathlon. (Apparently, I'm a champion metaphor-mixer too.)
So I'm not off to a very good start. In my defense, the wedding came at a
bad time for such things. BUT...it is Monday. My usual "day one." I have a swim and a short run scheduled this afternoon. If I don't do it, I expect a full and complete e-flogging from all of you.By the way:
I'm off animals-with-feet for a while (fish is still okay). I feel like the kid who was made to smoke an entire pack of cigarettes after getting caught by the principal. You want proof? Yesterday I ate Cheerios, rice, and spaghetti squash. Happily. Today? A blissful can of peaches for breakfast, and much-needed spinach for lunch.
"A magical animal..."
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