Alright team: a confession.
I’m trying to lose some weight. Not a lot – just enough to help me trim down my half-marathon running time.
I’ve run a few, and I’d like my time to be a bit faster. So this year my training plan includes lifting weights and losing some weight. Which means calorie counting. Which I loathe. So much.
Last night, I blew my allotted calorie budget on a delicious peanut tofu noodle dish. I thought I’d eat half of it, and instead I ate the entire thing – licking the bowl. After, I learned it was about 880 calories – which is huge, and represented about 3/4 of my recommended daily intake.
Me: “How?! How is that even possible?”
Q: “Yeah – noodles. It’s like ramen – ramen is about 500 calories.”
Me: “WHAT?!” We pulled out a pack of ramen: sure enough, 470 calories. (My adolescent chubbiness was suddenly explained.)
Q and I, while both disciplined (ie. we get things done), are different in at least one key way. He is stoic when he sets out to achieve something, whereas I complain bitterly every step of the way:
Me: “This is BS. Calorie counting is the worst.”
Me: “Why am I even doing this to myself? I have a beautiful body.” (Keep in mind – at this point, I’d handily blown my allotted daily calorie intake, and technically not dieted at all.)
Me: “I don’t even like running!” (Technically true, though I do like the feeling I have after I’ve finished a race.)
Q, meanwhile, when he trims down (say after Christmas or something), is silent. Just does it. Doesn’t blow his daily calorie budget and then lie on the couch, saying things like:
“God, I wish we had some wine.”
“Why don’t we keep more caramel tarts in the house? Wouldn’t that be delicious? Just one of those caramel tarts?” (Note: I have never said anything about caramel tarts before.)
In any event, it’s a slog. But if any of you are also on spring training plans: I feel your pain.