Busted.

Thursday, November 15, 2012
“It was the best of times…it was the worst of times.”

I made it to the park before dark with Dakota in tow and binoculars and my camera around my neck.  I’d decided to take an extra day between Survival Workouts since my elbow was a little sore from my last session.  I was armed and ready to spot something interesting and photograph it.  I’d even had the foresight to take Dakota’s jangling collar off and place it in my pocket so she wouldn’t spook wildlife as we made our way towards the marsh, but after 70 minutes of hiking on this cool, grey evening we had nothing.

I drove home thinking I had to do more.  I changed into my cycling shorts as soon as I got back and immediately jumped on the trainer so as not to lose my resolve.  In no time the sweat was pouring down my sides and onto the towels I used to drape the bike and floor beneath me.  I managed an hour of this mundane torture before calling it quits.

For dinner, I made one of my delicious smoothies crammed with spinach, carrots, fruits, yogurt and cider.  I was feeling pretty good about the whole day, but as the 10 o’clock hour approached, I began to feel the need to chew something.  I rummaged through the refrigerator, but didn’t find the answer there.  I was getting weaker by the moment…and then I broke.  I reached into the ‘forbidden’ drawer where we kept untouchable foods.  When I pulled it open, my eyes went immediately to a small, cardboard box with rectangular pastries called ‘poptarts’ featured on the outside.  I grabbed a pack, stripped it down and threw them in the toaster as fast as you could say ‘shitty food.’  While they were toasting, I poured a glass of milk and dumped in some Hershy’s chocolate syrup.  The toaster dinged that my treats were ready as Jack was entering the kitchen.  He sized up the situation in a glance.

“What are you doin’ dad?”

“I’m having a little…um…snack,” I said.

“But dad…poptarts and…what’s that behind your back?”

“It’s…it’s…milk.  Chocolate, if you must know.  Look…I hiked over an hour and I rode the trainer for an hour.  I’m craving some carbs to replace what I burned,” I said, defensively.

He just looked at me and shook his head.  “I’m so disappointed in you.”

And this from a kid who six months ago could smell Breyer’s vanilla ice cream from the neighbors and consume a quart in the time it took me to peel a banana.  Well, I suppose I’m proud of the monster I helped create, but it would be nice to have to deal only with my own conscience when I want to eat poorly.

Hike Duration: 70 minutes.  Bike Duration: 60 minutes.
Training Heart Rate: 80 bpm running and 120 bpm biking.
Calories burned during workout: 350 running and 850 biking.