Time on my hands

Monday mornings are usually hectic around here. But last night I got such a jump on things that lunch is made (a slow cooker recipe for Italian Sunday "gravy") and I may have time for a haircut.

Even at 6 a.m., the weather is just barely tolerable in the park. I see people running at noon and in the early afternoon when the heat is at its peak, and I sincerely don't know how they do it. Back in the day, when I was an aerobics fanatic, some people would complain that they didn't sweat; but that was in Mexico City with its cool climate. Here we are raining down on the running path like a summer storm, which is natural in this horrible heat. My body, however, thinks the world is coming to an end at the slightest suggestion of effort on my part, and it begins pouring sweat immediately. I can't even make a bed without sweating, and the better my cardiopulmonary condition becomes, the faster I start to perspire. I get so soaked that it looks like I did a lot more than I really was able to do. Good. I can fake people out.

The other thing my body continues to demand is more calories each day than I've expended in the entire week. This is one miserable trick of nature, frankly, and we are not amused, as Queen Elizabeth would say. This morning after my workout (Adrián be praised, he prescribed another easy session) I made the mistake of going to the store without eating breakfast beforehand. They say you should never shop for food when hungry. They are right, whoever they are. After stocking up on veggies and fruits galore, a sudden urge to get biscuits and cinnamon rolls hit me. I fought off vanilla ice cream although I came away bruised, and my legs propelled me toward the check-out aisle while my upper body tried to cling to the cooler that had ready-made pie dough. My legs gained the upper hand, so to speak, at least this time. They were caught off guard, however, in the cereal section where I managed to grab a box of chocolate Special K before forging on toward the dishwashing detergents. Even there, however, I grabbed a dishwashing liquid that smells like oranges, and only a sense of self-preservation kept me from taking a swig of it. A virtual running pal suggested protein drinks, and they are the only thing keeping me from gaining weight while running longer. I had this fantasy of the new me, slim and trim, by the time I could hack a 5K, but danged if it isn't the same old Karen complete with washboard fat! Next year I may have to try for a 10K to see if that helps.