Desire

I’ve been debating on what to write about here. I don’t think I’m going to go in the direction I planned on originally. I’m tired of writing about my emotions and crap.

I’m going to talk about the love/hate relationship with food and exercise instead. That’s a fun topic, right?

I love to eat. I hate to exercise.

Scratch that. I hate exercising alone. I’m the type of person who gets bored easily. So I can run, or use an elliptical or lift weights but if I’m by myself, forget it. My mind starts wandering. Big time. I need someone else with me to keep me on track. Or distract my mind from being bored so that I want to go do something else.

My friends all have an allergic reaction to exercise, or so I’m told. My husband and son have their bonding time when they run. They run faster than I do so they get annoyed if I want to go with them. Or they just run ahead of me and I end up running half the distance because I need to turn around sooner to get back to the car at the same time they do.

Now, I don’t need anyone else around when I eat, though. That’s quite a problem I have. I love food too much and exercise not enough. Eating is my go-to. Food is there for me when I’m feeling down or excited. Food never lets me down.

Until I start feeling a little too uncomfortable in my clothes. Then food has let me down big time. That’s when I start getting a little more physical and ramp up the activities again.

Maybe if I just sucked it up and focused on my runs I wouldn’t lose my form. If I didn’t lose my form then maybe my knees wouldn’t give me problems. If my knees didn’t give me problems I could run farther and longer. If I ran more, then maybe I could eat whatever my heart desired.

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