For most folks, maybe.
I, for one, happen to like all that exertion, and not just the fresh air and the joy of motion, but the neurochemical result: endorphins and adrenalin, my other favorite mood elevators, Mother Nature's very own Speedball. Yes, almost nothing else makes my least favorite coworkers easier to put up with than a couple of heaping scoops of endogenous opioids and catecholamines. . .
|Love me. Take me. You know you want it.|
Or so I think.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that one of the few remaining low-hanging fruit left for me in the quest for triathlon excellence is getting a better handle on diet. Even though I've done at least 5-10 hours/week of exercise for my entire adult life, my weight has vacillated within a 45 pound range. For the last few years, I've been on the lower end. But not the lowest, and not as light as I imagine I could be without losing strength.
So dietary discipline actually has always appealed to me, in a "Mañana" sort of way. It's a handy coincidence that this week is when Karen and I have committed to start writing out everything we eat in anticipation of a consultation with Grasky Endurance's resident nutritionist and triathlon coach Brandon Nichols.
|Hey, hun! What's for dessert?|
Already, I've skipped that extra morning bagel, replacing with an apple. Not so hard, at any given moment, one would think. Except at night, when my IQ plummets to that of an australopithecus, right along will my will to resist wayward impulses to consume sweets . . .
OK, it's going to be a pitched battle.