My marathon training is over and I now need to eat normal food portions again. No more root beer floats or bowls of moose tracks ice cream after the kids go to bed. Running 20 miles has it's perks in the food category. Basically you can eat whatever you like, within reason.
The training has ended and reality has set in. I wanted to be on top of it.
My brother, aka Crazy Uncle James, is on top of it. He's become somewhat of a nutritional finatic in recent months. I need to cut back on the amount of sugar I eat. So, I've adopted James' rule:
No sweets after 8pm.
4 simple words, but it's a huge challenge for me.
Only fruit after 8pm.
The devoted Mr. Garland is graciously joining me on this one but truth be told, he won't struggle with this the way I will.
I'm the kind of girl who doesn't say these kinds of words after 8pm: "Yummy cut up bananas topped with blueberries!" Sure, I'd love this for breakfast, but in the evening, my hankerin's are mostly for all things chocolate and ice cream.
And here's the kicker. I've been pretty good for the last few weeks with the new rule, except for tonight. I sat down at the computer and ate an ice cream cone. You know the packaged drumstick kind. With a chocolate-coated cone and nuts sprinkled on top.
I knew it wouldn't be easy. I'm human, and it was just an "I've had a rough day so I deserve an ice cream cone" night.
This is how the trouble begins.
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