Food is Some Comfort

Food is comfort, and sometimes there's just no getting around that.  On Saturday evening I spent the evening drinking and eating over my feelings about the murder of a most dear couple.  I worked with Bob for several years and his wife, Susan, is the most best friend of a beloved friend of mine.  I still can't believe what happened and I'm still surprised by how very upsetting this whole thing is.  I suppose I shouldn't be, it's devastating on so many, many levels, but I'm usually comfortable having a bit of a stiff upper lip.  And an iron stomach, but this actually makes me feel sick every time I think about it.  The travesty of the whole thing, the inability for them to save him from his birthright, it hits me like a ton of bricks.  Probably not in small part due to my own background and my deepest fears for my own family because of my genes.  But this isn't that blog and all that matters here is that I ate and drank and ate and drank. 

Sunday was a great reunion with my children.  I was bursting with gratitude and loved them especially hard all day.  Needless to say I did not go to the gym.  Miguel had soccer while they were napping and the rest of their waking hours I could not leave them.  We ended up going to Costco to stock up on some much needed dry goods so I had a hot dog for dinner.

Yesterday, Monday, I did manage to get to the gym.  I did the bike for 25 minutes followed by chest/triceps/core work.  The pushups are still going well, it's very slow progress but progress just the same.  Reminds me of an inspirational picture that's been going around FB so I just added it to this post, I may not be there yet....  But we had to go back to Costco last night and we ended up eating getting food to-go from there for dinner.  This time I had a hot dog and a slice of pizza.  Ugh.  I felt really full and just a little bit sick.

I imagine I am "up" on the scale by more than a couple pounds.  And I don't care.  Not this week.  I will care next week perhaps.  Plenty of time to care and do something about it.  First I will get through the funeral of my much loved grandfather, which is this Saturday.  We are flying to LA on Friday morning, I will attend the viewing Friday evening and then we will all attend the funeral on Saturday afternoon.  Flying home Saturday evening and up in the early hours for the half-marathon on Sunday.

Miguel told me last night that he wants to bring the kids to see me cross the finish line.  I hadn't even imagined that, figured it was too much to ask.  But he wants to be there.  I hope it works out.  With 10,000 runners it's a little daunting.  I know that will give me a little extra nudge during those final miles.