Eat and Run

For as long as I can remember I have harbored two distinct desires. The first is to create an incredibly cut and buff body, strong enough for a stranger to know it with one glance in my direction. I try to keep myself strong enough and fit enough to enable me to accept any adventurous invitation. “Hey Kate, wanna go rock climbing with me?”

“Why yes I do.”

“Hey Kate, wanna do that hike up the top of that mountain peak and hang out for the afternoon?”

“Why yes I do.”

“Hey Kate, wanna do a triathlon with me?”

“Why yes I do.”

If the word no comes up, I want it to be because I don’t want to do it, not because I don’t think I can do it.

“Hey Kate, wanna jump off of a cliff into a tiny pool of crystal clear water that looks about the size of a cereal bowl?” This is something called the Punch Bowl out in Aspen Colorado. My brother in law offered this particular experience up to Josh and me on a visit out there.

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

The second desire is the utter delight that accompanies eating delicious food. For years I refused to split meals with my husband. He wanted to do it for variety. The salmon sounds good to him, but so does that vodka pasta dish that I want to order. How about we get them both and split them. I statistically hated this idea. Such a situation left me with a 50/50 chance that I would order the better dish and then have to share half of it. If I order the better dish, I want to enjoy all of it and the fact that I made the superior decision. If I make the unfortunate choice of ordering a sub-par dish, then I will eat it and learn my lesson for next time.

Although I relish a good meal out at a restaurant, the everydayness of food brings me the most joy. The view of my fridge the day after grocery shopping creates a sound feeling of contentment. Food of all shapes and colors lay in wait for the next meal or snack. I am sure to prep all of the food the day I get it to ensure the meals are easy and quick to make. Red peppers are sliced, green onions chopped, cheese grated, and onions minced. They sit stacked in their little Tupperware containers obediently biding their time.

Naturally, these two desires do not necessarily go hand in hand. My appreciation for a good hamburger and French fries matches my desire to hit the gym to lift and run. There are fitness gurus who suggest when dining at a restaurant one should request no butter, no cream sauce, and a side of steamed veggies. I absolutely refuse to enter that arena. No buff physique is worth giving up garlic mashed potatoes or deep dish pizza. And so this leaves me as I am, a healthy weight but not necessarily cut. You can see my bicep muscles if I flex for you. Ask me what I ate for dinner last night, and I will certainly be able to tell you.

So, I may never grace the cover of a magazine or be the envy of the other women at the gym. Still, I’m game for almost any adventure you can conjure up. Afterwards, when we hit dinner, you won’t hear me counting calories, but I may ask you to pass the bread basket.