these are officially the dog days of summer. my typical love for spooning has been replaced by the necessity for NO TOUCH - must have maximum access to air at all times!!! not that it helps - the air feels like the exhaust pipe of a bus. there’s not much to do but spoon mother nature.
so i got my rollerblade fixed - finally. i had to have 6 eyelets installed in the right shoe, whose previous lace assembly came apart when i attempted to tie them up many drunken nights ago. brute strength on my part? doubt it. a crappy skate? no way - K2’s are the bomb. i blame it on my own negligence, i.e. leaving my skates in a hot car for a couple months. fyi: the Austin Shoe Hospital is awesome.
I decided to take my reborn skates to the Veloway for a test drive. It was my second and probably last trip to Austin’s only haven for rollerbladers. It’s a good track, but a little out of the way. The skates feel good, and I’m more excited than ever to do some city skating in London. I did learn, however, that I am extremely squeemish when it comes to other people’s blood and physical pain. I have a scar on my knee that I earned on a skate back at UIUC, doing sprints by the soccer field waiting for the other players to arrive. My flesh wound? Ain’t no thang - I wrapped a bandana around it and played on (sounds hardcore, but I squealed like a baby when I had to clean it after the game). But other people’s war wounds make me utterly nauseous! I didn’t expect this emotion, and I’m a tiny bit ashamed of myself. What’s the deal with that?
Tomorrow is my last stand at the Parlor. I’m sad but also kind of, well, relieved. It’s really hard to achieve my fitness goals when all my friends keep inviting me out for pizza and beer. But at the same time, I hate giving up my vices. Quitting smoking wasn’t so bad because everyone encouraged it and I knew how beneficial my quit would be in every aspect of my life. When it comes to living like an athlete, I don’t know what the trade off is, so it’s hard to make the sacrifice. Yes the trade off is a killer body and a longer healthier happier life. But why doesn’t that motivate me as much as the lure of happy hour? One is permanent, the other is temporary. This should be easy, and yet it stresses me out more than the move overseas. I think the key is this: i love beer, and i love my friends, and i love both especially when paired together. There’s not a damn thing wrong with that. However, I don’t want to feel like I have excessive tummy matter and a flat bottom anymore. So giving up beer isn’t like quitting smoking (a mindset I’ve wrongly embraced) - it’s not permanent. I’ve just gotta be strong enough to back off the beer and the pizza until my body’s a lean mean calorie burning machine. THEN I will be able to afford such luxuries. It’s all easier said than done. I hope this move to london provides me with a chance to really change some things about myself that have been bugging me for a long time. I think I stopped feeling good about myself for a while there, and that’s no good.
Must learn self control - stat!
Related posts:
0 Responses to “too hot for love”