Pain and Agony

I've always liked food.  You can look at me and say, "that boy likes to eat!"  I'm ok with that.  I blame it on my mom and my grandma.  My house was a "clean plate" house.  If it was on the table to eat, some went on your plate, and you had to eat it.  Nothing got left.  That's where it all began.  

My grandma's involvement comes in with weekly trips to McDonalds.  Gram didn't drive.  So, naturally, my mom and us kids would take her out each week to the grocery store, mall, or wherever she needed to go.  In the process of those excursions, we would hit McDonalds.  I remember one trip in particular.  I was probably 12 or 13 at the time.  As we were ordering I remember Gram saying, "don't you need another sandwich--you are a growing boy!"  It was all downhill from there.  She gave me the "excuse" to double order.  I've been living that life ever since.

Unfortunately, my love for food has been transferred on to my wife and daughter.  You ask us what is good anywhere we've been and we can tell you where to eat.  Grand Rapids?  Arnies on 28th Street.  Chicago?  Giordanos.  Williamsburg, VA?  Chik-fil-a or Che Burger Che Burger.  We are a sad, sad family.

Recently, it has seemed like I can't stop shoving anything and everything down my throat.  I've become very conscious of it.  It has made me loath myself a little...yet I haven't been able to keep my mouth shut.  Shocker.  It prompted me to get on the scale the other day at home.  I don't normally do for two reasons.  One, the scale at home only registers to 270.  So, since I'm above that, it is really just a guesstimation of my weight.  Two, I don't want to know.  If I don't know, I don't have to think about it.  Right?

Needless to say, I got on the scale at home and greatly exceeded the limits of the scale.  What I guesstimated really freaked me out a little.  When I went to the office I visited the doctor's scale that our First Place ministry has.  While I was pleasantly surprised that my actual weight was lower than my guesstimation, I was still heavy. . .very heavy.  If my weight were a batting average, I'd be doing good.

That was Monday.  I was angry Monday.  I was frustrated with myself Monday.  So, I dealt with it.  I had some pulled pork from Backyard Barbecue.  It was stellar!  Monday was not a good day.

Yesterday morning, I woke up thinking that Hannah was crying.  I peeked into her room, saw she was fine and then mentally debated whether I was going to go back to bed or just head to the office.  Instantly, my mind remembered the day before and I had the thought, "you should exercise!?"  I had flashbacks of my run in with the treadmill.  But, then I thought about how unhappy I was with myself the day before.  I grabbed some clothes and headed to the office.

Now, I'm not going to share the gory details of my exercise.  It wasn't pretty.  It involved walking and running round and round and round our sanctinasium at church.  It was way early in the day so no one had to witness it, thank God!  I almost died at least 3 times in the walking and running.  But, as I got close to the end, I began to feel good and loose.  It was something I didn't expect.  It was a good feeling. . . but it didn't last long.

Afterwords, I sat down at my desk and began working.  I didn't move from my chair for a few hours.  I was in the zone, so to speak . . . and I had already made coffee, so it was an easy chair roll to the right to refill my cup!  However, when I went to get up to go to the copier or talk to Melissa, our office assistant, I was greeted with major muscle pain in my legs.  I almost couldn't get out of my chair.  Stupid exercise.

So, if you were to see me today, you would see me get up from where I am sitting and walk like a 90 year old (no offense to 90 year olds) for about the first four or five steps until the pain and agony fades from wicked horrible to somewhat horrible.  Hopefully, you won't see me.  But if you do, please suppress the urge to laugh out loud at least for 10 or 20 seconds, until I get moving almost like normal.  I would greatly appreciate it.

And, pray for my soul tomorrow as I take on round number two of the walking and running round and round and round the sanctinasium at church.  I'm sure I'll be yelling at God as I run for making food so good.