Except for a ton of walking, I didn't exercise at all while I was gone. I tried to moderate my intake, but as the week went on, I slowly got worse and worse. This is a group that pops the first beer in the afternoon and the evenings are long and drink-y. I ate as much as I wanted at dinners, and noticed that most nights I didn't stop when I wasn't hungry any more. I was concerned that the damage would be worse.
My first stop on the way home was to get gas - and fritos - and cashews - and other salty chips. That's a familiar scenario over the years. I'm not sure what I want, so I get a little of everything. The passenger seat is covered with food. I noticed it (of course, after I bought all that crap), and allowed myself SOME of the food. I noticed that my belly was full as I was feeding myself chili cheese fritos and managed to put them far-ish away (as far away as one can put something while in a car). I threw the bags away without eating all of the yummy stuff that's so bad for me. Small success.
I haven't run in several weeks. My excuse is that it's steamy hot outside and both of the gyms I can use to work out in air conditioning have broken A/C. Poor excuse. Really, I just don't feel like doing it. I didn't bring running clothes with me camping. I guess I thought it wouldn't be possible to run. But many other people did - and so next year I'll bring running gear with me. I'm giving myself one last day off and I'll get back on the working out bandwagon tomorrow. The clothes are packed already.
Here's a picture of me taken Friday. The group I was camping with is a medieval reenactment crowd, so I'm dressed in a faux middle ages thing, wearing a red sash as a chirurgeon (first aid person) waiting for a battle to start.
Peace y'all!
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