If you read this blog, you know I took a trip at the end of summer. I did really well with managing my sugar addiction until about a week (or a weak) after I got home. I am not amused by the fall into grazing, but I’m a bit amused by the play on words.
The thing about falls, though, is they don’t have to last a long time. You can get up again, or the season changes. For example, when we were in Wyoming, the leaves were starting to turn yellow and fall. Since we left, they’ve had snow in the mountains and expect snow this weekend on the high plains where our daughter and son in law live. Yes it’s not so much fall anymore. It’s beginning to look a lot like winter. And it’s September.
But the thing with my fall after the trip, is that I got up again. Fairly quickly, even though it wasn’t immediate. (Well, I meaned I ate a lot between meals, first). This morning, after having thought about it for a couple of weeks, I dressed in running clothes, laced on my sneakers and went for a run. I ran the first mile and a half to where the sidewalk ends. Because I wanted to look at a giant bird a little closer, I slowed down to a walk and stepped off the sidewalk to see a great blue heron sitting on a dock sunning itself. I walk and ran the mile and a half back to my car and kept my overall pace under a 13 minute mile. I call that fall a prelude to winner.
Upon my return home, I could see that the seed bread I’d started before my run had risen over the edge of the mixing bowl. It didn’t fall. I punched it down and set it to loaf. No running over for that dough. Whoever eats it will feel like a winner based on the reactions to previous loaves of this hearty seed, nut, and oatmeal bread. I used to eat it toasted with butter. I still enjoy the memory of it paired with two perfectly fried eggs for breakfast. I know, from experience, that a memory is much safer for me than actually eating it anymore. It’s a little hard to comprehend. But I’ll just say, for me, eating that bread is a prelude to a plummet. And I’m not talking about jam. Well, maybe I am. Jammed senses ripe for an addiction binge.
I’m in the midst of baking biscotti for my father-in-law’s birthday. He’s 86 today and he enjoys eating biscotti. I enjoy making it. I’d call that a prelude to win-win.
There’s the timer. I must be running along. Some of this post is a bit of a stretch, but that’s okay. It pairs well with running.