fat lament

I'm missing the biggest slimming event of the year.

While other Singaporeans are shedding pounts running 21km, I'll be gorging myself on pho and other yummy food in Vietnam, packing on the pounds. This is the great conservation of fats theory.

I felt guilty about not running the marathon, so yesterday I decided to go run on the treadmill. That's when I realised that for the first time, I can feel my belly flopping up and down with each step. Over the years I've watched my belly go from 8-pack to 6-pack to 2-pack to family pack and now, officially, spare tyre! I must be hitting middle age early :(

The problem is that no marathon means no reason to train, which means no motivation to run; which means get fatter and fatter. And I'm not particularly the most self-disciplined person when it comes to running either.

A casual observer would probably have wondered why yesterday, almost in mid-stride, I hit the stop button and abandoned the treadmill. I hadn't even hit 4km yet. But the truth was, I was just overwhelmed by the thoughts of the pork chop I was going to have after the run, and after a while I just lost patience with the run. Running is boring.

But to be fair to the pork chop, that was at least half my motivation for going to the gym anyway, so I shouldn't really blame him. And he totally lived up to my expectations. I should go to the gym more often!