Why I Love Breakfast

Today’s Run

Time – 1:01:41
Distance – 5.89 miles
Pace – 10:29 min/mi
Elevation – 194 ft.

IMG_1018

Went out late today for a run as I got back from work a little behind schedule. It was a long day, to say the least, and I was really looking forward to my run. I decided that by hook or crook, I was going out running. As soon as I left, I knew this would be a run that was a “don’t-stare-at-the-watch” kind of day. So I just ran. And ran. And ran. 5.9 miles and a little over an hour later, and I was done, although I didn’t want to be.

Today is the day that I figured out that I can do this Western States thing. I know that it’s not some life-altering event to run just under 6 miles, but I felt good, I enjoyed every bit of it, and I realized that, with the right training and an adequate amount of time, I’m going to be able to do it. This is 100-mile run is going to happen.

Breakfast is the most “looked forward to” meal of the day

Is it strange to get to the end of the day, after dinner and the evening treat, and realize that you’re looking forward to eating breakfast the next morning? I’ve gotten to be like that now. Every evening I get excited about waking up and eating again. I’m not hungry when this happens. I don’t have a specific craving, per se (although I’ve been hitting the granola and Greek yogurt pretty hard as of late). I’m just amped about waking up, hitting the button on the coffee maker, and sitting with a book on the iPad in the morning and a solid breakfast. Usually it’s the Greek yogurt and Bob’s Red Mill granola or the Coconut Granola from Trader Joe’s, an apple, and a cup of coffee. Sometimes I make crepes with oat flour and brown rice flour (see recipe here), which I cover in a thin layer of Justin’s hazelnut chocolate butter. Mmm…so good.

I guess the weirdness really is that I think about these things at 9:30 at night, just about 90 minutes after dinner. It’s what gets me up in the morning. I’ve reached a point now where food has a special place because it is special. It’s not just stuffing my face with whatever garbage I would come across. Or hitting the Starbucks for a cookie and a Frappuccino at all hours of the day or night. Food, now, has a meaning. It’s fuel for the run. It’s the kind of stuff that doesn’t make my head hurt, or mess with my heart, or make my body tire and sore and break down.

Food can be good, it can be medicine, it can make me a better person physically, mentally, and emotionally. I don’t get as moody, the wife tells me. I have a clear head all day long, and I can tell when I get a hold of something that’s not good because I fog up almost instantly. And, most importantly, I don’t have weird pains, or aches, or acne (in my late–30’s, even!), or a layer of fat around my heart, lungs, and organs. I’m not slowly constricting the blood flow to all the parts of me, or stealing the few nutrients I was getting to give to layers of fat cells around my waist.

Food can be great for you if the food going in you is great. I think that’s what I’m looking forward to everyday.

And to think that breakfast used to consist of two Pop-Tarts and a liter of Mountain Dew. Ah, to be 22 again and able to eat anything…

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