Inner Curmudgeon, Redeemed

6:50 am When the alarm goes off I linger longer than usual, contemplating how to justify skipping today's workout. It's meant to be a high-intensity day with weightlifting sandwiched between jogs to and from the gym.

The bed seems to have a magnetic lock on my body, but after ten minutes of creative contemplation I struggle out. I've reached a compromise-I'll do an abbreviated workout in the home gym. I'm short on sleep (too much blogging!), and my immune system is in overdrive fending off the virus sweeping through my children's school.

By four minutes on the elliptical, I'm ready to throw in the towel, but I remember my rule. No decisions to abandon the effort until I've reached ten minutes. This gives enough time for a few endorphins to trickle into my psyche. And guess what, by ten minutes, I'm engrossed in People magazine's "Half Their Size" feature, my blood has begun to flow, and I make my target of 20 minutes warm up.

Nevertheless, my inner curmudgeon perks up again when I face the weights, and again I compromise. I'll do two sets per body part rather than three. Later in the day I'll feel good about my decision to take it easy when my daughter comes home from school with the trendy virus. My immune system was busy this morning, and I listened.

8:30 am - I eat my usual oatmeal breakfast with the last bits of my son's cereal. I wasn't super hungry when I spotted his leftovers, but somehow a few extra calories seemed a good idea to carry me through until lunch .

12:45 It worked. I had a productive morning, undistracted by severe hunger pangs. I enjoy my usual vegetarian lunch at Peasant Pies.

2:30 pm. I'm on a call and starving. I'm booked through until 4:00 pm, so no time for a snack. How will I make it?? But miraculously, by 4:00 my heart is still beating and my hunger is hibernating. Its' 4:30 before I manage to eat my Zen bakery raisin bun, toasted, with string cheese, with a couple of tall glasses of water. My body sighs contented relief.

7:15 pm I'm very hungry again. A few sips of an Italian red ease my way into dinner. It's my leftover organic lasagna-like creation, and a garlic spiked salad (to ward off the evil virus) I was out of whole wheat lasagna noodles, so whole wheat penne and those little spirals fill in (no need to pre-cook). A couple jars of spaghetti sauce, a can of diced tomatoes, cottage cheese (instead of ricotta), a few sliced zucchini and some cannelini beans, topped with Parmesan and Cheddar. Yum, even the third night, and I didn't have to cook!

The wine is an indulgent addition to a Tuesday evening. Somehow the whole affair, in spite of my son's low blood sugar moans, seems more civilized with a long stemmed glass on the table. Particularly as I almost always end up abandoning the last sips. I feel so French.

As I'm on an indulgent roll, I pour one and then another mini bowl of cereal. The second is eaten with my very tired son in my lap. Something about cuddling him precludes any mental ministrations on the virtue of my consumption. I finish full, and contented.