Let’s put aside that it’s two weeks before Christmas and no wrapping has begun.
Forget that with a family of six and a fur family of five, life leans toward the chaotic.
Never mind that due to construction, we are short three rooms and squashed tighter than the stereotypical sardines.
I place all the blame for my lack of time and energy on one thing and one thing only: wrestling season.
I previously believed football to be the most intense and busiest of all the sports seasons. Well, wrestling accepted that challenge and beat football to a bloody pulp. Two wrestlers just add to the overall pile o’ crazy.
So, of course, that means no time for workouts, right?
It means I require extra sessions and extra intensity just to maintain a teeny slice of sanity and a moderately clear head. Especially because I have consistently failed to plan for the regular 3+ hours we spend on bleachers every weekend (this Sunday, it was closer to eight hours). As in, I have been snacking incessantly at the concession stands. Ew.
Now we all know by now that we canNOT outexercise a poor diet. I swear, the rest of the week (other than last night’s Extreme Pig Out with Hubby) is pretty good. I’m a fairly devout Paleo girl and very faithful Shakeology consumer. Yet every weekend I seem to be caught off guard by the length of the matches and how many mealtimes they will cover.
This weekend – I’m gonna go prepared. I’m determined. I’m putting it out there in cyberspace. Which means, of course, that I just might remember come Sunday morning. Maybe.
Feel free to email, text, comment, post, and tweet me until the proverbial cows come home in order to remind me. I prefer to shred, to lean, to do whatever the opposite of fatten up may be. I cannot do that with a hot dog in my mouth and Swedish Fish in my hand. I will not attain any goals whilst double fisting Snickers and soft pretzels, washing them down with Diet Pepsi (not even Diet Coke!).
But, as my snide older sister chose to remind me just a few weeks ago, no excuse is valid. If I’m gonna preach it, I’d better be livin’ it. So ready the coolers, Hubby, and be prepared to sneak that food into every gymnasium we enter (technically, no food is permitted, but we’ve only been top one that actually enforces the rule). Paleo is as Paleo does.
That’s what this mama is always tellin’ you.