Brace yourselves people. I’m about to tell you something that you may find to be all together shocking. If I were you, I’d sit down (though, you’re probably already sitting down if you’re reading this).
On Saturday morning, I forgot to eat.
I know, I know. If you aren’t currently laying on the floor because you fell off your chair, you’re probably sitting there asking yourself, how this is possible. “Lou,” you ask out loud, “I don’t believe it. You? Not eat? What is this world coming to?” I understand that I have just shaken the foundation of everything you’ve ever known to be true. Calm down. We’ll get through this together.
Forgetting to eat is something that, in my world, just really doesn’t happen. If anything, I remember to eat more often than necessary. But on Saturday morning before my run, as I was walking in circles around my apartment at 6:45am, mentally running through the checklist of “stuff” I needed to have with me or do prior to leaving, I simply forgot to ask myself if I had eaten.
I realized after leaving the house that I was literally going to have to run on empty.
The result: WORST RUN EVER. Or at least the worst one I can remember.
I made it about three miles before throwing in the towel. The entire time my stomach was in knots. I tried desperately to turn my thoughts to something else, “Think about your arms, Lou. They’re sore. Focus on the pain in your shoulders.” But nothing worked.
Moral of the story… Never forget to eat.