The problem with food is...it exists

I've heard that weight loss is 90% diet and 10% exercise. If that's even remotely true, I'm in deep sugar.

It means that jogging 2-3 times a week doesn't cancel out the six-pack of Geary's or the garbage fries or the Portland Pie Harbor Master that I had for breakfast.

It means that the workouts and the sweating and the "running ugly" will never bridge the chasm between me and the skinny pants of my past.

Fine. So I'll make good food choices instead of bad ones. Apples over donut holes. How hard can that be?

But the thing is, when the good-for-you grub sits hidden amongst the lively and spirited not-so-good-for-you food, it's hard to hit the "ignore" button.

It's temptation. It's calling your name. It's like it's meant to be.

It's the same reason why milk and eggs are at the back of the grocery store: so you'll have to walk down the crazy-delicious chocolate chip cookie isle. And everyone knows you won't be able to turn those little Keebler elves down. You're a sucker.

And 27 cookies later you'll be cursing yourself and you'll be feeling awful (and a little nauseated because that's a lot of cookies you just ate) when really you should be blaming the real ruiner of life: the grocery store manager.

I mean, I don't want to point fingers or anything, but clearly it's his fault. He's had it out for you from the start. (That's right Mr.! We're on to you!)

My point is, it isn't easy to reach past the Twix and grab a banana.

Which is why the new vending machines at our office gave me such a chuckle. At first glance it all looks on the up and up.

There's a "Balanced Choices" sign inside the machine encouraging eaters to "Taste the Possibilities." Oh my, that sounds lovely!

They've taken the liberty of pointing out healthy options with a quaint green leaf. Great idea, actually. Take the guesswork out. Books like "Eat This, Not That" only prove that, on the whole, we do a crappy job of figuring out what to eat.

So I scan the machine for green leaves (ignoring the irony of the sign's proximity to a bag of Doritos).



Hmm...not there...not there...not there....Where ARE the green leaves? Oh, there's one on some Kettlecorn. Not there...not there...not there....Oh! There's another one on some pretzels! How exciting! Pretzels!

All counted, there are five green leaves in the machine. Five out of 40 (not including the gum). It's like a "Ha ha, you can't have this" machine. Hey machine - stop taunting me, man!

The other machine has some Smart Ones TV dinners - which is cool. I've seen people in the office eating them so they must be a hit. But just a smidge below those healthy alternatives...Snickers ice cream bars.

Ouch. That's going to be hard to ignore. It's so warm and spring-like out. Ice cream sounds wonderful.

I mean, I haven't had it in months. And it's not like I eat it all the time - it'll just be a Friday treat - just this once. I ran the Back Cove last night for crying out loud! I've earned it!

Stop listening to my internal monologue!

Aw, Sugar, why'd you do me like that?

Sugar is like a medieval catapult (you know, for humans).

Maybe you're having a little pow-wow to welcome some new coworkers to the office - nothing wall-splitting, just a "how do ya do, have a treat, let's get to know each other" sort of thing.

Inevitably somebody wheels in a tractor-sized people-launcher and you think, "Hey, I've been sticking to my Points Plan like a recently slapjacked military cadet, I deserve a little treat for my efforts." I mean, it's just one launch. You'll get back to the gym in the a.m. and the WW will never be the wiser.

So you climb in, eyes wide with enthusiasm, and throw out the "ready" signal (thumbs up paired with permagrin, of course).

And in an instant you're jetting high speed into the sky, weightless, cheeks rattling in the wind. Up, up, up!

But then your speed begins to wane. The once-upward angle of your flight has started to plateau. It's right about here, as your line of vision sinks from sun, to horizon, to Earth that you realize...this is going to end very, very badly.

A crash ensues. A crash you should have seen coming but you were blinded by flight.

Yea, that's what sugar's like.

Heed thy runner's commandments

So it's April. It's about as far away as I'm ever going to be from race day. Each week that passes means more running, more effort. Come July, I should be focused, serious and preparing to cross the finish line.

But like I said, it's only April. I'm just trying to get my head in the game, so to speak. The first group run has come and gone, which is a start, but as soon as I left last Thursday I knew with moderate certainty that my feet wouldn't see those shoes again for another week.

It's OK. It's only April.

But if I have any hope of not reliving last year's mess, I need to rethink my approach. No excuses about needing to spend quality time with the new couch or "precipitation and I don't mesh well."

So yesterday I perused some paperwork that was passed out at the Reach the Beacon training last week. It included some basic training information (benefits of running, dos and don'ts, breathing techniques, etc.) but it was the 'Commonsense Commandments" that caught my attention:

1. Eat breakfast
2. Get seven hours of sleep
3. Keep your weight down
4. Drink alcoholic beverages moderately
5. Exercise regularly

No time like the present to start incorporating these commandments into my daily routine. But I wouldn't attempt them all at once (too dangerous, I'd go into shock and be a risk to both myself and others...especially discourteous grocery store shoppers who absentmindedly push their carts into your ankles. It hurts. Things could get ugly. I'm just sayin').

So I'll start from the top of the list and work my way down over the next few weeks. Ease into it. Take baby steps.

So..."Eat breakfast." I can do that, see -->

Me and a 20,000-calorie coffee drink. That counts, right? Consider it my first step on the road to health. Well, not really a "step" in the physical sense - I did take the elevator.

Baby steps, people. Baby steps.

Commandment No. 1: Check.

What is this word, "moderately" anyway?