I would have just completed a long tempo run. That translates to another round with Burger King, but with some changes.
In the name of science, I switched from fries to onion rings, and consumed a Whopper instead of a Whopper Jr. I suspect the difficulty I had with my previous BK training might have been the fries. If I regret it later, next time I’ll remove the onion rings. After that, a chicken sandwich with onion rings and fries, and so on and so forth. Mr. Wizard would be proud.
The reason I insist on eating fast food isn’t to calm cravings or to “reward” myself for eating a lot of brown rice, beans and broccoli all week. It’s that I don’t want to be a delicate eater. If I’m out on the road in the middle of the country, starving, and the only eating option is fast food, I want to be able to eat. And enjoy it, without repercussions. And who knows; maybe Wendy’s will stage a coup and take over the government, nationalizing the food industry. If that happens, I’ll be ready.
On the flip side, the vegetarians could take over. I’ll be ready for that too. If they do, I’m sure when driving late at night, starving, I’ll see a Chickpea Hut and think “Ooh! Veggie pilaf! Super!”
On a running note, everything feels fine after my effort yesterday. The “edge” – and no, I can’t seem to write “edge” without quotes – was really definitive, like a wall. I could run with minor discomfort (effort-wise, not feet-wise) at a consistent pace, but if I pushed it a little I really felt it. I was a little out of breath at the end, but otherwise felt fine.
Afterward, a lady actually touched my feet. Someone wanted to take a picture of my soles (for their scrapbook, maybe). As I was posing, like the pro that I am, a lady nearby sidled up next to me and touched the bottom of my foot. I felt so violated. “Unhand me, you brute!” I squealed. Actually, I just thought “Huh. That would have really tickled before.” She said she couldn’t help herself.
Hope Iris isn’t mad.
Next week consists of two ten-milers and a seven-miler. Unless it doesn’t.