I cannot remember a time I did not love biking. I was one of those kids who wanted to grow up to be Lance Armstrong and, yes, I even wanted to do the Tour de France… till I tried biking from my little hamlet to the park just inside the city. At that point I started to have lesser goals, like biking to work, or getting small amounts of groceries and doing day trips on a level grade…
When I was pulled off my bike by my sweetheart of a dog during her bike training this spring, another cyclist stopped by as I was being loaded into the ambulance to remind me to get back on it, not to give it up. I told him off the cuff, I have epilsepy from going head over heels at age six from a bike and nearly lost my tongue – if I didn’t stop then, I wasn’t going to stop now. I have been back on my bike for a bit now, but this week was the one I returned to the full range I used to roam. Two days I biked to morning mass, and today I had the fun and easy ride down to the adoration chapel. Its pretty much downhill, so while its a longer distance I knew I could do it. I timed it so my husband would pick me up on his way home from work, I know I’m not ready for the return trip just yet. It feels very good to be on it.
But I know, no amount of cycling will compensate for poor eating. Last year, God gave me the gift of working with a nutritionist, and I lost a lot of weight. It required very few changes – no heavy carbohydrates (breads, potatoes etc.) after three, protien at every meal, dessert really only once a week – and consistency. That last one was a doozy. Everything in life yields to consistent pressure. To stay consistent, I need to track my food. A mental log just isn’t the same, I need to put it either on paper or some electronic counter. I just can’t seem to get started.
My body is a Temple of the Holy Spirit, not a garbage dump, not a storage facility.
Obviously, I’ve got a lot of praying to do. God has a plan, time for me to find it.
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