Ah, June… Summer is at our doorstep, the days are (almost all of them) seeming to get a little bit longer, and for the second year in a row I am partaking in my daily blogging exercise, marginally focused along a theme I’ve simply called Those 30 posts in June. No planning. No writing stuff days ahead. Just this: each day a meanderingly vague prompt drives a meanderingly vague post… and today that post just happens to be:
June 15th // Something You Are Craving
I kinda hate to admit it, but having pretty much given up most (obvious) liquid calories and made a concerted effort to avoid refined sugars for the past three months, the thing I most miss — amongst the heaps of cakes, ice creams, cookies, candies, and chocolates — is a slurpee.
This has been the first summer in — well — the duration of my conscious life, when the arrival of sun, and heat, and longer days has NOT meant a wander over to the local convenience store for a litre of frozen, flavoured, sugar water known by a variety of trademarked names — slurpee, slushie, froster, squishee, etc — but generically as a delicious and thirst-quenching slush.
Insert a dejected, self-torturing, sucks-to-be-a-grown-up sigh here.
And what else can I add about that? I’m craving — craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaving — a slush right now. I mean, it’s not like they are overflowing with calories. It’s not like they are the worst thing I could be drinking. But there is a certain symbolism that bridges the perceptive gap between sugar water and fitness, and that bridge has a toll I’m not willing to pay — at least not right now and not regularly.
The problem is this: I have two stores within walking distance of my home, and to make matters worse when the other day I walked over to the downtown grocery store where I’ve been buying my apples I noticed there — across the street — a brand new 7-11 is under construction in a small business complex. Three blocks from my office will soon be copious temptation.
Sometimes life is just pesky like that.
Now, I could go on for pages about the injustice of this, but (a) this would turn me into a bit of a middle class whiner, and (b) it’s my own self-imposed pain here. Nothing is stopping me except some kind of random, willpower-based guilt. So instead this: I’m just going to state publicly, and for the record, that I’m going to provide myself with a simple struggle-versus-reward system. From now on, following any actual race I run, I’m allowing myself a reward for my efforts: a slurpee. Fair, no?
Or maybe just convoluted… whatever.