So it’s Lent.
Being that I survived eight solid years of Catholic school there is this need that grips me to give up something for 40 days.
Except this time, I really can’t.
I’ve decided to give up alcohol up to the race (thereby blaming the Winter Olympics for being tired and groggy the next morning), but the race ends two weeks before Easter. And, well, darn it, I must have my “pain killers” the day after I run a marathon.
There is also the additional strength training in my life. No more lazing in front of the computer monitor reading E! uberblog. So, at least partially by taking on strength training I am giving up needless celebrity blather… in the mornings. (Don’t worry, Brangalina, I’ve still got some evenings free.)
I AM NOT giving up chocolate. Every single one of my GU energy gels is chocolate. Chocolate helps me run. Chocolate is therapy. No giving up chocolate.
And while on the topic of food, I’m seriously not going vegan. Nothing against them, but I’m not going to try to completely restructure a diet plan this late in the game.
So I feel, at least partially, like a failed Catholic. As if the Pope will know on my arrival into Rome that I’ve not really done the good and proper Lent thing. I’m sure he’s got some roster somewhere that immigration sends him and one of his Cardinals will probably be stopping by the rented flat. Thank goodness I’m not there during a blessing, I’d be cinder.