Team S.J.G.R. Thursday Huddle #15: The Workout Snackémon.

Man. I have a confession to make. Last week I fell prey to what seeks to take down well-meaning worker-outers all over the country every single day. The stealthy little saboteur that rears its ugly little head right around the same time EVERY time.

Mmmm hmmm.

Oh. You haven't met him yet? Chile, please. Every man or woman who has ever kicked their workouts into higher gear has been introduced to him. And if you haven't, it just means you haven't been working out hard enough or running far enough.

Who is he, you ask? I'll tell you. He's what I call the Workout Snackémon. 

Yes, people. He's a nasty little hater who wants to see you gain weight instead of lose weight after running a bunch of miles or doing a Zumba marathon or going Crossfit crazy. And you know what? He tapped me on my shoulder last week and whispered softly in my ear. Because, you know, that's how the Workout Snackémon rolls.

Mmmmmm hmmm.

So check it. Last weekend, I got it in, man. I mean, here I was feeling like a BAWSE after surviving a 8.3 mile run around hellaciously hilly Stone Mountain with Crystal H. last weekend. I had gotten up early and met her up there at the appointed time -- and let's be clear -- I don't even live near there. But, yes, I went and stuck with my running mate like it wasn't nothing.

Okay, well not like it wasn't nothing. But still. I stuck with her.

Anyways. I stretch with her and then get in my car feeling like THAT CHICK. I am resisting the urge to go tweet it on the mountain for all to know. So I sip my water and sing with the radio because I'm feeling all super proud of myself. And, you know? That's the furthest I've ever run in my LIFE so that was a big effing deal for me. So, yeah. I drove on home feeling great.

And when I got home, it was still early. I walk on in and Zachary and Harry are just getting ready to go to Zachary's football game. Which made me feel even more like a BAWSE since I'd actually gotten my butt up early enough to have run and come back home BEFORE his game even started.

Yeah.

So I start getting dressed so that I can drop Isaiah at a playdate and then hightail it on over to Zachary's game. And all was well mostly. Until the Workout Snackémon started brushing his lips up against my ear.

"Hey girl. You know you just ran 8 miles. Go on. Have you a couple of them Oreo cookies that you bought for the boys. Go on. Wit' yo' fine self."

And can I just say that I am usually quite disciplined when it comes to separating kid foods from Mommy foods and that something like some Oreos are generally easy for me to refuse. Because usually the dialogue in my head is stern and realistic. So yeah, an Oreo cookie? That's a no.

Usually.

"Come on, girl. You know you fine. Look at you in them compression capri pants looking all fine. You ran 8 miles. EIGHT POINT THREE miles, actually. Eat you one cookie. Matter fact, eat two. And go on. Eat that hot dog that Isaiah thought he wanted but changed his mind about. You know ain't nothing better than a ol' juicy Hebrew National. Go on, girl."

And I need you to know that the Workout Snackémon talks like Billy Dee Williams talked to Diana Ross in Mahogany. All smooth and sultry-like. And how can you say no to that? How can you?

"Hey girl."

So you know what happened? I ate three Oreos with a cup of soy milk. Then I ate a hot dog. A HOT DOG! And damn, it was good, that hot dog. But a HOT DOG, y'all. A hot dog. Ugggghhh! It's all The Workout Snackémon's fault. It is!

So I drop Isaiah off with his buddy. Then I head up to the game. But my mouth felt parched. It did.

"Hey girl. You don't want that water. You just ran 8 miles. 8 freakin' hilly miles, babygirl. Look at you with yo' fine self in those jeans. You look good, girl. And you 43, too? Go on and get you one of them big azz electrolyte drinks. Go on. I know that one bottle has four servings. But you have to be dehydrated from running that far. With yo' fine self."

Sigh.

So I stop up in QT and come out with this gigantic blue Powerade. Which I commence to drink up. And me? I try not to EVER drink my calories. But the Workout Snackémon had me thinking I deserved them and could easily handle them.

Yep.

And you know? That happened two or three more times that same day. It did.

Now. Let me tell you. The Workout Snackémon is the reason why you see significantly overweight people running marathons and long distance races. He is the one that tells you to eat a big plate of pancakes after that run or a ginormous burger on a patio after that race. He tricks you with that voice. Woos you. Lulls you.

And oh, yeah. Did I mention? If you prefer women, the Workout Snackémon has that soft and sexy Jessica Rabbit voice.

"Hey big daddy. Look at you with that six pack. I see it trying to bust through that last layer of insulation. I'm so impressed with that bike ride you did. Wow. And is that your bicep? Oh my. Go on, sugar. Have you a milk shake from Chik fil A. You know you deserve it. And you're a growing boy. You need to go on and order the whole number one. Those fries won't hurt you since you work out so much. With yo' buff self."

800 calories later, she turns back into a pumpkin. And so do you.

Look, people. The Workout Snackémon comes fast and furious. He comes after workouts but also after fasts, illnesses and anything else that you can imagine that might make you think you can have "just a little more" than usual.

So me? I got GOT. I ate stuff I shouldn't eat because I made a bunch of allowances due to my strenuous workouts. And I KNOW that I am not alone. I'm not.

But half way through munching on a bag of REGULAR popcorn on Sunday it hit me. I was being wooed by the Snackémon. And if I didn't stop right then and there, I'd have a few extra pounds to show for it.

Late that night, Snackémon was trying to spoon me talking about:

"Hey girl. Go on and have you a bowl of cereal before you go to bed. Girl, you know Fruit Loops can count as a carbo load. With yo' fine self."

And me, I just gave him the stiff arm and said, "Back it up, homie. You ain't getting me this time."

And, see, the Workout Snackémon doesn't like rejection so he keeps it moving when you dis him.

But know this: He (or she) always comes back. That is, if you get in a really good workout.

Have you fallen prey to the Workout Snackémon? Have you tricked yourself into high calorie alcoholic beverages, guacamole and fried tortilla chips after a really good one? Have you?

Well consider me your homegirl in the dorm who warns you about the bad guys who are only out to break your heart:

"Girl, he don't love you. He just wont one thing." (Yes, I meant to say "wont.")

Mmmm hmmmm. 

Stay strong, Team. Don't let the Workout Snackémon TAKE YOU OUT!  Remember:

We get fit in the gym. We lose weight in the kitchen. And the Snackémon is determined to try to make you forget that. But on this team, we know better. So we do better.

Plus, he don't looooove you, girl. He just wont one thing. 

Now, raise your right hand and repeat after me:

"I CANNOT"

(I cannot)

"OUTEXERCISE"

(outexercise)

"CRAPPY FOOD CHOICES."

(crappy food choices.)

"I CANNOT"

(I cannot)

"OUTRUN"

(outrun)

"A BIG BEHIND"

(a big azzzz.)

"TO DO THAT I MUST"

(to do that I must)

"PUT DOWN THE FORK WHEN I'M SATISFIED"

(put down the fork when I'm satisfied)

"AND STEP AWAY FROM THE PANTRY."

(and step away from the pantry.)

"AND THE REFRIGERATOR."

(and the refrigerator.)

"FOR REALS."

(for reals.)


Yes, people. Shit just got real. Again.

That's all I got for tonight. Holla.

***
Happy Thursday. Check in, people.