Book excerpt

Thank you to the 300 gracious people who pre-ordered my book so far – I am indebted to each and every one of you! Each order feels like a private act of faith in me – I appreciate that more than you’ll ever know. Keep the pre-orders coming by posting a comment at the end of this text or emailing Lcfroese@sasktel.net – I hope to reach 500.

To celebrate, here’s a Journey to Joy excerpt from Chapter 5 – Health & Fitness. I’m happy to share something a little lighter and more humorous:

 

Chapter 5 – Health & Fitness (excerpt from Journey to Joy)

What this chapter should really be called is, ‘Damn, my pants don’t fit.’

I only threw ‘health’ into the title to appease my politically correct ‘social self.’ Let’s be real here – all I’m trying to do is lower the number on my bathroom scale and fit into the jeans that keep shrinking in the dryer (every single pair of them).

Or, I could call this chapter (despite all the official ‘health & wellness’ garbage I’ve included) ‘Belly Bustin’’ with the subtitle, ‘Because I just ate my face off during 21 days of food (and drank three batches of liquid mousse).’

Fittingly, this next set of twenty-one days started on January 1 with the annual 5K Resolution Run in the nearest city. I’ve been doing this run for a number of years with friends. I do it for all the wrong reasons. It’s not because it’s through a scenic park or that it’s a great way to start the New Year or that it’s the perfect physical launch pad for upcoming running endeavours.

It’s that I get free stuff!

And I’m talking good stuff. Not just a lame water bottle or T-shirt. We get winterized running jackets and deluxe duffle bags, so if that isn’t a good enough reason to run; I don’t know what is. And, we always go out for a scrumptious, grease-laden lunch afterwards.

While there are many lessons to be learned this month about the positive power of exercise-induced endorphins and the value of eating right, I am making a mental note here that I respond well to material bribery (and greasy bacon).

I always know that the Resolution Run will feel torturous when my alarm sounds its death knell at 5 a.m. It’s the first realization that I must drag my New Year’s Eve party-ravaged and parched body out of bed. It’s usually -40 C with the wind chill (my long johns are only guaranteed to -39 C) and I’ve typically had two full hours of sleep.

I perennially curse the day I signed up for this stupid run. I curse the ice that must be scraped from my car windows. I curse my frozen eyelashes. I curse my numb toes. But always, always I know (as is true with any running I do) that I’ll feel good afterwards. This too is bribery – adrenalin bribery.

After my break down, I take my adrenalin hits (and my free duffle bags and my bacon) whenever and wherever I can get them.