My Wife Hates Me.

I have a problem, and I'm getting absolutely no sympathy at home. In fact, my problem is being received with thinly veiled hostility. As I mentioned in this post, I'm running again. It's only two days a week and I'm only running half a hour at a time. In a week I only cover between 6 and 7 miles. Using a calorie estimator here I'm burning a maximum of 784 calories a week running. Really though, if you subtract off the calories that I'd burn anyway just because I'm alive during that hour, I burn 661 calories that I wouldn't have burned if I just laid around and watched the birds fly by instead of running. That's less than 100 calories a day. That's 15 of the wonderful cocoa covered almonds that I eat for a snack after running. Except I eat about 50 of them. And an apple. And a banana. And beef jerky. And then an hour later I eat lunch.

Half Marathon 2004. Have not repeated.

You see, my body is kind of a pain in the ass. Whenever I start running it becomes convinced that this whole running thing would be much easier if I weighed less. It's right, but it doesn't need to be so demanding about it. Whenever I start running, I have to start eating aggressively to counter my stupid body. This sounds like a great problem to have in theory, especially because my wife is really attracted to the skinny runner look and food is delicious, but my body has another annoying quirk. Whenever I my weight drops below about 150 lbs (at 5' 10" that's pretty damn skinny) it starts to recover from any physical exertion much more slowly. That means that my runs start to hurt more and my wrists hurt from lifting weights and I start to feel like an old man. I either have to stop running for a while so I can gain back some weight or I have to basically force feed myself. Running is good for me though, and I sort of enjoy it, so I'm eating half a summer sausage as I type this in the hopes that it will digest in time for me to have lunch. Blargh.
The only two places in the world that my wife would be considered overweight are a New York Fashion Week catwalk or a refugee camp. In the real world she gets dirty accusing looks from women when they find out that she has given birth four times instead of the zero times that it looks like. She's hot. But like most women in their 30's who have had multiple children, she's hot on purpose, through attention to her eating and exercise. She doesn't accidentally lose weight and complain about it like me.
Consequently, I get no sympathy for my plight at home. She doesn't see that taking seconds at dinner isn't as pleasant as it seems. Remembering to eat a snack between breakfast and lunch so I have time to digest everything is hard. When I pour a half cup of cream into the mixer and whip it up for a snack after the kids go to bed (400 calories or so) she doesn't feel bad for me. I'm pouring my heart out here on my blog because when I do it at home, my wife sort of hates me. Somebody please feel bad for me. Please?

No posting for the rest of the week. I'm going to be far away from technology, but I will return. I'll probably even get back to posting about kids or being a dad or something related to the point of this blog.