My only goal for March is to eat clean this week leading up to my last race of Running Season on Sunday. This is my first time eating clean and I thought I’d prepared myself well in recent weeks by eating better.
I’d made myself used to eating a healthy breakfast (greek yogurt, granola, berries). I’d gotten out of the habit of driving through and into the habit of grab-and-go (portions based on calories, lean meats, healthy fats, low dairy). I’d been eating lighter at night and drinking more water. I felt ready.
Right up until the challenge started when I rolled out of bed on another manic Monday. Everyone says the key to success with clean eating is planning ahead and being prepared. But I’m a planning, prepared Mr. Hyde at work, which makes me a disorganized, procrastinating Dr. Jekyll at home. Monday mornings for me include digging last weeks dirty clothes out of my yoga bag (“I swear this is the week I’ll do laundry.”) and reloading it with running gear (“Did I remember the headphones, because this whole plan is show without those.”); packing up my laptop, binders, and files, from all the work I was supposed to have caught up on over the weekend; debating about how necessary a shower really is (“WHERE is my sock-bun sock?!?”); checking the weather pre-shower (turns out it was necessary), post-shower, and mid-makeup to make sure the cardigan/blazer decision cuts in my favor to avoid the seemingly unavoidable shivering/sweating in morning meetings; throwing together a healthy breakfast (scoop of this, scoop of that, sprinkle of those . . . are we SURE frappucinos are on the Don’t List?); grabbing Sunday-night leftovers if they were healthy, succumbing to the omnipresent chicken salad if they weren’t, and heading out the door.
Then coming back for my sunglasses.
Then coming back for my keys.
Then coming back for a hair-tie.
The point is – already on Monday mornings I’m loaded-down like Juan Valdez and his trusty burro headed to market. What I really don’t need are umpteen more tiny ziploc tupperwares (sorry if that dilutes your marketing Ziplock and Tupperware. That’s what you get for becoming household names and making the same product) to wrangle into not-the-work-bag, not-the-workout-bag, not-the-handbag, but the OTHER bag.
Ugh, the logistics were a lot.