My Chocolate Awakening

As I started running I realized the feeling within me was excitement. I was excited that I was starting my day off right. I was proud that I had the motivation and energy to get out of bed and start my exercise regiment. It doesn’t happen often that I can say I have motivation, which is where the excitement comes in.

As I continued to run though, my excitement was soon abated and bewilderment took over. When I run I think of various things; everything from my children to my most recent acknowledgement of my lack of ambition. But today my thoughts turned to chocolate. Now this is certainly not out of the ordinary. My thoughts, dreams, and most of my daily cravings, or should I say, hourly cravings are all about chocolate. And not the supposed “good” kind of chocolate like dark chocolate, but the milky smooth, melt in your mouth chocolate. Now there are some who declare they aren’t chocolate lovers, however, I can guarantee they are mostly Americans, for there is nothing more dissatisfying then the waxy chocolate wannabe’s. It is the European chocolate I am talking about. I have had everything from the Danish to the Swedish, from the German to the English. It is glorious, and until you have tasted the European delectable treat you cannot say you have truly lived.

However, it wasn't until I was running up one of the many steep and exhausting hills when I realized the pain I was currently suffering was for one thing and one thing only. Chocolate. This vexatious run was only benefiting that single bar of chocolate that I consume everyday. No weight will be lost, only the few small calories to make up for the habituate. It was this reflection that made me for the first time ever hate my once beloved coco-devotion. Are those few squares really worth it? Are these extra pounds worth keeping on? After the run, my body was filled with pain, sweat, and agony and it was then that I came to this conclusion. No. No, it isn’t worth it. No, these saddle bags aren’t worth keeping. No this “full” round bottom isn’t worth retaining. No this floppy midriff isn’t worth “hanging” on to.

So the rumination has occurred and the resolution has been made. No more chocolate. I will never deny myself the occasional treat, but the chocolate bars must go. The iniquitous treat must desist and I must claim back my initial reasons for running in the first place. Not for the chocolate bar that afternoon, but for my health, my sanity, and my pre-pregnancy figure. My run will no longer be in vain, but for my vanity; for my love of life not for my love of chocolate.