Father Knows Best.

For those who still read the blogs from time to time...

I have been doing my best to keep up the change in my nutritional content since I started training for Chicago. Like most, it is a battle everyday. Some days, it is a war. Others...I just fall to the floor and play dead until the guilt drifts past me. This weekend was one of the 'roll over and play dead' weekends.
My journey lasts about two hours. During that time, I am usually station-hopping on the radio to find a familiar song. Sometimes I will catch a preacher giving a sermon. Most days, I am aware that I need spiritual rejuvenation, so I listen with an open mind and heart. In recents months I feel that I am getting better at praying and having a relationship with God. So much so, that I find myself trying to justify things that I have yet to do but merely thought of...like getting a pint of ice cream once I reach the store on base. I fought with God, telling him that I would run Saturday afternoon and that I would eat moderately the whole weekend to make up for it. He said "No". What young (young in faith) child listens to their Father all the time?
Fastforward to Saturday evening. I ate modestly all day. I even ran the 'Random' option on the treadmill - not realizing that it had a good number of hills at a pretty steep incline. I didn't complain or change it; I ran the course and finished. I even did some weights. By the time I had finished my 'modest' dinner, I had made up my mind that I was going to get some ice cream at the store. (Mind you, I am lactose intolerant...but I love some ice cream. Especially the different flavored kinds like the Ben&Jerry's.)
I returned to my barracks room with my ice cream in tow and decided that I would wait on taking my shower right away and do my laundry first. (It's about 10 degrees colder in Meridian, so I figured since I was already adjusted to the cold, I'd wait before warming myself in the shower.) The barracks are actually guest accomodations - much like hotel rooms. The doors have electronic key cards. I had already started my load of laundry when I began to indulge myself while watching T.V.. A fourth of the way into my pint, I realize it's time to dry my clothes. I set down my ice cream, grab my key card and shove it in my pocket and head to the laundry room. While making the switch, a fellow Sailor shows up to do his laundry. We chat, he walks me down the hall and departs in the opposite direction of me. Rounding the corner, I retrieve my card and notice my ATM card was in my pocket too. 'Geez, I hope it didn't demagnitize my keycard. I reach my door - wet 'hang-dry' items in hand - and insert my card. Red light. 'Okay. Try again.' Swipe. Red light. 'Whattayamean RED LIGHT!?' Swipe. Swipe,swipe, swipe. 'I have ice cream in there waiting on me!' (The flavor was Chocolate Covered Cherries)
To make a lllloooooonnngggg story much shorter, I spent the first five minutes searching for a warm body that owned a car to take me to the billeting office to redo my key. I then spent the next hour going back and forth to the billeting office because none of the keys they gave me worked. Not even their master keycard. Did I mention that I had the heater on at 72 degrees, nice and toasty. It was during the manic tennis match of my room and the billeting office, with me as the ball, that I began to get the notion that something THIS extreme is rarely heard of. I am convinced that divine intervention kept my door locked so I couldn't finish that ice cream.
I was given another room down the corridor. Tired and annoyed, I had to wait another hour before I could sleep because when I had put my clothes in the dryer, I forgot to push the start button. An hour later I decided to go ahead and take a shower since, on the bright side, I had clean underwear...my Mother would have been proud. I finally got to bed around 11:30 p.m. A crank call from some pervert woke me at midnight. And then the billeting office called a 2 a.m. to tell me the maitenance guy was at my room now fixing the door and that he would let me in if I wanted to sleep in there. Groggily, I made my way to the original room. The red light came on for him too. He tried a few times with the same lights flashing and then... the door opened. I thanked him as he left and laid eyes on the foam content of the pint carton. 5 hours later. Had I gotten in there sooner, I probably would have tried to salvage the dessert by shoving it in the freezer like a fool. Oh well. I was good while it lasted.
So, the moral of this story...
Listen to your Father.