Reverberating Miracle Pudding

When I run, I bear a striking resemblance to a reverberating pudding. I possess a thick, wobbling heft that religiously obeys the bounciest laws of physics with each weighty stride. Most of the time, I feel bad about this. I have visions of a younger self, slimmer, with less percussive footfalls. I have fantasies of a future self, so lean and bendy that when people see me, visions of gazelles involuntarily prance through their heads. Past and future look so good! The present is just depressing.

Part of making sustainable changes means doing some hard re-thinking work. I need to re-think what I can realistically achieve in my future. I need to re-think how I view myself in the present. Stopping myself mid-wallow and re-directing my thoughts toward a positive, productive place is impossible most of the time. But every once in a while, I can do it.

It's unrealistic to become a lithe piece of jerky any time soon; but, I feel like I am well on my way to achieving the status of flan -- still in the pudding genre, but more solid, requiring a firmer shake to elicit a wobble.

From pudding to flan! And why not dream big? Maybe within a year ... mochi status! (Still a bit of squish, but damn tasty.)

I may be a pudding in the present, but I'm a pudding that is running a marathon in four days. That's amazing! How many puddings can do that? I'm like some sort of miracle pudding! Woo!