Sugar ingestion, in the car: two misdemeanors.
An 8.2-mile walk instead of the usual weekday 4- or 5.5-mile loop. (I do the really long walk on Saturday, as a rule.)
The real punishment?
Being too wiped out to do anything the rest of the day.
The big question is why I think I need to punish myself for the sugar slip. I've been trying to be pretty matter-of-fact about this
I have to scale one long, steep, curving hill just before my two-mile turnaround. When I first moved here [and was in terrific condition], I could run up that hill and still be able to breathe normally. When I'm in a running mood [not yesterday!], I challenge myself by adding a few more running steps each time. Eventually, I'll be able to get to the crest without stopping.
Yesterday as I was trudging up it, reserving my energy because I did, after all, have about six more miles to go, I realized I won't be able to run up that hill until I lose a lot more weight. I'm simply asking my body to do too much.
So there's one little almost-daily self-beating I can eliminate from my routine.
I guess walking eight miles and then expecting to be able to mop the floor or mow the lawn or weed the perennial beds was probably asking for too much, too.
So the reward?
I took a shower, sat in my new chair and knit all afternoon.