Monday night was a night of indulgence in my house. My husband cooked steaks — pink-centered filets encrusted with ground peppercorns. I roasted Brussel sprouts glazed in balsamic vinegar and maple syrup, and we cooked lemony angel hair pasta.
We rarely go out for such a meal anymore because my husband has perfected the filets here at home. He makes this red wine reduction sauce with mushrooms that pairs perfectly with a glass of red wine. It’s all part of the indulgence.
And I gave in. I gave in knowing that I would enjoy a cocktail out with friends the following night to toast a friend turning 40. Did I mention I lamented the end of the weekend Sunday night with a glass of wine?
Yep: I broke my own rule (only two drinks per week) so early in the week. But the foodie in me just had to do it. I told myself it was OK because it was for the greater good of the amazing meal we made together on a hectic Monday. It was just a little white lie I told myself: Enjoy. Indulge. I chose to believe that just a small indulgence was OK, even if I knew I was lying to myself. For that moment, it was true and good.
I’ve given in to a voice like that before — during a bad run, on a bad day, or anytime I’m feeling vulnerable. It’s the voice that says I should just quit when a run is not going well or when something at work is not going my way. That negative voice can creep in so easily and twist my mood with the slightest hint of failure.
When I’m running is when it’s the loudest. In the past, the voice makes excuses as to why I shouldn’t run as far or why I’m feeling slow and sluggish. I believe its excuses — giving in to the voice — to avoid feeling like I’ve failed.
I’ve learned, though, being consistent can help silence that negative voice. I can chalk a bad run up to a bad day — because bad days happen — and know that tomorrow will be better, even if it’s only slight.
I let that little voice inside my head dictate too many decisions. More often than not, it’s just the build up of excuses: I’m not fast enough or strong enough; I’m too tired; it’s harder than what I’m ready to take on; I won’t like making a change; I don’t have time.
They are little white lies I’ve chosen to believe and I’ve allowed them to hold me back. I’m ready to quiet that voice. I think this is one of the changes I see happening while I’m making it daily.
As for the other voice — the indulgent one — I’ll gladly listen to what it says any old day. It’s a voice that learned the art of indulgence living in New Orleans. She knows there’s logic and goodness to be had in enjoying a good meal served with the right drink — and the labor of such should be savored, even if it breaks a rule every now and again.