I’ve been reading a lot of articles recently about
fit overweight runners and
happy fat brides and loving yourself the way you are and
taking pride in your achievements rather than obsessing over society’s
expectations. And I think they’re great, and I feel proud and empowered and excited
to be living in a time when norms may be shifting.
And then I look at my thighs and remember how they looked a
few years ago when I was running ultramarathons. And I look at myself in the
mirror at yoga and imagine photoshopping what I see. And I plan for my next (6th?
Something insane like that) Whole30 because I cannot stay in a good place.
I’m trying to peel back the layers of what good means to me
to try to figure out why this is so freaking hard.
I have food issues. I know this. I grew up in a kosher home
where there were a lot of rules around food, what you could eat, when you could
eat it… Foods that everyone else ate were bad. I wasn’t allowed to eat a
Twinkie. I had to bring my lunch to school and eat different snacks from
everyone else. Food was entwined with values. We didn’t go out to eat as a
family, but would go out with my mom when my dad had a meeting. We ate
vegetarian, nothing overtly unkosher, but didn’t adhere to the strict
interpretations we followed in the house. I was pudgy. Not obese, but solid. I
went to Weight Watchers with my mom. Exercise was not important to my family. I
played sports in high school just to have something to put on my college
applications.
When I went to college I abandoned any pretense of keeping
kosher. My college food memories start with McNuggets and containers of mayonnaisey
seafood salad from the to-go cafeteria then move into lots and lots of noodles
and cereal and frozen yogurt. As I became my own adult, I went through
vegetarian phases. I went through vegan phases. I made up my own diets. My
favorite was the bagel and egg sandwich for breakfast, baked potato with salsa
and cottage cheese for lunch, rice, broccoli and peanut sauce for dinner
followed by frozen yogurt diet. I did that for a long time. Food was never just
food. It was good or bad. And I never really thought about how it made me feel.
I dabbled in exercise through college because it was what
everyone else was doing. I got more serious about it when I realized I was
unhappy and needed to make changes in my life and signed up for an Outward
Bound trip. This seemed to be the most extreme step this city couch potato
could take to break out of her late-twenties rut. I started running so I
wouldn’t die in the desert. I liked running. I liked the look of shock people
had when I said I was running. You? Running?
I ate more to fuel the running. I didn’t think about how
what I ate made me feel.
I met a guy. We had our brunch places. We had our lunch
places. We liked beer. We liked each other. We liked going out for fancy
dinners. We liked eating our way around the globe. He had his own food issues.
We occasionally helped each other get better. We loved each other however we
looked. We did Weight Watchers. I got a little crazy on Weight Watchers. We went paleo. We took breaks from paleo. We did Whole30s. We drank a
lot of beer. We ran together. We rode hundreds of miles on our bikes together.
We each had our own food shit. I’d often run to the bathroom mid-fancy meal
because all the rich food made me sick. It just happened and we’d joke about
it. I never thought that maybe my body was trying to tell me something. I took
a lot of pills to help me sleep and breathe and get through cramps. I
practically rattled.
Five years ago a speaker came to my office to talk about the
link between food and health. I had every ailment she mentioned as being tied
to nutrition. I listened. I got the book she referenced. I started paying
attention to how I felt and how what I ate impacted how I felt. What I’ve
learned is that I can control almost everything that is physically wrong with
me by eating the right foods. My husband does not have as tight a relationship
between his well being and his diet. But I do. I could control many of the problems
with sleeping pills and anti-inflammatories and allergy medications, or I could
just stop eating the crap that causes the problems. I know exactly what the
causes and effects are. I can go happily for months without eating the things
that make me feel shitty, then one day I’ll have a moment of anger that I can’t
be normal. I go right back to being that kid who’s upset that she can’t eat
what everyone else is eating. And I’ll eat a cookie. And I’ll cough from the
sugar. And then I’ll “try” eating a few other things over the next few days to
see if I still have problems with them because I’ve already gone off plan so
why not. And I still have problems with them, but I’ll keep pushing the
boundaries. And a few weeks will pass. And I’ll realize that I’m not sleeping.
And that I have a low-grade headache all the time. And that the big zit on my
chin is back. And that I’m sore after an easy workout. I get upset that I’ve
done this to myself again. I just want to be a normal kid. I’ve been through
this cycle at least five times in the last few years.
So I set a timetable to do a reset, and spend the days until
it starts saying goodbye to all the things I shouldn’t eat, while wishing I
could start right now (there’s always some event in the way). Sure I could
start now, take a break for the event, and make things better. But I don’t.
I know I feel better when I don’t eat dairy, sugar and
bready stuff or drink. I know this. It’s night and day. I also know I look
better. I drop 10 of the extra 15 pounds that haunt me. My body changes quickly. Both when I
regain and lose control. It seems obvious. Don’t eat the stuff that makes you
feel bad. But that means being THAT person when I eat anywhere but my kitchen.
It impacts my social life. It impacts work. It impacts everything. But so does
feeling like crap. When I was on crutches I didn’t hesitate to rearrange plans
around my needs. Why should this be different? It’s something I need to do for
my health. It shouldn’t be optional. I need to learn this.
I’m finding that I care less about being a certain weight or
size than I used to. Most of the time. I care about feeling good and being able
to do the things I want to do. And I want to be active. I want to run. I want
to take care of my body. I want to go for long walks. I want to sleep well and
wake up feeling bright. I want energy. I want to notice the lack of aches and
pains. I’m lucky that I truly enjoy exercise. I love going to the gym. I LOVE
working out with a trainer. I love seeing what my body can do and pushing
myself. I love muscles. I love my muscles.
I’m thinking about how to make this time different. How to
dig into some of these issues and find solutions that stick. I’m going to do an
August W30, so I have a few days until then to not go nuts, start making better
choices and perhaps do some experimentation. Stay tuned.
