Going deep

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 (6^th? 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.