drop the fork

Comfort Carbs

This is my most stressful time of year. My biggest deadlines fall (in descending stress order) at November 15, May 15, and August 15. Right now, I'm madly trying to juggle my job, my housework (mostly laundry and billpaying -- my housekeeper hits the high spots, and the rest can wait), dosing the sick cat, getting to the gym, and hopping on the ol' bike twice a week, as well as any extracurricular activities I can fit in (I'm going to my jewelry convention next week, come hell or high water). I TiVo exactly two TV shows weekly, and it's a miracle if I get them watched in the same week.

Oh, yeah. Somewhere in all that, I guess I have to eat something, too.

Eating on the run has its challenges. Here's what I do:

I tend to eat the same things for breakfast. They're easy, and quick. Oatmeal. A peanut butter sandwich. Some fruit. Maybe once or twice a week, a scone from Panera. And always, a skim mocha (dairy serving!!). I can eat the PB sandwich in the car. The scone is a quick grab on the way to work. Fruit is usually easy; if I don't get a serving at home, I go get a banana from my office building's convenience store. I can always fix oatmeal at work (Nature's Path Optimum oatmeal packets are great! Two packets, 300 calories.)

I'm a one-note for lunch, too: a turkey sandwich (real, not deli) with honey mustard, and a banana. Occasionally, I venture over to Soho and get some sushi and veggies. Other times, I'll get a Cosi sandwich. Whatever I get, it has to have enough protein in it to last for several hours. A salad just doesn't do it for me. I'm hungry again in an hour.

Dinners and snacks are the biggest challenge. I work late most evenings this time of year, and twice a week I leave the office and go directly to the gym. Here's what works for me: I rely on canned salmon or tuna, canned fruit, canned veggies, and the occasional frozen entrée -- but something from Whole Kitchen, Green Guru, or Moosewood. Whole Foods also carries pouches of precooked white and brown rice; I buy a box every once in a while and throw it in the office freezer. I stock single-serving sizes of pretzels, a few soups (but not many; too much sodium). Right now I have a box of Cheerios under my desk; it's one of my favorite snacks. I'm never lacking for something to eat when it gets late.

Sometimes, though, when the stress really gets to me, I need to eat a little comfort food. Yesterday, for example, was a dreadful day . . . I accomplished a lot, just not what I originally set out to do. By the time evening came, I was pretty much brain-dead. I kept putting off eating any real dinner, and so when it came time to leave, I was hungry (and not in the best of moods). I asked hubby if we could stop for dinner somewhere on the way home. We went to Café Deluxe, where I carefully scrutinized their wonderful menu.

Did I choose something healthy? Depends. In terms of my mental health, yeah, I think I did. I was so tired of the same ol' same ol', that I went for a French martini and some macaroni 'n cheese, made with gruyere. And a couple slices of bread, to mop up the extra cheese. That's it, that was my entire meal. And, y'know, it was just what I needed. It was the essence of portion control, too. CD's martinis are small -- about 4 ounces. The mac was a side order, and I knew it would be no more than about a cup. I got to have something decadent . . . but not too much.

Today I will go back to my usual pre-gym/working late meal . . . can't have martinis and mac all the time. As a once-in-a-while departure, though, it was great. Food for the soul.

A few entries back, I mentioned that I'm trying to drop a few additional pounds, and make the move to 120s-land. I did lose the vacation gain, but now I've stalled out. I'm hovering in the low 130s, and for now, that's just going to have to do. I know from past experience that I need to eat just a little more during stressful periods, so I'm not going to cut my eating back any more for the next 3 weeks or so. I'll just hold the line, work on building more muscle, and keep making good food choices most of the time.

What is life, anyway, if you can't have a little fun?

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Labelingo

I’m not a born athlete, you know. Nope. Not even close.

I was, I admit, a pretty active little kid. I liked to run around, climb trees, ride my bike, clamber around on the jungle gym. I was pretty skinny, actually. My Mom used to remark that I didn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.

That all changed when I hit junior high. The skids went on, real fast.

I’m not very good at team sports, you see. I could hit a softball, and one time really popped one to the outfield, but I remember being humiliated when I subsequently ran the bases, still clutching the bat. (Exactly why this bothered me so much, I don’t know. “You‘ve got to drop the bat!” one of my classmates chanted at me. Well, OK, fine. Today I’d say, “bite me.” Back then? I just ducked my head in shame.) While I remember scoring 14 points once, in junior high basketball, my gym class exploits were largely unremarkable. I didn’t much like physical activity, and didn’t’ go out of my way to engage in it. If you’d asked me, back then, I’d have described myself as “unathletic.”

Today, though, I consider myself to be an athlete. More specifically, an adult onset athlete. I’m not into competition . . . I don’t race, except with myself. But I’m an athlete all the same -- in the way that I train, the way I aggressively take care of injuries, the way that I fuel my activities.

Today, being an athlete is an important part of my identity, my self-image. Because “athlete” is a label I’ve pinned on myself, I behave differently than if I called myself “couch potato.”

• If I’m an athlete, I’m going to eat right and watch my weight, so that I can stay fit and feel good during my workouts.
• If I’m a couch potato, I’m going to polish off a bag of potato chips while watching 2 hours of must-see TV.
• If I’m an athlete, I’m going to kick my butt out of bed at 5:15 am to get out on my bike for an hour.
• If I’m a couch potato, I’m going to make sure I go through the drive-thru, so I don’t have to get out of the car and walk into the burger joint.
• If I’m an athlete, I’m going to get antsy if I go a couple of days without a workout . . . and if my work schedule sucks and I can’t get to the gym, I’m liable to just go out and run a couple of miles, simply to get my blood pumping.
• If I’m a couch potato, I’m going to park as close as I can to the Target . . . circling around the parking lot several times, if necessary . . . so I don’t have to walk very far to get to the door.

Enough. You get the idea.

Labels are powerful. Whether or not we acknowledge it, the labels we give ourselves have a great deal to do with our day-to-day thoughts and actions. I know some people don’t buy into the concept of positive thinking, but really . . . we are what we think. No more, no less. We are the sum total of our learning, our experiences, and the way we‘ve synthesized them into our own personal world-view. We create our own reality, every day, every minute, every thought. The background noise in our brains influences the way we feel.

Labels are powerful because they are part of that reality. They help us define ourselves and our relationship to the world. We humans love to classify; to pigeonhole. We do it to other folks, and we do it to ourselves.

So, here’s a task for you: spend some quiet time thinking of the labels that you’ve slapped on yourself. Positive ones, negative ones. Write them down.

Now, take a look at the negative ones. Figure out how to flip ‘em . . . find a way to make ‘em positive. If your label portfolio includes “lazy,” for example, start taking walks. Just do it. No excuses. It’s OK if you can only go for 10 minutes at first. Keep it up, and soon you’ll be walking miles. And your internal label will switch from “lazy” to “walker,” if you keep telling yourself that’s what you are -- and more important -- you actually live your label.

Now, I’m no psychologist, and I’m not going to tell you that changing your personality is as easy as re-labeling yourself. We’re too complex for that.

What I am saying, though, is that thinking about your labels can be a start. Self-knowledge has to start somewhere.

Y‘know, if I can be an athlete -- me, who must have been taking a bathroom break when they handed out the jock genes -- there’s no telling what you can be.

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