Eat less. Exercise more

A common conversation with my brain goes like this:

"You need to eat before you workout so you have energy to burn."
"So I need to eat so I can go to the gym to lose weight the I gained by eating?"
"Yep."
"But if I don't eat then I don't have to go to the gym to lose weight I gained by eating."
"No."
"But if I don't eat I'll lose weight. And if I don't eat and workout I'll lose weight faster."
"No"
"But if I don't eat then ..."
"No."
"Why?"
"Science."
"Damnit, brain. You're right."

As a culture struggling with obesity we're told by media to eat healthier (read as "less") and exercise more. Generally, that's true. But for a growing percentage of Americans it's a recipe for disaster. A piece in Outside Magazine outlined, for one group, the difficulty and danger that comes from following common advice spewed from troves of lifestyle and fitness magazines.

The author told the story of a man training for a marathon, who, despite following a rigid balanced diet and daily mileage goals, was not getting any of the numerous benefits of an active lifestyle. His consulting physician said his reduced sex drive and chronic fatigue were due to eating too little, which led to a hormore deficiency and sent his body into a starvation state. The fix, while seeming counter intuitive is, with a basic knowledge of metabolism, frankly straight forward, eat more.

My mind can understand these facts but lacks the trust to use them, because a more sinister truth is below the surface.

Ten years ago when I was at the start of my eating disorder I ate very little and exercised twice a day. I lost weight. It worked, I lost weight. Years later, I did the exact same thing again and lost weight. It's how I've always done this, in a very unhealthy and dangerous way usually ending with me postponing my career and education malnourished in the hospital.

Now, on finishing substance abuse treatment, I've gained much weight -- more than my healthy weight set by a dietitian. So I'm in a position to legitimately lose weight.

This time I'm doing it right. Yes, I'll argue within myself. And it may be a struggle at time. But it's worth getting healthy the right way.

Wheelchair Awareness

The second time in treatment for an eating disorder. I was in a wheelchair for several days and our group was going on a community outing for a snack. Driving to the shop, another patient looks over to me and asks what my story will be.
"My story?" I asked.
 "Yeah," she said. "You know, why you're in the wheelchair. Last week when we went to lunch for outing and I was still in a chair I told them I had heart issues."
"And I was in a skiing accident," a emaciated girl, no more than 14 years old in treatment her first time, chimed in.
I was floored. It never occur to me to lie. I have an eating disorder. They are very common and individuals require professional help and support for recovery.

It occured to me then. I need to talk about my experience often; not be afraid or shamed to hide what I'm going through. In fact, often when I share my story in a large group there will be at least one or two individuals who also share their struggle with an eating disorder.

And that's all I can do. Not be ashamed or scared and tell what I know. And the more I talk and tell people about eating disorders the likelier it is someone who needs help will come forward and tell a friend or loved one.

If you are reading this and feel the need to talk to someone or just want to know more about signs and symptoms please contact the National Eating Disorder Association at www.nationaleatingdisorders.org or call the helpline at 1-800-931-2237

Oh that po' chicken.

My lovely fiancee and I had a gorgeous Christmas together baking cookies, visiting the nursing home, wasting gas looking at lights and eating delicious food. The Christmas chicken, however, was a much more formidable task than shaping spritz'.

I watched my father dozens of times carving a bird – turkey, duck, chicken – and it always seemed kind of self-explanatory. Tug the leg. Slice. Grab the wing. Slice. Just that simple. However, something I had never taken into account was that my father had done this routine, likely, hundreds of times, thus nearly perfecting the carving craft.

Damnit, I tried my best. That was enough for Adla and I.

The bar has been set a little higher for the Easter duck.