I remember being a HS senior, trying to decide where I'd go to college, and feeling overwhelmed by the idea that the choice I made would determine the next four years of my life. Good thing I didn't realize it would actually determine the next 10+ years of my life, considering my career folded out of college relationships until I hit about 30, or I might have melted under the pressure to decide.
Well, right now I'm faced with the same kind of daunting decision. I need to pick a training program for the Marathon that will guide me through the next four months... and get me to the start line in decent physical shape and with a mind ready for punishment. The thing is, I know in advance that whichever route I go, the people I meet there, the advice I get, the training experience, is going to have an impact on me for the rest of my life. It's a seemingly simple decision but with the weight of my entire future braided in, I've been befuddled!
The obvious factors to consider include my availability, quality of the program (though this is a bit nebulous to me since I've never run with a training team or had a coach), cost, convenience and size/level of group. The constraints are that I don't get out of work until 6, I'd rather spend less than more on this, I want a group that's my level or lower so I don't get freaked out and demotivated, and that I already have commitments three nights a week.
The more prestigious class meets twice during the week, leaving me NO days off for ad hoc fun. It's early enough that I'd be late a lot. It costs $100 more than the other course, is on the East Side - and I live on the West Side - and is slightly above my level. To make matters worse, in 2000, I actually took a running class with this group (oh there it is, the truth, I did try running a decade ago and failed) but ended up dropping out because everyone seemed to enjoy running and I felt the odd man out. That's a lot of "cons" against my lead choice, based on prestige. And yet, I've kept it in lead position.
The other program meets on the West Side at 6:30 pm. They do a bag check so I wouldn't even have to run home before. At the end, I'd be 2 blocks from my house. It's cheaper. It starts 2 weeks earlier. The requirement for entry isn't as strict, so I might be with people my level. And this program meets one night during the week - a night when I don't have a commitment already - and once on the weekend for a long run, which is how I'm already doing my training. That's a lot of "pros." And yet, I've been reluctant to choose it.
It's interesting to notice my pension for prestige, my strong desire to go with "the best" by name, and trust "the authority" on running, when really I have no reason to believe option two would deliver any less of an experience. In fact, in my heart I believe my success at the marathon will have much more to do with the effort I put in to any program than the specific structure set up for me by an outside party. Both programs will attract interesting people. Either would be fine.
I've finally found the confidence to make a definitive choice. I was looking for a "pro" that would tip the scale in the second program's favor and I found it. The more prestigious program falls on the night I take intenSati; I would have to give that up. On my way home from class tonight, it dawned on me how truly important intenSati has become, how much I love and look forward to being with the people in it, and how my intenSati experience informs my running in ways nothing else could. It's the ultimate cross train. intenSati may do more to get me to the start line than anything else in my life.
So, with confidence, I have decided I'm going to go with the program that really makes sense for me. It's a choice that reflects what's good for me, my personal pros, and not just what might look good on paper, or sound good, or be easy to describe. Feels like a choice I can stand behind.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
123: Nursing a Torn Capsule
I went to see Dr. Metzl about my toe today. He took three X-rays and gave me the bad news. Bad news because A) it's what I thought it was based on Googling so I really didn't need to shell out a $25 co-pay for the diagnosis, and 2) bad news because there's no treatment for what's wrong. I just have to wait it out.
I've torn the capsule around the second joint on my right big toe. The pain I felt in the rest of my leg was just my body's way of trying to get me to stop running on the toe. Nothing above the toe is actually injured. That's a relief.
The doctor said this is one of the few injuries you really can't run on, or do anything for, and you just have to wait it out - at least a couple of weeks. "A couple of weeks? What does that mean? Like two weeks? My intensive training programs start the last week in July!" I could feel myself starting to tear up! He wouldn't commit. He said I could try to run on it when I felt ready, but if I still had pain, not to push it or I'd just delay the healing process. In the meanwhile, I should bike and swim.
Bike and swim!? I've been thinking about biking and swimming because of all the triathlon talk I was exposed to two weekends ago, and the triathlon I'll be going to in 2 weeks to support Melissa at. But I made a very conscious decision not to take anything else new on right now... I've got so much on my plate between running, work and my family. I don't know when I get to have fun any more. Just fun. No agenda.
I even had this fantasy that I'd run the Marathon on Sunday, November 7th, and then take the day off from work on Monday and go with my sister and brother-in-law, who are avid bikers, to a neighborhood bike shop and get fitted for my first bike in 30 years. I'd treat myself to something small and light, with all kinds of accessories to make the ride comfortable. And a bell. I want a bell. Then I'd spend the next few heart-of-fall weekends riding up and down the Hudson, leaf peeping in Rockland County, maybe even riding the 38 miles up to Westchester to visit my mother and bring her a picnic from Zabar's. I'd wear jeans and a sweater, and one of those fancy "implode on impact" helmets I've heard about. (I'm pretty klutzy so it's likely there will be impact.) Biking was going to let me feel something new unfold. I was counting on that to keep me from falling into a pit of depression after the Marathon is over.
Maybe I'll go to the pool in the morning. I did buy two new bathing suits last week. And I guess I can start with the bike in the gym and just see how that goes. I was talking to my friend Cat tonight about all this and said I was afraid I'd lose enthusiasm for running. She said not to worry; if I lost it, I'd just have to get it back. Simple as that.
So, taking this new step in training one day at a time, appreciating it for what it is, and trusting that everything unfolds in perfect timing...
I've torn the capsule around the second joint on my right big toe. The pain I felt in the rest of my leg was just my body's way of trying to get me to stop running on the toe. Nothing above the toe is actually injured. That's a relief.
The doctor said this is one of the few injuries you really can't run on, or do anything for, and you just have to wait it out - at least a couple of weeks. "A couple of weeks? What does that mean? Like two weeks? My intensive training programs start the last week in July!" I could feel myself starting to tear up! He wouldn't commit. He said I could try to run on it when I felt ready, but if I still had pain, not to push it or I'd just delay the healing process. In the meanwhile, I should bike and swim.
Bike and swim!? I've been thinking about biking and swimming because of all the triathlon talk I was exposed to two weekends ago, and the triathlon I'll be going to in 2 weeks to support Melissa at. But I made a very conscious decision not to take anything else new on right now... I've got so much on my plate between running, work and my family. I don't know when I get to have fun any more. Just fun. No agenda.
I even had this fantasy that I'd run the Marathon on Sunday, November 7th, and then take the day off from work on Monday and go with my sister and brother-in-law, who are avid bikers, to a neighborhood bike shop and get fitted for my first bike in 30 years. I'd treat myself to something small and light, with all kinds of accessories to make the ride comfortable. And a bell. I want a bell. Then I'd spend the next few heart-of-fall weekends riding up and down the Hudson, leaf peeping in Rockland County, maybe even riding the 38 miles up to Westchester to visit my mother and bring her a picnic from Zabar's. I'd wear jeans and a sweater, and one of those fancy "implode on impact" helmets I've heard about. (I'm pretty klutzy so it's likely there will be impact.) Biking was going to let me feel something new unfold. I was counting on that to keep me from falling into a pit of depression after the Marathon is over.
Maybe I'll go to the pool in the morning. I did buy two new bathing suits last week. And I guess I can start with the bike in the gym and just see how that goes. I was talking to my friend Cat tonight about all this and said I was afraid I'd lose enthusiasm for running. She said not to worry; if I lost it, I'd just have to get it back. Simple as that.
So, taking this new step in training one day at a time, appreciating it for what it is, and trusting that everything unfolds in perfect timing...
Monday, July 5, 2010
124: Confessions of a Hypocrite
I considered pushing this tidbit under the carpet but decided not to. Why start to try to "look good" now? I'm real.
I ate meat! Literally the day after I came out of the pescaterian closet here, I did it. I ate steak. Not organic steak, or grass fed steak; it was steak from the Stop & Shop. Probably as cruel, hormone-riddled, and drenched in cortisol as a steak can get. It was grilled on a BBQ though, and I don't get that kind of treat too often... I only took a bite but it was amazing - maybe the best steak I've ever had! I've been dreaming of that taste since April! I had to really fight myself not to take more.
Truth be told, my tummy felt a little bit upset afterward. I'm just not used to it I guess. But that aside, the moment of consumption was memorable in a positive way. Holy even. The way the meat was browned and juicy, and so flavorful! That steak was nothing like the greying roast beef I stared down at and literally cried over once during a meditation retreat in 2003. It was glistening and delicious.
So where does my conscience go in a moment like that? I don't know the answer to that question.
To add to my transgressions, immediately after eating the steak I went outside and watched my friends take a knife to live lobsters. I figured, if I intended to eat those creatures later, the least I could do was respectfully observe their slaughter, and assure myself it was done humanely. I've seen lobsters get dropped into a pot of boiling water before, but never the knife to grill method. I asked whether the lobsters could feel it. "Of course they can feel it!" the guys said! Stupid, Michelle. Why had I been so sure the answer to that would be no?
Before killing the lobsters, we took photos of them, as if they were trophies we'd caught ourselves from the sea, and not bought with a credit card at a store. Four big ones totaling 21 pounds. They seemed mature. Did they know each other or were they new acquaintances thrown into this tangle together? Did they want a last meal? Algae perhaps? What do lobsters eat anyway? Do they have families? I started to feel a little uncomfortable and one woman came out and said, "Don't watch!" but I knew I had to.
The lobsters were placed on a low table from which they urgently tried to crawl away. It was like herding cats. Every time we'd put one back on the table, another would awkwardly manage to get off in the opposite direction. They knew something very bad was about to happen. I started to give them voices in my head, and even aloud, "Oh crap! This doesn't look good! Pray for a miracle! So the legend is true..." I imagined one of them looked me in the eye and implored. I briefly had visions of running them back down to the ocean. I had to remind myself I'm a grown up and grown ups don't do irrational things like that when they're guests at someone else's house. Plus, I love eating lobster! What would we have for dinner? I tried to focus on this being part of "The Circle of Life" and all that but could feel myself starting to sweat. At least they'd be killed quickly. Fine, they'd feel it, but only for a second. We all have our tsuris!
Three guys were going to do the killing. There was a glove to hold them down with, a pan to catch the blue blood if it spurted out, and a medium size butcher's knife. Our host went first and demonstrated the technique. It was significantly more barbaric than I'd thought it would be and the lobster fought back and wiggled the entire time. He was actually still wiggling after he was cut straight down the middle and carried to the grill. I asked, "That's just the nerves still firing, right?" but nobody answered me.
When it was time for the second lobster to go on, guy #2 stepped in. There was a level of excitement in the air. #3 was looking on and turned back to me and said, "I've never killed my dinner before." #2 talked the instructions out before starting; the host nodded his approval and said, "You can do it!" It sounded like #2 knew what he was supposed to do; but then when he attempted the first cut, the lobster proved stronger than he'd expected and wiggled away. I told myself this was a rite of passage for #2, and yes, the lobster was suffering unduly this time, but if #2 got it right then all future lobsters dying at his hand would have an easier time of it. I felt my blood pressure rise. I wanted the expert, #1, to get in there and put the animal out of its misery but he didn't - he just kept coaching #2 while #2 exclaimed over and over again, "This is hard!"
#3 had the advantage of knowing it was going to be hard and so he went in with purpose. He struggled too, but seemed a bit more serious about it and that made me feel better. Still, #3's lobster was never fully stabbed to death and went onto the BBQ flailing full out. I mean, that thing was totally not dead. Nobody said anything. #3 actually commented to me later that he thought his wasn't really dead when it went on the grill... "I don't think so either," I said quietly. You know. Tell it like it is. You did your best but you made that animal suffer.
So, the lobsters were served and they were amazing... the best lobsters I've had in my life! So fresh. So yummy. And in a weird way, even though it was very traumatic for me to watch the slaughtering, as usual, I was totally able to suspend that negative experience and just enjoy the food. In fact, I do think it made me enjoy it more, and also appreciate the men who actually worked really hard to kill the lobsters. Strange feeling and I'm not sure how I feel about it all. But I am grateful for the new understanding I'm gaining about the food I eat. I think we're so distanced from our animal core and studying food is one way in.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
125: Reverse Turf Toe
Yesterday I spent part of the afternoon reenacting the World Cup with friends. We played football (that's soccer to you and me) on the grass, barefoot, using towels and a Nerf ball for goal posts. It was a blast... until I dove for a ball and fell down on my big toe, curled under my foot.
Ooowww! I rolled on the grass dramatically, holding my foot, and crying out "Mommy!" though laughter. I imagined the real pain would pass in a moment, I'd stand up and score another goal. I did stand up and we started the game again but the pain didn't really subside. You know where this is going.
This morning I got up at 6:30AM, made blueberry muffins, started the coffee, and got ready for our big 5 mile Murdick's Fudge race. My toe was still sore but I figured I'd run through it. My friends descended one by one and we piled into the car and drove to the neighboring town's elementary school to pick up our numbers.
There wasn't a gun, or D-tags to record our time, and there were under 300 people at the start. It reminded me of my first race in Bedford, back in November, the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot. I started off strong, and pretty quickly jumped on the sidewalk to get ahead of the slow moving crowd. It was hot and the first mile was mostly flat and downhill; I wanted to take advantage of feeling strong.
Then suddenly, the dull strain in my toe began to demand my attention. A tight cramp began to crawl up my leg, attacking my calf muscle and ascending all the way to my thigh. It was crippling and alarming. I had to pull over and attempt a stretch. Could this be related to my strained toe? I felt scared; what's happening to me! I wasn't even sure what to stretch. Nothing made those muscles relax.
I took to the road again but couldn't do more than shuffle. By the end of the first mile, I was in agony. My leg felt like it was curling up. It was hot. I was actually limping even as I tried to walk a little bit and see if it would work itself out. I stretched again a few times. My friends eventually caught up to me and passed me - even the two pushing a baby stroller. There was a water station and I spoke to the volunteer there and she said to go back to the start, that they'd have medics there who were trained to deal with injuries.
I did as I was told because I didn't want to hurt myself any more and it seemed there was no point in just walking the rest of it - might as well turn back since I wasn't even half way through yet. I'm in this for the long haul and if I was about to do some long term damage, I'd better not.
When I got back to the start, there weren't any medical people waiting. The guy clocking the runners in by hand offered to use his megaphone to see if there were any doctors in the house. Slightly embarrassed to be taking him away from his clocking duties I declined and instead sat and waited for my friends to cross the finish line, rubbing my toe, and wondering what in the world I had done to myself.
When we got home, my friend Googled my symptoms but there wasn't anything describing the toe to calf/thigh link. We decided I had either a sprain, or Reverse Turf Toe. Who needs medial school, really, when you have the Internet? That said, I may go to the doctor when I get home to NY on Tuesday, just in case it's not Reverse Turf Toe, and is something that requires more than ice and elevation. Receiving an "incomplete" for today's race didn't feel good and I certainly don't want any more of that on my permanent record.
Ooowww! I rolled on the grass dramatically, holding my foot, and crying out "Mommy!" though laughter. I imagined the real pain would pass in a moment, I'd stand up and score another goal. I did stand up and we started the game again but the pain didn't really subside. You know where this is going.
This morning I got up at 6:30AM, made blueberry muffins, started the coffee, and got ready for our big 5 mile Murdick's Fudge race. My toe was still sore but I figured I'd run through it. My friends descended one by one and we piled into the car and drove to the neighboring town's elementary school to pick up our numbers.
There wasn't a gun, or D-tags to record our time, and there were under 300 people at the start. It reminded me of my first race in Bedford, back in November, the Thanksgiving Turkey Trot. I started off strong, and pretty quickly jumped on the sidewalk to get ahead of the slow moving crowd. It was hot and the first mile was mostly flat and downhill; I wanted to take advantage of feeling strong.
Then suddenly, the dull strain in my toe began to demand my attention. A tight cramp began to crawl up my leg, attacking my calf muscle and ascending all the way to my thigh. It was crippling and alarming. I had to pull over and attempt a stretch. Could this be related to my strained toe? I felt scared; what's happening to me! I wasn't even sure what to stretch. Nothing made those muscles relax.
I took to the road again but couldn't do more than shuffle. By the end of the first mile, I was in agony. My leg felt like it was curling up. It was hot. I was actually limping even as I tried to walk a little bit and see if it would work itself out. I stretched again a few times. My friends eventually caught up to me and passed me - even the two pushing a baby stroller. There was a water station and I spoke to the volunteer there and she said to go back to the start, that they'd have medics there who were trained to deal with injuries.
I did as I was told because I didn't want to hurt myself any more and it seemed there was no point in just walking the rest of it - might as well turn back since I wasn't even half way through yet. I'm in this for the long haul and if I was about to do some long term damage, I'd better not.
When I got back to the start, there weren't any medical people waiting. The guy clocking the runners in by hand offered to use his megaphone to see if there were any doctors in the house. Slightly embarrassed to be taking him away from his clocking duties I declined and instead sat and waited for my friends to cross the finish line, rubbing my toe, and wondering what in the world I had done to myself.
When we got home, my friend Googled my symptoms but there wasn't anything describing the toe to calf/thigh link. We decided I had either a sprain, or Reverse Turf Toe. Who needs medial school, really, when you have the Internet? That said, I may go to the doctor when I get home to NY on Tuesday, just in case it's not Reverse Turf Toe, and is something that requires more than ice and elevation. Receiving an "incomplete" for today's race didn't feel good and I certainly don't want any more of that on my permanent record.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
126: Skinny Bitch
I’m sensitive. If you need 2 aspirins, I need one. A cup of coffee keeps me buzzing for an entire day. So it makes sense that the food I eat goes right into my bloodstream, metabolizes, and directly determines the octane rating of my day.
Compared to most Americans, I’ve always eaten very healthy. Nothing artificial, organic when I have a choice, and heavy on protein and good fats. I love animals but could completely suspend this when eating meat, even foie gras and veal. I don’t think it’s cruel to kill animals for food, even young animals. Music up: “The Circle of Life…”
All that said, this year I’ve been paying especially close attention to how things make me feel and it became undeniable that things like sushi, vegetables and whole grains left me feeling energized, whereas meat made me cloudy and tired.
I began taking the vegetarian option whenever it was an easy choice. I didn’t make a big thing about it, I just gently swapped things out when the opportunity was there. I liked it. My body felt better.
Then, I had a business trip to Mexico and seized the opportunity to absolutely gorge myself on chicken mole. I ate it twice daily for about 5 days and after a few months of a mostly vegetarian diet, the impact was noticeable. My brain went into a fog. I felt “dirty.” I don’t know how else to describe it. Then we had a big group dinner with more meat and I ordered a Mexican delicacy, ant’s eggs in hot butter. They were meaty and heavy and I just kept staring at those eggs on my plate and they looked like something you’d find in the corner of the garage and spray down, maybe even call an exterminator for… and I was done! Done with meat.
Right after that I went to a spa where the cuisine was predominantly vegetarian, plus fish, and I was in heaven. Everything was so delicious. Preparations were colorful, flavorful, healthy and respectful. I felt respectful. I felt physically good and – here was the big point of difference – I felt emotionally good. Nobody was harmed in the making of my dinner. I’m a loving being like we all are and part of being loving is the absence of hurting. Getting my needs met without breaking a neck gave me a higher level of meal satisfaction than I’d thought to seek.
Right after Mexico and the spa, I was home and looking to thin out my book collection. I few years ago a bunch of friends had raved to me about a book called Skinny Bitch. I’d smiled, “Thanks for the referral,” and thought to myself wow, my friends think I’m a wanna-be Upper East Side socialite? I got problems. I assumed a book with a title like that was about handbags, shoes, and how to achieve superficial bliss. Not interested! One of my more thinking friends eventually bought the book for me and I stuck it on my bookshelf and never thought of it again.
I turned the cover back and read a few pages before dropping it in the Housing Works bag, and ended up reading 50 pages before bed that night. The book isn’t at all what I’d thought it was; it’s about the American meat producing industry, an animal cruelty expose, and advocates veganism. (Oh yeah, and it says if you become a vegan you can’t help but become skinny…) A bunch of my friends are vegans or par vegans – they eat eggs, and some eat fish. The basic idea though of veganism is no meat, fish, eggs, or milk. Nothing derived from animals.
I finished the book in 2 days and began asking friends about it – the ones who had referred me to it previously. I was already eating vegetarian plus milk, eggs and fish. The idea of not being part of animal torture for an extended period of time – maybe even a lifetime – was exhilarating. It fits with who I am as a person. I do not support cruelty of any kind.
So, what about fish? I realize this may sound weird but, I don’t feel fish suffer the same way that other animals do. I can’t imagine a worker torturing a fish the way they regularly torture cows, pigs and chickens. A fish swims away if it can and gets caught if it can’t. Good luck, fish! May the best being win! Maybe it’s my competitive side…
So that distinction, coupled with the fact that my body loves fish, establishes a framework for how I’m living these days. I feel clean, energized and nourished after a sushi dinner. Oysters turn me on. Salmon is Omega heaven. Give me shrimp, Bubba.
So now, it’s been about 3 months, less the chicken binge in Mexico. I haven’t been talking about it to anyone because I hate when people make grand statements about who they suddenly are, or what they suddenly want, and then expect you to accommodate them. I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.
To be clear, I have no moral issue with meat-eating. I’d eat steak from a grass fed, hormone free, and humanely slaughtered cow any day! Yum… bring it on! Fresh chicken? I’ve never had it but I imagine a real chicken tastes awesome and chicken-y. I’m just not sure how or where one might buy this kind of stuff. I wish I knew because in moments, my body is really missing it. I think sometimes about my childhood friend Jenny Katz and how she slaughtered a chicken and wrote about the experience as a way to own her actions as a meat-eater. I’m not sure I’m ready for slaughtering; but buying from a mindful farm I could do.
Vegetarianism… or really, pescetarianism, in my case, hasn’t always been easy. For the first 10 days I had diarrhea, constantly. I couldn’t understand it! I decided my body was just purging all the toxins from meat. Not sure if that was true but it made me feel better. During that time, I thought of meat almost obsessively. Sometimes I’d glance down at my own forearm and have the urge to bite into it. Then one day, I was crossing 57th street and a French bulldog was in front of me, it was brindled, and I had the passing thought, “That dog would taste good with BBQ sauce.” So, I’m not cured of the desire; just managing for optimal expression.
I’m done eating cruel meat, hormone-riddled, cortisol-flushed meat from animals who died under stress, weeks prior to my purchasing it. I don’t respond to it in a positive way. I believe that, based on my continuing cravings for meat that if I were to consume healthy meat, I’d have a positive response; but for now, since that’s not an option, I’m happy to be living my values in a genuine way.
I do believe we are what we eat and I love myself more that I’ve found a way to live closer to my values. I’m cruelty-free, in mind and practice. If that makes me a Skinny Bitch, so be it! (Fingers crossed.)
Compared to most Americans, I’ve always eaten very healthy. Nothing artificial, organic when I have a choice, and heavy on protein and good fats. I love animals but could completely suspend this when eating meat, even foie gras and veal. I don’t think it’s cruel to kill animals for food, even young animals. Music up: “The Circle of Life…”
All that said, this year I’ve been paying especially close attention to how things make me feel and it became undeniable that things like sushi, vegetables and whole grains left me feeling energized, whereas meat made me cloudy and tired.
I began taking the vegetarian option whenever it was an easy choice. I didn’t make a big thing about it, I just gently swapped things out when the opportunity was there. I liked it. My body felt better.
Then, I had a business trip to Mexico and seized the opportunity to absolutely gorge myself on chicken mole. I ate it twice daily for about 5 days and after a few months of a mostly vegetarian diet, the impact was noticeable. My brain went into a fog. I felt “dirty.” I don’t know how else to describe it. Then we had a big group dinner with more meat and I ordered a Mexican delicacy, ant’s eggs in hot butter. They were meaty and heavy and I just kept staring at those eggs on my plate and they looked like something you’d find in the corner of the garage and spray down, maybe even call an exterminator for… and I was done! Done with meat.
Right after that I went to a spa where the cuisine was predominantly vegetarian, plus fish, and I was in heaven. Everything was so delicious. Preparations were colorful, flavorful, healthy and respectful. I felt respectful. I felt physically good and – here was the big point of difference – I felt emotionally good. Nobody was harmed in the making of my dinner. I’m a loving being like we all are and part of being loving is the absence of hurting. Getting my needs met without breaking a neck gave me a higher level of meal satisfaction than I’d thought to seek.
Right after Mexico and the spa, I was home and looking to thin out my book collection. I few years ago a bunch of friends had raved to me about a book called Skinny Bitch. I’d smiled, “Thanks for the referral,” and thought to myself wow, my friends think I’m a wanna-be Upper East Side socialite? I got problems. I assumed a book with a title like that was about handbags, shoes, and how to achieve superficial bliss. Not interested! One of my more thinking friends eventually bought the book for me and I stuck it on my bookshelf and never thought of it again.
I turned the cover back and read a few pages before dropping it in the Housing Works bag, and ended up reading 50 pages before bed that night. The book isn’t at all what I’d thought it was; it’s about the American meat producing industry, an animal cruelty expose, and advocates veganism. (Oh yeah, and it says if you become a vegan you can’t help but become skinny…) A bunch of my friends are vegans or par vegans – they eat eggs, and some eat fish. The basic idea though of veganism is no meat, fish, eggs, or milk. Nothing derived from animals.
I finished the book in 2 days and began asking friends about it – the ones who had referred me to it previously. I was already eating vegetarian plus milk, eggs and fish. The idea of not being part of animal torture for an extended period of time – maybe even a lifetime – was exhilarating. It fits with who I am as a person. I do not support cruelty of any kind.
So, what about fish? I realize this may sound weird but, I don’t feel fish suffer the same way that other animals do. I can’t imagine a worker torturing a fish the way they regularly torture cows, pigs and chickens. A fish swims away if it can and gets caught if it can’t. Good luck, fish! May the best being win! Maybe it’s my competitive side…
So that distinction, coupled with the fact that my body loves fish, establishes a framework for how I’m living these days. I feel clean, energized and nourished after a sushi dinner. Oysters turn me on. Salmon is Omega heaven. Give me shrimp, Bubba.
So now, it’s been about 3 months, less the chicken binge in Mexico. I haven’t been talking about it to anyone because I hate when people make grand statements about who they suddenly are, or what they suddenly want, and then expect you to accommodate them. I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.
To be clear, I have no moral issue with meat-eating. I’d eat steak from a grass fed, hormone free, and humanely slaughtered cow any day! Yum… bring it on! Fresh chicken? I’ve never had it but I imagine a real chicken tastes awesome and chicken-y. I’m just not sure how or where one might buy this kind of stuff. I wish I knew because in moments, my body is really missing it. I think sometimes about my childhood friend Jenny Katz and how she slaughtered a chicken and wrote about the experience as a way to own her actions as a meat-eater. I’m not sure I’m ready for slaughtering; but buying from a mindful farm I could do.
Vegetarianism… or really, pescetarianism, in my case, hasn’t always been easy. For the first 10 days I had diarrhea, constantly. I couldn’t understand it! I decided my body was just purging all the toxins from meat. Not sure if that was true but it made me feel better. During that time, I thought of meat almost obsessively. Sometimes I’d glance down at my own forearm and have the urge to bite into it. Then one day, I was crossing 57th street and a French bulldog was in front of me, it was brindled, and I had the passing thought, “That dog would taste good with BBQ sauce.” So, I’m not cured of the desire; just managing for optimal expression.
I’m done eating cruel meat, hormone-riddled, cortisol-flushed meat from animals who died under stress, weeks prior to my purchasing it. I don’t respond to it in a positive way. I believe that, based on my continuing cravings for meat that if I were to consume healthy meat, I’d have a positive response; but for now, since that’s not an option, I’m happy to be living my values in a genuine way.
I do believe we are what we eat and I love myself more that I’ve found a way to live closer to my values. I’m cruelty-free, in mind and practice. If that makes me a Skinny Bitch, so be it! (Fingers crossed.)
Friday, July 2, 2010
127: Will Run for Fudge
I took the day off from work today to get a jump on the 4th of July holiday weekend. Woke at the crack of dawn, did 5 loads of laundry, cleaned my apartment and went running. Who is this girl? Not the same girl I was a year ago. That's for sure. This girl is happy. This girl feels authentic and connected. This girl notices all the light around her. This girl loves her life. Yes, I love my life.
You think I'm going to say "It's the running." Well, I am. To be more precise, it isn't the running, it's what happens to the rest of your life when you are running. People and opportunities that seemed invisible before are suddenly knocking on your door asking if you want to play. Yes! I want to play.
I'm in Martha's Vineyard now as I write this. Sitting on the deck, listening to the sound of the Atlantic a few hundred feet away, gentle waves crashing. The air is cool and breezy. Bruce is playing on someone's iPod inside, the men are talking World Cup, and I can smell the pizza we have heating in the oven. There is wine. A lot of it. There are hydrangea. Blue. I love hydrangea. A firefly floats across my extended legs and - BLAMO - gives me the sign - he's on FIRE - and he's here to play. We're both here to play! I can't wait to see how this weekend unfolds.
One thing I'm excited for is the 5 mile race I'm running on Sunday. My friend Christina found it for me. Her heart is so big it could make you cry. The race is sponsored by a fudge company. You have to love Martha's Vineyard!!! We signed up. And then others signed up. We stopped at the Nike outlet store on the drive here today and everyone went bananas suiting up for the fudge run!
I surprised myself at the Nike outlet. I bought a bunch of shorts, some tops, and a slew of discounted winter gear.
Think about that. It is July and I bought winter running hats and gloves. I guess my perception of where this is all going has changed. Maybe I'm not just training for the 2010 NYC Marathon. Maybe, I'm a runner, and I'm just doing my thing... and I'm beginning to see that November 7th isn't the end of this journey but the beginning.
You think I'm going to say "It's the running." Well, I am. To be more precise, it isn't the running, it's what happens to the rest of your life when you are running. People and opportunities that seemed invisible before are suddenly knocking on your door asking if you want to play. Yes! I want to play.
I'm in Martha's Vineyard now as I write this. Sitting on the deck, listening to the sound of the Atlantic a few hundred feet away, gentle waves crashing. The air is cool and breezy. Bruce is playing on someone's iPod inside, the men are talking World Cup, and I can smell the pizza we have heating in the oven. There is wine. A lot of it. There are hydrangea. Blue. I love hydrangea. A firefly floats across my extended legs and - BLAMO - gives me the sign - he's on FIRE - and he's here to play. We're both here to play! I can't wait to see how this weekend unfolds.
One thing I'm excited for is the 5 mile race I'm running on Sunday. My friend Christina found it for me. Her heart is so big it could make you cry. The race is sponsored by a fudge company. You have to love Martha's Vineyard!!! We signed up. And then others signed up. We stopped at the Nike outlet store on the drive here today and everyone went bananas suiting up for the fudge run!
I surprised myself at the Nike outlet. I bought a bunch of shorts, some tops, and a slew of discounted winter gear.
Think about that. It is July and I bought winter running hats and gloves. I guess my perception of where this is all going has changed. Maybe I'm not just training for the 2010 NYC Marathon. Maybe, I'm a runner, and I'm just doing my thing... and I'm beginning to see that November 7th isn't the end of this journey but the beginning.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
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