Feeling Soxy

(Ba dum dum)

Yesterday we talked about how crucial it is that you wear the right shoes when you’re walking, running, or standing for long periods. It took me a while to learn it at work; but, after I learned it, I’ve had several great conversations with coworkers on what shoes have worked best for them. I get as many different answers as the number of people I talk to. But, another issue that comes up nearly every time is socks.

Yes, socks.

I discounted it for ages. I mean, really. How much difference can a sock make? It’s a little woven thing, for crying out loud. I can see where its breathability would make a difference, but the cushion? Nah.

Well, that was my opinion before my sweet friend Sean (the jerk and personal trainer) gave me some Nike Dri-Fit socks for my birthday. Before I wore them, I was perfectly happy with my inexpensive little white socks from Target.

nike dri-fit socksThen I wore these and I am no longer content with my cheap little socks.

Turns out, these socks truly do make an appreciable difference. In fact, I was shocked at the difference. I don’t know if it’s the little bit of cushioning at the heel and toe, if it’s ribbing around the arch, or if it’s the material keeping my feet dry. I imagine it’s a combination since the effect is probably the result of a significant investment by Nike in the development of these little wonders. These socks do cost more than my socks-by-the-bag; however, the cost is totally worth the difference in how my feet, knees, and hips feel at the end of a shift.

Because I spend so much time on my feet at work and because my knees are not really ready for it, I have not started running again – although I do dream about it. I’m interested to see the difference the socks make on a run.

I’d love to hear from you if you know!

So, again, the right tools for the job – when framing a house, use a Stiletto hammer, not a ball-peen one. To avoid blisters, wear gloves that fit. When running, walking, or standing, wear the right shoe for the surface and duration. And to keep your feet really cozy, wear the right socks.

Dang that Sean for increasing my sock budget! Bless the man for making my feet more comfy.

Stiletto Is a Hammer and Mizuno Is a Tool

I think I’ve told you about how much I stand and walk at work. I sit down for no more than 45 minutes over the course of my 10.5 hour shift. Some nights I stand in one place for most of that; other nights I walk the whole night. In either case, I’m on my feet. Back in November, when I was working as a peer coach, I did walked all night, every night. One Sunday morning, my feet hurt so badly that I literally could not walk. I crawled from one sitting place to another until the naproxen kicked in.

A "pair" of shoes I once took to another job so that I could take a walk at lunch.
A “pair” of shoes I once took to another job so that I could take a walk at lunch.

I never knew feet could hurt that badly! The bones in the balls of my feet felt like shards grinding against each other with every movement. It was agony!

The very next shift I worked found me at the nurses’ office asking about shoes. The nurse on duty told me to get either: 1) hiking boots, 2) trail running shoes, or 3) cross-trainers. He said that the higher the model number, the better the support would be for me walking on concrete. He also told me to get at least two pairs and to alternate them. The air bubbles in the soles require about 24 hours of rest to get back to their original shape.

I had been wearing a single pair of regular running shoes. After a 50-hour work week, their soles were pancake flat! No wonder my feet hurt!

I took the nurse’s advice and bought two pairs of New Balance cross-trainers from Joe’s New Balance Outlet online. I got some really terrific shoes at a great price and they were narrow, too! I have a really hard time finding shoes that fit my narrow feet well and was ecstatic to find shoes that fit me on that site.

Six months passed and the shoes finally became so fatigued that they no longer provided the support I needed. Logic would say that since I was so happy with my purchases from Joe’s before, I would go back there again, right? Oh, please! I had to try something new.

I bought three pairs of Saucony shoes at a local store for about the same per pair cost as Joe’s. Walking around the store in the shoes, they were heavenly. They were not so heavenly after walking on concrete for several hours. Only one pair of them is really designed to hold up to that kind of wear. The other two pairs are really made more for running and they just don’t provide support for long hours.

So, I’ve learned my lesson.

Just like with anything else: use the right tools for the job. Running shoes are for running. Their spring provides just the support needed for a nice run; however, for hours of walking on concrete, they fall flat……really flat….painfully flat. Walking on stone calls for a firmer sole, like the one found on cross-trainers, trail runners and hiking boots.

Um, just like the nurse told me.

The Tragedy of Limiting Bounty

This morning I enjoyed a wonderful breakfast with my dad. He made Scotch oats with cinnamon, milled flaxseed and craisins, spicy V-8, Bing cherries and thick sliced bacon. (Hey, in reasonable quantities, bacon isn’t an enemy. Plus, we’re talking Wright’s bacon here. A slice or two in a month isn’t going to undo all of the good things I eat.) Daddy and I are both cherry fiends – we will eat them until we are literally sick. Cherries, prunes, dates and watermelon are traps for both of us.

cherriesDad said that he had taken a bag of cherries to one of his work sites; but, the people there didn’t eat them. They eat apples, plums, peaches, and bananas. They might eat a pear every now and then, but the only cherries they eat are on top of a banana split. This restarted a conversation from several days ago about people with very limited vegetable menus. How many people do we all know who eat green beans, corn, white potatoes, maybe some yellow squash, and maybe some broccoli? They are missing out on the bounty of produce available! There is so much wonderful stuff out there to try!

Years ago, my son and I ate lunch at P.F Changs on our way to pick  up our Christmas tree. He ordered some kind of Singapore street noodle thing (I think) that neither of us liked. He apologized all over himself for ordering something he couldn’t eat since the meal was kind of a special occasion. I reminded him that if you never try new things, you never know how much you really like. As a result, his menu is broader even than mine! He will try anything once and, more often than not, likes it. (By the way, never share a bucket of mussels with him. He doesn’t really share.)

Some time ago, I challenged all of us to find and try something new. I think it’s about time for that challenge again. It is, after all, summer time and fresh produce is rolling in from all directions. If we can’t find an actual new item (like kohlrabi for me), let’s try preparing an old standard a new way. Grill it, roast it, steam it or serve it with simpler seasoning. Instead of boiling your yellow squash, dice it up, sauté it, and put it in  scrambled eggs. Bake a grapefruit half with a little brown sugar and serve it for dessert.

Let’s all shake up our menus and let the bounty of what’s available to us nourish our bodies and feed our spirits.

I Tripped on a Plateful of Ego

Lion_Bar__30853.1349642207.1280.1280

Whoops.

Last Thursday morning after work, I wrote Grief-eater. Then, I wrote It’s Easy to Feel Your Pain. That piece had been banging around inside my head for several days and I needed to get it out. Now, in Grief-eater, I talked about having good food choices on-hand to get through the times of stress eating. I kinda congratulated myself on doing so well thus far. Then I wrote the other piece.

And I promptly ate four candy bars.

In a row.

Within fifteen minutes.

And they were frozen.

lion2The second piece was very hard to write down – not the words, they seemed to come on their own, but the feelings were very difficult to put out there. That was an incredibly difficult time for me and to relive it was no picnic, either. Or, maybe it was a picnic and the only thing on the menu was Lion bars.

Then, there was the weekend….and the funeral.

In spite of having lived in other areas of the country, I’m a Southern woman. I don’t know how y’all do it out West or in the North; but, in the South, we eat at funerals. We eat a lot. And at Leah’s funeral, we ate…a lot. Over the course of the weekend, I ate more meat than I’ve eaten in months – more cake, more pie, more bread…well, just more. And you know what? I’m okay with that. (Well, mentally, I’m okay with it. Physically, I feel greasy, bloated and yick.)

Today is a new day and I am back in my groove, eating healthfully. For me, that means lots and lots of vegetables, a good amount of fruit, little to no dairy and very little animal protein. For me to feel my best, that’s my menu.

At the funeral, we talked about how Leah had taken care of herself. She ate good things. She took an aspirin a day, all that kind of thing. But, you can’t guard against everything. A roving clot killed her. But, here’s the thing: she was in good shape and took care of herself. She was able to enjoy her life right up to the very end. As a matter of fact, she was packing her car to go on a trip when she had the stroke that killed her! She was living, I tell ya!

That’s the whole point of making healthful dietary and exercise choices! It’s not about living forever. It’s about being able to enjoy the time I have.

And enjoying that time means that sometimes I have a plateful of barbecue with friends and family, laughing and remembering that time when…..

 

It’s Easy to Feel Your Pain

“You didn’t tell me!”

I was awakened at 6AM one March morning in 1994 with my friend Larry screaming this through the phone at me. “You didn’t tell me that Joey was killed last night.”

I hadn’t known.

After ending the call with Larry, I phoned my father and told him what had happened. “What are you going to do?” he asked. I replied that I planned to go to work and would make further plans as I had more information.

My father knew better.

The drive from his house to mine usually took a little more than an hour. 45 minutes after we hung up, he was at my house with breakfast. By then, the reality had hit me. I was sitting in a corner screaming the only word left in my vocabulary, “Nonononononononononono!”

Victorian+Cemetery+angel+rainMy father stayed with me in the days and weeks that followed. In spite of the several very difficult events I’d gone through that year, burying my friend was (and remains) the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. We love our family partly because, well, we have to. But, we love our friends because we choose to. Losing them is losing the family we’ve made for ourselves. It rips us in several directions. But Daddy stayed with me. He held me like his baby I once was as I wept so many times. I felt his own tears hitting my hair at the graveside service. He gave me counsel when, after picking up the phone to call Joey yet again, I dropped both it and myself to the floor, wailing, “How long will I keep doing this?” My father said, “My father was my best friend and sometimes, even now, more than 20 years later, I think that if I could just talk to Daddy, everything would be alright.”

It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I didn’t feel any better; but, he told me the truth. I still think of things I’d love to tell Joey.

Parents love their children differently than children love their parents. I’ve heard that all my life and know its truth in my own affections for my son and for my father. Tomorrow, my sister and I go with our daddy as he buries the woman he loves and with whom he had planned to spend the rest of his life. As mothers, I know that we would do anything to spare our own children this kind of anguish. As children, I know that both of us would far rather experience this torment for ourselves than to watch that dear man as he is shattered by this grief.

When it comes to those you love, it is agonizing to stand helplessly by, watching their suffering. It is decidedly easier to feel your own pain.

Grief-eater

London-Types-6Beefeaters once protected their monarchs by tasting the liege’s food to see if it was poisoned. During times of stress and/or great sadness, I become the Grief-eater. I taste the king’s food, the queen’s food, the knave’s, the footman’s and the scullery maid’s! I am all in everybody’s plates – all to ensure the safety of the household (from my mood).

After leaving the hospital Sunday morning, my sister and I stopped at a store to pick up back-ache remedies. Once inside, all I could think about was the bag of Cheetos we passed. I told my sister in a rushed and maybe even panicked voice that I was going to get some popcorn. What I wanted was to get the Cheetos and a bungee cord to secure them around my neck with; but, I was going to go with the lower calorie popcorn treat. I figured that I could stuff myself like a little piggy and not kill my calorie budget for the day.

Then I read the back of the prepared popcorn bag.

Smartfood, my aunt Fanny!  All of the additives jacked up the calorie count to near Doritos levels. That’s not helping anything if I choose that popcorn! So, instead, I went with the pre-portioned cinnamon roasted almonds and granola mix packets. At least with those, I got some nutritional value out of the snack and the controlled portion size would keep me from eating myself into a stupor – even though I really wanted to eat myself into a stupor.

Even after I arrived at my house where there were no witnesses other than the cats (who are easily bribed with a can of tuna) I ate lots and lots of vegetables, nuts, and fruit. I’d love to say that my good behavior was the result of an iron will, but you’d all laugh at the obvious lie. The truth is that my good behavior was the result of last week’s kitchen purge. All of the bad stuff was gone and I had plenty of healthful options available and close at hand.

We still have to make it through the funeral and long months of agonizing grief; but, with a sound nutritional game plan in play, we can come out the other side without doing too much damage.

No,  a squash slice dipped in hummus does not give the same chemical thrill that I get from a strawberry cheesecake Blizzard; however, I can fit back into my cute blue shorts and that more than makes up the difference.

 

Love Is a Rheostat

On Sunday morning just after Leah died, my father and I were exiting the hospital hand-in-hand when he said, “She really loved you.” To which I replied, “And I really loved her.” But, then, I realized that my statement wasn’t true. I didn’t love her in the past tense: I love her in the present tense.

light-switch-and-dimmerLove isn’t a toggle switch. It’s a rheostat.

Leah’s precious spirit isn’t here anymore; but, that doesn’t mean that my love for her toggles into the off position. It’s not that easy even with romantic love after it all goes to Hell in a handbasket. (And how many times have I wished that it was a toggle!?) I still love Leah and always will. She was a wonderful woman. My dear friend Joey died over 21 years ago. My friend Sandy died seven years ago. I still love them and think of them daily. Of course it’s different than it was when they were alive because love among the living can be nurtured and allowed to grow. Now, I love memories of my friends. Love for memories cannot grow. Its light dims to a comfortable glow. I’m not sure that “dims” is the right work here, but I think you know what I mean. The love doesn’t diminish – it doesn’t disappear, but it may not burn as brightly as it once did.

The conversation with my father reminded me of a scene from the movie Phenomenon. John Travolta’s character George is dying. Kyra Sedgwick’s character Lace is sitting with him. They have this exchange:

  • Lace: I tried so hard not to love you.
  • George: How’d you make out?
  • Lace: Terrible.
  • George: Hey, would you, uh, love me the rest of my life?
  • Lace: No. I’m gonna love you for the rest of mine.

Corny as it might sound, that’s how it is. When we love someone, we don’t love them until they die. We love them until we do.

 

 

 

 

There is Always a Storm Brewing

Last week was great! I was on a roll, writing every day, feeling better, taking control of my diet and my environment. I was tapping my toes humming “On the Sunny Side of the Street.” I didn’t see the storm cell building.  Friday morning, I was blinded by a bolt of lightning in the form of a 6:39 AM text from my father, “Leah has had a massive stroke.” I was deafened by the thunder clap of a later message, “Does not look good.”

Daddy and Leah were childhood friends and classmates. Like it happens, they lost touch after high school. In the last decade or so, they reconnected and got to know the adult versions of the childhood friends. They fell in love.

 

My father and sister spent Friday at the hospital in Memphis. I joined them on Saturday. Showers were intermittent until about 2:30 AM on Sunday morning when this precious woman breathed her last. The deluge began and continues.

The events of the last few days have generated a great many thoughts I’ll be sharing with you over the coming days. Most of them have nothing to do with food; however, we will certainly be talking about emotional eating and the triggers for it. And, we will be talking more about the little girl in this photo. We will talk about Hays and her confidence in the face of the storm.

I’ve never envied a child more.

 

 

Say Good-Bye to My Buns

… and my biscuits and my pancakes and my baguettes.

I’m so bummed.

Almost exactly a year ago, on July 13th, I told you about my sister’s discovery that when she eats wheat, her knees hurt her more. I felt really sad for her that she could no longer enjoy bread without pain. Then I ate a sandwich.  Well, harumph! Guess what I discovered this week after just four days of eating clean. Yep, my knees don’t hurt nearly as badly and I haven’t eaten wheat since Monday.

Obviously, different people react to different foods in different ways (is that like using a double negative? did I cancel out a couple of those ‘different’s?). It’s chemistry. However, for many, wheat ingestion causes inflammation. As of when I woke today, I’m thinking that I am one of the many and I’m not at all happy about it.

On the up side, knowing the cause is most of the battle, right? If I know that wheat consumption makes my joints swell, then it’s like the old Henny Youngman joke:

  • Patient: Doctor, it hurts when I do that.
  • Doctor: Then don’t do that.

contorted catIt’s just that simple and it’s just that difficult. Stay away from wheat.

As anyone who has gone gluten-free or tried to go gluten-free can tell you, that stuff is just everywhere! It’s hidden in all kinds of prepared foods. Probably the easiest way to avoid it is to shop on the outside aisles of the grocery store, except the one that runs by the bakery, that doesn’t count. But, if you stay on the outside aisles, you stay near the perishables and away from the non-perishables. And, let’s just think about that for a minute. I really have to think twice about consuming something that claims to be non-perishable. With some notable exceptions like honey, the idea of food that doesn’t spoil is just horrifying.

I nixed baked goods from my diet this week, not because I had any suspicion that they caused me discomfort, but because most baked goods also contain sugar and are calorie dense. I knew that I needed to focus on eating plenty of vegetables and fruit this week.  At this point, my suspicion that wheat omission has made my joints less creaky is just that: a suspicion. In a couple of weeks, I will test my theory; but, for now, I’m operating on the assumption that my theory is correct. Even so, just like I do with the milk products I’m allergic to, when the cost is worth it, I’ll indulge in a cookie, pancakes or something. I will just have to want it badly enough to put up with the pain the treat brings.

Isn’t that kind of a common theme for most of our discussions on food choices? We have to focus on eating those things that provide our bodies with the clean fuel it needs to operate and with the supplies it needs for repairing itself. And from time to time, only occasionally, when we really, really want it, we have to allow ourselves to grab our buns.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your Own Carnegie Hall

Of course you know the old joke of the tourist who asks the musician how to get to Carnegie Hall. The musician replies, “Practice, practice, practice!” For the musician, preparation is key.  The same thing is true of your own personal Carnegie Hall, whether that’s losing weight, feeling better, or being healthier – prepare, prepare, prepare!

Yesterday, I shared some veggie photos and some of the habits that helped me be successful losing 94 pounds two years ago. Like I do, I got lazy, though, and strayed from those habits. As a result, I’ve gained a little bit of weight – around seven pounds – and I feel a lot more “gummed up.”

Now, if you’re anything like I was at the start of my personal journey, you just read “seven pounds” and said, “girl, pleeze!” Here’s an interesting thing I discovered on the healthier end of the weight scale and on the smaller end of the clothing scale: smaller numbers matter. When I was a size 20, I could gain seven pounds and barely feel it. My clothes still fit and I didn’t feel any worse than before since I already felt pretty crappy. At a size six, seven pounds make an enormous difference. Those pounds put me into an eight or even a ten for some items. And I feel every single pound. I feel bloated, puffy, uncomfortable, and, yes, fat.

That’s another thing, whether it’s seven ounces, seven pounds, or seventy pounds – when you feel fat, you feel fat. The feeling is exactly the same. That was truly a surprise for me.

10496177_10153025303969741_4478579920978344705_oAnyway, back to my point: the biggest habit to develop for yourself is to prepare. If I have peppers, tomatoes, and squash already cut up sitting there, I’m more likely to reach for them when I want something to go in my hummus; thus, I’m more likely to eat both the veggies and the hummus than I am to run to the store for chips. If I already have peppers and onions sautéed, I’m more likely to eat that roasted Portobello or that grilled, lean chicken breast – both of which are also already prepared. Those are at the ready and just need to be heated; so, why make the trek to Wendy’s? No need.

As a culture, we are all about easy and quick. Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but eating right isn’t really all that easy or quick. However, it can be easier. It can be quicker. When we take a few hours, one day a week to plan and do some basic prep work for our meals for the whole week, we give ourselves a much greater chance of success.

You’re too busy? It costs too much?

What? You’re not worth the investment of a few hours of your own time? So fast food, diabetes and illness are less expensive than eating healthfully?

Girl, pleeze!

Thoughts about everything and nothing in an effort to be a better person than I was yesterday.