R2D31

I just finished Whole30, which is a 30-day commitment to not consume any sugar, alcohol, grain, dairy, soy, or legumes. What does that leave? Veggies, meat, fish, fruit, nuts, and more veggies.

This is the second time I’ve completed this endeavor. The first time was two years ago, and I wrote about it with the breathless enthusiasm of somebody discovering how to eat “real” food for the first time.

This time, I was a little more cynical.

I’d been around this block, and I knew where I ended up. I kept a few of my Whole30 habits, like ditching artificial sweetener, but I skipped the part about reintroducing foods slowly and celebrated my first weekend off the program with pizza and moscato and maybe some ice cream.

I know.

It took me two years to muster up the courage to try again. I knew there was a kernel of magic in this program, something that I wasn’t finding in my attempts at weight loss through calorie counting and carb cutting and intense exercise. I remembered the peace and well-being.

I also remembered the things that were hard last time: the days of physical withdrawal punctuated by crushing headaches. The social isolation. That time I cried in IKEA because I was hangry and I couldn’t eat anything there and I didn’t know which bookshelf I wanted and why was I foolish enough to go to IKEA on a Saturday along with 40,000 other people?

I started with some skills up my sleeve. I knew the lingo; R2D2 is not just a droid, but also Whole30 shorthand for “Round 2, Day 2.” I had favorite recipes on Pinterest and Lara Bars in my pantry. I had an Instant Pot, and I knew how to use it.

My secret weapon is my husband Sam, who would never post a blog like this, but was 100% committed to Whole30 and knocked this thing out of the park.

What we did

We cooked really tasty food. Our kitchen was simmering with fragrant coconut milk curries, veggie-laden soups, and tender roasts falling apart in the Instant Pot.

The kids ate the same dinners as us 90% of the time, with an occasional hot dog night when we were eating something too far outside their comfort zones (or I didn’t want to share the bacon-wrapped scallops). They tried new recipes and fell in love with kalua pork, Felix dubbing himself the Pork Monster. 

It was easier than I remembered. The headache lasted one day instead of five, I felt more energy by the end of the first week, and I knew to stay away from IKEA.

We didn’t cut ourselves off from fun. Friday cocktail night became Friday Netflix night. Saturdays, we went out to dinner with friends. It felt strange at first to order grilled fish and unsweetened tea while our friends enjoyed burgers and bourbon, or tacos and margaritas, but these outings are about the company. We talked, we laughed, and we woke up without hangovers the next day.

Sam and I learned an important lesson from last time. We didn’t think of October 5 as the end, but the beginning of our next healthy chapter. We had long, thoughtful conversations about which pre-Whole30 foods and behaviors we’d welcome back into our lives, which ones we’d enjoy in moderation, and which ones we are tossing overboard. Friday cocktail night is special enough to bring back, but vodka soda is the default drink instead of sugary cocktails. Ice cream is a thing we occasionally take the kids out for, not a staple we keep in our freezer. Pizza is a once-a-month treat instead of a weekly one, and only the good stuff. Frozen pizza is dead to us.


My results

I lost 13 pounds and reduced my waist by 4 inches. I can’t fit into any aspirational jeans and my body doesn’t look remarkably different, but I can see a change in my face.

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My complexion is where my Whole30 results are the most obvious. I took this “Look how tired I don’t look” selfie at the end of a long work day, when I was still feeling fresh and bright.

#nofilter

The biggest benefits aren’t visible from the outside. My energy is steady, and I don’t crash in the afternoons anymore. The mental fog has lifted and I’m able to think through things – including my own emotions – with focus and clarity. I feel present in my body in a way that I didn’t before.



Fixing my nutrition didn’t fix my life. But it's a start.

I haven’t felt like my shiny, sunny self for several months. My summer trip to Poland was a bright spot, but I fell into a darker place after returning home. I can’t point to a single thing that’s causing this, but a combination of emotions stirred up by turning 40 next year, parenting a pre-teen, writing a World War II novel, witnessing the American political and cultural climate, and trying to figure out how I want to live in this world.

We all have things that we use to fill the holes in ourselves. Some people exercise, some people buy things they don’t need, some people do drugs. I eat. Food is my shortcut to pleasure, followed by regret and shame. It’s an emotional roller coaster that distracts me from real issues that are trickier to sort out.

Eating vegetables and meat for a month didn’t solve my problems, but it did give me the mental clarity to better understand them.


The first time I did Whole30, I felt triumphant. I wouldn’t use that word to describe myself today.

After Round 2, I feel awake. I feel self-aware. I feel ready to move forward.

Why I run races (which I have no hope of winning)

"I hope you win!" my daughter said the first time I told her I was running a race. I laughed. 

A more realistic goal is to finish without injury, and to not delay the people picking up the traffic cones. 

I'm slow. I'm overweight. I'm not especially competitive.

So why do I run races?

1. It pushes me.

I sign up for races months ahead of time, because I love the forward momentum of training.

"I'm training for a half marathon" has been my reason to schedule running dates with myself, to pack sneakers on business trips, to veer off my familiar trail, to download new playlists, and to push past my comfort zone. These actions aren't just making me a better runner; they're making me better. 

Code Red

The first time, it seemed unusual. “Psst… Code Red!” “What?” “Over there!”

As I walked toward the locker room at my gym, I heard whispering from a group of teenage employees who were folding towels. The words “Code Red” sounded serious, but their expressions were decidedly not.

The second time, it seemed personal. “Code Red, locker room.” I looked over my shoulder, and one girl and two boys were huddled, whispering, giggling.

I don’t know if “Code Red” is my nickname (due to hair color, perhaps?) or if it’s their secret phrase for people whose appearance they find amusing, but I walked away convinced that the teens were making fun of me. There’s plenty to make fun of: I’m overweight and awkward, even though I’ve been working out regularly for years. I wear silly, colorful headbands. I do not fear the brutal honesty of leggings.

And yet, those kids cut me down. For a moment, they made me feel like my 14-year-old self who signed up for summer school gym so that I could avoid the judgmental stares of my classmates.

My Whole30 Odyssey: I ate real food for 30 days; here's what happened.

Have you ever been in a relationship that makes you miserable, in which you consistently make terrible choices, but you're unable to detach because I love him! or She's my best friend! - and then you finally take some time apart, see the situation with clarity, and realize you were being a fool?

Do you ever run so many programs on your computer that it starts slowing down, crashing, whirring, and the only solution is to hold down the power button, wait a long minute, and start fresh?

These two metaphors come to mind as I reflect on the last month. My toxic relationship was with food, and my body was the tired computer that needed a hard reboot.

I had gained 20 pounds in 6 months. Some of it was residue of a fun summer of travel and socializing. Some of it was due to mindless snacking and joyless overeating. All of it combined to make me feel tired, run-down, and defeated. I wanted someone to tell me exactly what to do, and so I turned to this program I'd heard rave reviews about.

My Whole30: A View From Day 8

A week ago, I began a month-long odyssey known as Whole30. No sugar, grain, dairy, legumes, or alcohol. No artificial sweeteners, chemicals, or heavily processed food.

If you're the sort of person who's interested in other people's eating habits, you're probably thinking one of three things:

a. Rock on. I tried this/heard about this/eat like this every day.

b. That sounds vaguely interesting, but also impossible, because I'd never be able to give up ___.

c. What is wrong with you?? Giving up entire food groups? That's insane.

The first time I heard about the Whole30, my reaction was firmly c. I grew up with four food groups, in a world where bread was wholesome and milk-drenched bowls of cereal were "part of a complete breakfast."

The uneventful miles

"You could totally bike that."

A coworker, whom I've never met, posted those words to me on a discussion forum 2 months ago. I work in downtown Minneapolis and live in an outer suburb, separated by 25 miles of busy freeways.

I am the highly suggestible type, and positive reinforcement works very well on me. That's why, today, I had a 2-hour, zero-emission, 1400-calorie-burning commute home.

After my coworker's bold assertion, I sent away for a map (a paper one!) of the awe-inspiring Hennepin County trail system. With the exception of a few blocks of city streets and a short jaunt near my house, I could make the entire trip on designated bike trails, safe from cars.

Why I run (even when I'm not being chased, or about to miss a bus)

For most of my life, I loathed running. I was the chubby, asthmatic kid who was the last to finish laps in gym class. As the workouts got tougher, I showed up at school with an inhaler and notes written on my dad's prescription pad: Monica cannot run.

I could walk for miles, but as soon as I raised my pace to a jog, my chest would burn, I'd gasp for air, and I'd feel a stabbing pain in my side.

Why do people make a hobby out of this? I wondered.

Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's stress.

This morning, I attended a seminar at my gym about stress. As the presenter started listing off the health conditions caused or exacerbated by stress, I felt like she was describing my personal list of woes: Weight gain, belly fat, carb cravings, feeling tired, irritability, mood swings.

I haven't felt like myself for the last few months. The best version of me is positive, health-conscious, and happy. I still remember what it's like to feel that way, and I can bring bursts of it, but lately I have felt duller, tired, like a fog is hanging over me. Sometimes, I chalk it up to the cold weather and lack of sunshine. Sometimes, I blame external situations like work and busy schedules. "I'll feel better when ___ is over," I tell myself.

Soggy shoes and nude pantyhose: the curse of the Midwestern optimist

I am not good at waiting for things.

I take brownies out of the oven while they're still gooey.

I touch things before my nail polish is dry.

I believe that Christmas gifts may be opened anytime in the Decemberish season.

Waiting for spring is very, very hard for me, especially after a winter like this one.

At first, the extreme cold was entertaining. 

Commitment (or why I'm going to run 3.1 miles in the freezing cold)

Tomorrow, I’m going to run the Commitment Day 5k at the same time as thousands of people across the country.

I’ve never been a runner. I’m the chubby kid who finished last in every gym class race, I’m the lady who pants and puffs on an inhaler if I have to run one block to catch my bus home.

I signed up because, through a surprising and wonderful turn of events, I found myself in the marketing campaign:

10 Things I've Learned About Weight Loss

1. I am good at losing weight. I've had at least a dozen successful weight loss efforts in the last 20 years. The trouble is, I am equally successful - perhaps more so - at gaining weight and have done it exactly as many times. At least I'm starting with a solid foundation of knowledge and experience.

2. I thrive on competition and social reinforcement. I like attention. I like it when people notice my weight loss. I still carry the keychain I earned at Weight Watchers for losing 10% of my starting weight. I'll even share my "before" photos on Facebook. Perhaps this is why my weight loss efforts tend to sputter out and lose energy farther down the road. What happens when I reach my goal weight and the fun of losing is gone? This time, I think I'll enter some fitness competitions or maybe even take up a sport.

I could do better.

I haven't blogged much recently. I can blame the demands of working, caring for two kids, trying to get into shape, playing Facebook games, and whatever other endeavors swallow my time and attention - but the truth is, there's something else, too. Ideas pop into my mind, sentences form, and then I second-guess myself. I worry that my words, once typed, won't sound right. I worry that the ideas I found compelling in my mind won't be interesting to anyone else. I worry that someone, perhaps myself, will read my blog and think "Meh, I could do better."