‘Is That all You’re Eating?’
Usually I cringe at commentary about my food choices. Truly, how and what I feed myself is no one’s business but my own. But with this comment, I had to consider the source. It was coming from two friends who know me in a way that not many people do. But beyond just knowing me, they know the struggles I’ve faced because they’ve faced them too.
I’ve made my thoughts on food pretty clear. Everything in moderation. No heavy restrictions. Just make smart choices and the weight will come off. I said these were my ideals, but was I living them? Did my actions speak as loud as my words.
When I discussed in detail about what and how much I was eating with Anna and Brenna, it became clear that I wasn’t fueling my body properly. I was eating like a dieter and not like an athlete. Although never my intention, I had slowly become restrictive, a calorie hoarder, scared to eat too much at any one meal. I set myself up for a vicious cycle of restrict, binge, repeat. This left me physically uncomfortable but worse, mentally I was a damn wreck. My eating was so in control (too in control?) until Thursday or Friday hit and it became a downward spiral. My weekend binges weren’t a result of celebrating with friends or giving in to temptation but were an attempt to hoard food because, come Monday, I would again attempt to live, work, and train off 1,200 calories a day.
So I hashed it out. I made a plan. But let me tell you, it’s hard to stop overly restricting when you barely realize you’re doing it in the first place. I didn’t break ground on some new revolutionary eating plan. I’m not reinventing the wheel here. But the past two weeks I have been making a conscious effort to eat more and more consistently. To fuel my body the way it should be fueled when running 30 miles a week. And after two weeks, I’ve got enough of a grasp on the results to comment.
I feel better. I’m less distracted at work. I don’t constantly think about food. The scale is moving down. I’m more flexible with my food choices. My workouts are stronger. I’m cooking more because I’ve silenced the quiet urge to keep every meal under 300 calories.
But best of all, I feel a million times less bat shit crazy than I have over the past few months. And even if I never lose another pound, this feeling of normalcy, of sanity, is worth it.
