Tag Archives: body and soul

Nourished Life Gratitude List Week Five

Posted on by

2

I cannot believe how quickly the last week has blown by. I sat down this afternoon to write this gratitude post and tried to reflect on the little moments over the past seven days; I was stunned by just how fast the time seemed to have past since I wrote last week’s post.

This week is sure to be just as busy, and we don’t have a public holiday in the middle of the week to act as a mini-weekend. But there are so many great things that I am looking forward to: my 10.5 km long run tomorrow morning (only 10 weeks until the Gold Coast Half Marathon now), creative non-fiction class on Tuesday night, manuscript-writing time on Wednesday night, and my darling Chris’s birthday party on Saturday night (just wait until you see my costume in next Sunday’s post…).

Now, I am off to do some assignment planning, so without further ado I present this week’s Nourished Life Gratitude List:

Monday: Great long run and a blue autumn sky that made me want to fall into the great forever.

I couldn't stop staring at how beautiful the sky has been this week.

I couldn’t stop staring at how beautiful the sky has been this week.

Tuesday: A chance to speak blog with a fellow Brisbane blogger (go and check out Alle’s gorgeous blog!), and a meeting with my academic hero who offered to supervise my Master’s Dissertation!

Wednesday: Taco night with Mum, Dad, and Chris. Melty, melty, cheese and spicy beans – life is good.

Thursday: Attended the Dawn Service with my loved ones. Deep gratitude to the men and women who served and continue to serve so that we are able to enjoy the freedoms we do today. Also, grateful for a big midday nap and making the smile on my darling’s face when I made chocolate chip pancakes for brunch.

Apparently, they were pretty good.

Apparently, they were pretty good.

Friday: Grateful for a cranky-pants-busting interval run followed by an intense weights session. Cruised on endorphins and a gluten-free whoopie pie induced sugar high for the rest of the night. I promise I’ll share the recipe very soon!

Oh yes, gluten-free whoopie pies. Recipe coming soon.

Oh yes, gluten-free whoopie pies. Recipe coming soon.

Saturday: A surprise bunch of flowers from my beloved Chris. A lovely, lovely treat to come home to on a Saturday morning.

Aren't they beautiful! I am a lucky woman.

Aren’t they beautiful! I am a lucky woman.

Sunday: Study day with good company and a beautiful view of my flowers.

And there we have another grateful wrap-up of this week.

Tell me, dear reader, what is something you have been grateful for this week? Any unexpectedly lovely things that have happened in the past seven days?

Do You Know Hungry?

Posted on by

1

Note: this is a long, long, post. I felt like I needed to dig into my heart and lay it on the page today. The pictures really don’t have anything to do with the text, but I couldn’t post this much text without some visual break up. If you make it to the end, thank you.

Some days I get Hungry. Not hungry, but Hungry with a capital ‘H’. These are the days when I stand in the kitchen and I can’t consume enough. I snack on all sorts of little things that hide in the corners of kitchen cupboards: the last few crumbs of a batch of cookies, carrot sticks dipped in cottage cheese/peanut butter/dijon mustard, the dregs of the tinned corn from last night’s dinner, a piece of soft Danish feta squished between two rice crackers. The list goes on. If it’s not tied down, I will pick at it in the hope of shutting down the Hungry.

IMG_0982

Usually though, this Hunger isn’t the type that can be cured by food; it’s the type that is only cured by nourishment of other kinds: books, music, conversation, deep-soul mining.

I eat because when I am chewing, focusing on each delicious morsel that goes into my mouth, I can ignore the thoughts and decisions banging on the door that separates my subconscious mind from my conscious mind. Problems, decisions, choices, and confusion are lost in the salty-sweet pairing of roasted almonds stuffed inside plump dates, or the umami notes of Danish feta and green olives that leave my fingers deliciously oily and lick-able.

I eat to avoid the fact that I am scared. Scared that I love being back at university again, and at the end of the year I will graduate again and face the prospect of having to hunt for a full-time job. Scared that I am losing myself in love again and I don’t know where the future may take us. Scared to just enjoy the ride and see what happens. Scared that I am becoming different, growing older, facing the big decisions that come about when you are on the bridge between twenty and thirty.

I spoon out portions of chocolate ice cream in the abandoned kitchen while I wait for the tea to draw to keep down the worry that thrums in my veins some nights like a hummingbird on the wing. The worry that I will never find a job. The worry that I am a burden on those around me, that I am a negative force in their lives, a dark spot over their sun. I worry that I am Peter Pan in Wendy’s body and fated to eternal immaturity while others grow-up, move on, make life their own.

IMG_1486

I count pistachio shells as I pop the pockets of salty green flesh into my mouth just to avoid acknowledging decisions that I have already made. The decision to stay, to face life, to put away my running-away shoes (not my running shoes though). The decision to leave, to take Plan B. The decision to see where this hometown life can take me. The decision to put myself out there, make myself available, vulnerable, to the universe.

This is where Hungry grows. Hungry is denial of my true feelings. Hungry is the craven way out of facing my fears. Hungry is refusal to speak my worries and see them disbanded by wiser minds. Hungry is the distracting temptation of safe ground when leaping off the edge may be the best thing to do.

I have battled Hungry my whole life. She is a not-so-welcome friend, the visitor in the dead of night who refuses to leave, the envoy of depression and regression. I know her well now. I know her knock at the door. I know the steps in her dance. Some days I let her in. She’s not so bad after all. Denial can be a happy place.

IMG_1821

Then, I remember. Hungry never helps when things get tough. Hungry just keeps on asking more. Hungry never answers my deepest questions, she skims on the surface and laughs at a tortured soul. Hungry mocks a life that is trying to be thoroughly nourished.

When I sense Hungry is around, grasping at me, winding her fingers through mine and tugging me towards the cookie jar again, I know the way to battle against her and return to my thoroughly nourished path.

Write: a journal, a laptop, a scrap of paper – whatever it is, just write until my true feelings show up and I can confront them on and off the page.

Talk: to wiser minds, to the dog, to my own reflection. Make audible to the air the voices that are chanting in my mind.

Cry: when all else fails, when the emotions are too big to name, sometimes salt water is the only cure.

Sleep: rest your body, rest your mind. Often when you awaken the biggest worry-elephants have shrunken to the size of a flea.

Walk: or run, or swim, or skip rope. Use the frustration as fuel. Let the worries flow through your mind while your heartbeat races through your body. Sometimes there are answers on the road. Sometimes there is just peace in the pace of your footfall.

And so there it is: when I am hungry, I will eat; when I am Hungry, I will seek comfort and nourishment without abusing my body with food.

I take Hungry’s appearance as a call to care for myself, to step back for a moment, realign with my true self, and just breathe. To find out what she is really trying to tell me, where I am missing something, and commit to living my nourished life.

Tell me, dear Reader, does Hungry show up for you? Does your Hungry have a different name, another way of tempting you away from a thoroughly nourished life?

Stages of Grief for a Race Not Run

Posted on by

8

This past week I have faced a difficult decision. After quite a lot of thought and conversations with my nearest and dearest, I have come to the conclusion not to line up for the race I was supposed to take part in next weekend. When I found out The Twilight Run was taking place on my actual birthday this year I got so excited. I saw a wonderful way to declare to myself that the changes I have made to my life, this identity I have created and hold so close, is really a part of me – permanently.

You'll find me here if you really need me...

You’ll find me here if you really need me…

Over the past few weeks though, I have been struggling with my running. I have been fatigued (iron depletion and a funky thyroid will do that to a girl), generally worn out, and my breathing has been giving me difficulty. I became conscious of the ever-approaching time to line up at the starting line on the 24th of March, and the expectation from myself that of course I would be racing, no matter what. Upon reflection I can see that I had already accepted that I wouldn’t be running, and I was in fact going through some variation of the Five Stages of Grief – Runner Style.

First Stage: Denial. I thought that if I just kept plodding along, limping through my runs, taking breaks to catch my breath again, and then napping whenever I could, that I would break through the fatigue barrier and come out feeling stronger and better than before.

Second Stage: Anger. After moving through the denial of my problem I became angry. Angry at my body for letting me down when I take generally good care of it. Angry at the fact that only two months ago I completed a half marathon and now I was struggling through a 4 mile slow run. Angry at myself for having so broadly advertised that I was going to take part in the race on my birthday, and now I had to back out.

Third Stage: Bargaining. I bargained with myself. Maybe if I just ran slowly. Maybe if I decreased my training a little I would feel like I would be able to complete the race more. If I just sucked it up and got on with it I wouldn’t have a problem.

Fourth Stage: Depression. I must admit that this one was more about my expectation that the people around me would be disappointed that I wasn’t running. That I had made this big claim that I was going to race on my birthday, and now I was backing out. What a silly girl. My family and friends support my running, but it is not central to their love for me. They would love me either way.

Fifth Stage: Acceptance. Now I realise that I have made the right decision for my body. I have realised that I need to heal myself first. Take a pause. Nourish my body to give it the best chance of recovering to 100%. Take a deep breath and focus on my university work, my family, and my wonderful boyfriend. Go for long walks. Take my training for the Gold Coast Half Marathon in July very slowly so that my body doesn’t get worn out.

Mooloolaba

Mooloolaba

So, instead of lining up next Sunday I am going to spend a few days at the Sunshine Coast with my darling Chris, see a movie and have dinner with my family, and then perhaps take a sojourn down the coast on Sunday the 24th. When I stand on the beach with the waves lapping at my feet I will take a deep breath, and promise myself that 26 means listening to my body more, and re-affirming the practices of living a thoroughly nourished life.

I also have to thank Kate for her brave post  last week about taking a break from running. It definitely gave me cause to think over my decision.

(P.S. I didn’t write this to play the sympathy card, I promise, more to verbalise the thoughts I had internalised over the past week).

Dear Readers, have you ever had to make the decision to pull out of something you had already signed up for? Any grief to walk away from something that was supposed to be fun?

This is the New Year, and a new beginning

Posted on by

3

Hello, is this thing on?

Tap…tap….

Oh, there you are!

Hello everyone (sheepish grin and ducking of head implied)…I’m back in the digital world and ready for the new year. I hope you all had a safe and merry Christmas, and hopeful, champagne-filled new year celebrations.

2012 was a restful year for this lady, and as the sun bid farewell to the 2012 summer sky I took a deep breath and realised that I am ready for a vibrant, busy, hectically-scheduled 2013: bring on the adventures, the multi-tasking and the candle-burning.

For me New Year’s Eve was spent in the company of family and friends who I consider my family enjoying food and wine and conversation. By midnight I was back home and when the fireworks began I was wrapped in the arms of a new adventure. A new beginning. My someone special.

My life is even more nourished by his presence.

Beach just after dawn

Mooloolaba, Queensland

Now that the scotch glasses, chocolate wrappers, and Scrabble board have been cleared away and the house has had a new year clean to chase out the dust of the old year, I can sit back and ponder my goals for the next twelve months. 2013 is an open book. Blank pages of days spread out before me. This year I vow to pick up the pen, to dash out lines on every page, to scribble and doodle in the margins, write longhand letters and post-it note lists, to draw out every word that hides and lurks and tumbles about in my mind and use them to colour my life.

I have rested enough. I am recharged, and ready to come out of hibernation.

Over a cup of green tea this evening I plotted out some of the big things that I would like to achieve in 2013: ways to nourish my mind, body, and soul over the next year.

 Thoroughly nourished mind:

  • Finish my Masters in Writing, Editing, and Publishing
  • Write, and write, and write, and write!! (followed by edit, edit, edit, edit, and submit, submit, submit)

 Thoroughly nourished body:

  • Run three half marathons
    • January 13th – Cadbury Half Marathon (it’s getting so close!)
    • July – Gold Coast Half Marathon (hopefully with some of my favourite Aussie blogger ladies)
    • The third is yet to be decided, but perhaps Melbourne?
  • Run a race on my birthday: the Twilight 10km is actually on my birthday this year! What a great way to usher in 26!
  • Make a concerted effort to eat more iron-rich vegetarian foods (more on this soon)

Thoroughly nourished soul:

  • Find some way to reach out in my community
  • Schedule regular dates and dinner parties with my friends and family
  • Bring delicious, diverse food to the table and share the recipes with you, dear readers
Just after dawn

Just after dawn

These are the larger picture goals that I would like to achieve this year, and there are so many other little bits and pieces I am longing to achieve and share with you all. I feel as though 2012 was a year for me to regain myself after a whirlwind 2011 that tore at the fibres of my being and forced me to grow rather quickly. 2012 was a year to celebrate the people around me, to share in their joy and special days. 2012 was a year of learning: academic and personal. 2012 was a year to make new friends too (hello my special lovelies – Kate, Cait, Jenelle, and Julia, among others). 2012 was the year that I reminded myself, just like Dorothy, that there really is no place like home.

Here is to 2013, to new adventures, to friends and family, new beginnings, distant roads, and hearts that will always guide us home.

So, dear reader, what new beginnings are you looking forward to in 2013?

My relationship with food: Fear of food (the mental)

Posted on by

10

My wonderful friends in blog world, and in the real world too, I realise I promised you the whole story about my relationship with food and my body and that I still have two (well three really) parts to go.

Thank you to everyone who continues to comment on these posts, on the things that I reveal in the stories that I tell, and to my family who (even though they lived through all of this) still give me hugs anew whenever they finish reading another of these posts.

When I discovered fitness all over again in my last post, we might have all thought that my journey to a healthier relationship with food was nearing a happier, more balanced, end.

However, like many relationships in life, there was another difficult period just over the hill.

When I discovered ways to help myself enjoy exercise, and stopped using food as a panacea for pain in my life, I lost weight.

Then I slipped a little the other way.

I became afraid of food.

Me. Afraid of food.

Real food. Treat food. In-between food.

All of it.

Afraid that somehow, magically, that piece of cake I ate on the weekend would turn into body weight overnight and I would be back at the beginning of this whole adventure.

Afraid that if I varied my diet too much I would lose all control and end up bingeing at midnight again.

Afraid of peanut butter. Afraid of butter. Afraid of full fat anything.

While I was losing weight I used calorie counting to help me with ensuring that I was meeting my goals. Certainly a great method for losing weight, and as a dietitian something I assist my patients with when they are trying to lose weight and eat more sensibly.

What is not healthy is seeing that number and deciding that it should always be lower, that you don’t really need to refuel after a tough workout, that you can keep cutting portions down and down. That you should always be searching for a food that fits a mathematical equation rather than what fits into what your body really needs in the moment: the food that will satisfy, soothe, and nourish.

I am not sure exactly what helped me to snap out of this part. It may have been looking at glorious food books and blogs and wanting just wanting too much to go to the party rather than always look in the window. It may have been watching the way my little sister allows herself treats a few times per week and has stayed the same weight nearly her whole adult life.

It may have been realising that I was telling my patients to not be so harsh on themselves, and that I needed to practice what I was preaching.

It may have been signing up for a half marathon and realising that you can’t keep cutting down on fuel when your body needs you to take care of it and eat enough so that it can last the distance. It may have been reading Michael Pollan and wanting to respect and love food that much.

So, somehow through a combination of all of the above I started bringing food back into my life.

I realised that there is real food, treat food, and in-between food.

Sometimes a cookie counts as all of the above.

I realised that I needed to just let go. To listen to my body. To nourish myself, not punish myself, with my food choices.

To look at this as a whole- life thing not an in- the-moment thing.

Let go of the fear of butter. Let go of the fear of a non-measured meal. Let go of uber-low-fat-no-flavour “foods”.

You can’t spend your whole life, three times a day, being afraid of the plate in front of you.

So, I let go of the fear and embraced the food.

Nourished Summer Days

Posted on by

4

When Jessica and I were wandering along on a hot summer morning recently it dawned on me that we are now quickly approaching the official beginning of summer. Someone must have forgotten to tell the weather that we are still in spring though, because our temperatures are already flirting with summer heat. Being a student with a part time position in a research centre I will have excess time on my hands when summer comes around. Being me, vast quantities of time that lack direction play havoc with my mental health. I need goals. I need a little bit of direction, or at least a purpose in my wandering. I need to feel that I have worked to nourish every part of myself.

I think Margaret Thatcher put it best:

“Look at a day when you are supremely satisfied at the end. It’s not a day when you lounge around doing nothing; it’s a day you’ve had everything to do and you’ve done it”.

Next year when I look back at this coming summer I want to feel that those warm long days meant something, that I built something under the sunshine and stars, and have memories that satisfy my summer longings when winter rolls around again.

So, I made a list:

  • Have a weekend away at the beach before (one of) my best friend’s wedding
  • Do the Cape Byron Lighthouse walk
  • Go to the Queensland Art Gallery and Gallery of Modern Art
  • Make a blueberry pie
  • Go to a session of the open air cinema
  • Spend a day as a tourist in my own city
  • Preserve some of the summer harvest for next winter: jam? peaches? tomato sauce?
  • Go for a run in the rain
  • Try my hand at making ice cream
  • Explore some exciting writing opportunities…

For my southern hemisphere friends, what are your plans for summer this year? Any suggestions for me? And, my northern hemisphere friends, how will you be making the most of your winter days?

7 ‘Heal thyself’ tips for a spring cold

Posted on by

5

The first draft of this post was basically a whinge about not being able to train this week because of the flu. Um, reality check on a page much? So I highlighted and hit delete when I realised that it really isn’t healthy to be that self-indulgent about a little cold. Yep, major ‘first world problemitis’ over here. Especially after writing my affirmation to carpe diem.

So, I highlighted, hit delete, and started with a blank page. I decided that a positively charged list of how I plan to thoroughly nourish myself through this temporary immune system failure so that I can get back on (the) track as fast as possible.

Tip Number 1: No guilt!

I am absolutely fabulous at talking myself into feeling guilty when I am sick and can’t stick to a training schedule. This time I have decided that I will support my body rather than beat myself up. There is no point in feeling guilty, and I am a firm believer that our thoughts influence our actions and in turn our health so I am taking guilt off the table and just focusing on getting better, faster.

Tip Number 2: Rest

This one goes hand in hand with the first tip. This morning I slept in until 8am. I do not sleep in until 8am – ever. I love the mornings, the quiet before other people begin to wake. The first jump on the morning. Making the most of every hour between rising and retiring. However, rest is one of the most important ways to nourish a body that is fighting off germs. So no guilt about some extra shut-eye.

Tip Number 3: Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate

Coughing, spluttering, sneezing, and feverish sweating all deplete our bodies of water. So guzzle down H2O and brew yourself some green tea to keep yourself nourished with fluids while you are sick. This also helps to keep you feeling a little less muzzy-headed as well.

Tip Number 4: Healing foods

I eat a lot of vegetables already. In fact, I think 50% of the produce that comes into this house ends up on my dinner plate. I am also one of those people who doesn’t stop eating when she feels sick, if anything, I feel more like eating vegetables and Vitamin-C packed foods and less like eating sugary snack foods. Correct nutrition can help to boost your immune system, and if you keep eating well despite feeling un-well you will avoid that nasty post-sickness inappropriate comfort food hangover. Choose some seasonally- appropriate comfort food instead, such as:

Spicy chilli chickpea patties – recipe coming!

Tip Number 5: Distraction

Cabin fever. One of the worst side effects of flu-time. I don’t want to go out in public, be Typhoid Mary spreading my germs around, and I don’t really want to be trapped inside all the time. The key is to nourish my mind and soul to distract myself. From catching up on my Google reader to reading some of my favourite newsy-type websites (The Hoopla, Books from The Daily Beast, Arts and Letters Daily, among others), checking out the great new Australian ‘Women’s Fitness’ magazine or indulging in the September issues of both Elle and Vogue USA. Keeping my mind well-occupied is a step on the road to recovery.

Tip Number 6: Dis-infection

A healthy level of bacteria is okay, but when I am sick and recovering I turn into Sheldon the germaphobe. I wash my sheets, air out my room, change my toothbrush, put my pillows and quilt out on the washing line under the sun for a day, and spray everything that isn’t moving with Glen20 (I jest, I jest…but seriously, watch out Molly…).

Tip Number 7: Sweat

Gentle sweating. Not like my Jillian Michaels workout, 7km run, and 3km dog speed walk the other day. Not a good idea. Gentle walks and healing yoga? Good idea. Just listen to your body and take it slowly. Next week I can start running again. Coupled with my no guilt promise I just remind myself that my next race is 94 days away – not crisis mode yet Amy.

In other news? Good luck and swift feet to my new friend Kate who is running her first marathon this Sunday! Her latest post on becoming a better long distance runner is fantastic – check it out here. Also, fusing two of my passions, fashion and fitness, I ordered a ‘Run Your Fortune‘ shirt from the eternally-talented Cait Chock. I will share my fortune as soon as my shirt arrives!

So, dear readers, what are your ‘heal thyself’ tips? Anyone else who rides the guilt train?

The shouts of many

Posted on by

6

This morning my sister sent me a link  to the story about  Wisconsin news anchor Jennifer Livingston who was contacted by a viewer about her weight and questioned her suitability as a healthy role model for those in her community, and young girls in particular. Her husband is also an anchor on the WKBT network and posted the email on his Facebook wall. Hundreds of people have commented supporting Jennifer and the video has gone viral. This is Jennifer’s full response from the WKBT website.CBS This Morning also covered her story. Check it out here.

After I watched these I sat in silence for a full five minutes just trying to digest all that I had seen, and my reactions both emotional and intellectual. Jennifer’s main statement is that this story is not about her weight this is about bullying, and that bullying is not okay. Ever.

I was bullied at school. I was the chubby kid, the kid with glasses, the ‘teacher’s pet’. I was told by one boy that I should have a ‘wide load’ sticker on my back among other taunts. Luckily I have a very strong family who have taught me to stand up for myself and not let playground taunts define my whole identity. I was also taught that there is much more to a person than the way they look, or the size of their jeans, or the colour of their skin, or who they love. When I left the playground behind those bullies disappeared. I am so blessed that the people who surround me now are positive, encouraging, and life-affirming individuals. I have fought internal bullying, but my family, friends, and colleagues have only ever been a source of support and love.Many others are not so lucky and face bullies at school, at work, and even, sadly, at home. Over the past year alone we have many seen young people who have taken their own lives because of bullying. That is not okay.

Jennifer’s words in response to the bully are powerful; they provide a platform for further action. She says, ‘I am much more than a number on a scale’ and ‘I do a job not worth being critical of my appearance…talk to me about the stories I cover, not about my weight’. Jennifer raises (at least) two important points here. Firstly, we are all so much more than the number that blinks back at us from the bathroom scale; we are more than our quantity of body mass suggests. You cannot measure the weight of someone’s ability to love, their compassion, their humour, their intelligence, on a set of scales. Secondly, for most of us, our potential as people is not determined by what we look like on the outside, but rather our ambition and drive, our capacity to work hard and dedicate our lives to something that is important to us. We aren’t all actors and actresses or models who are vying for positions based on our appearance, and truth be told all those models and actors and actresses are more than their appearance as well – they are people who just happen to look a certain way. Jennifer Livingston is a brilliant news anchor: a position that relies on her ability to analyse what is happening in the world and share information with the public. It doesn’t matter what she looks like, or how much she weighs. In Australia recently our Prime Minister Julia Gillard has been the subject of public comment about the size of her posterior. That is not okay. Who cares about the size of her seat? Her job is to lead Australia and to support our nation, not to be a size 0.

One particular sentence in Jennifer’s editorial especially touched me, and rallied me into writing this today:

‘The cruel words of one are nothing compared to the shouts of many.’

Do you want to be the one, or part of the many? I know that I would rather be part of a chorus of shouts from every corner supporting others. I would rather be joined at the heart with those of a similar conscious who declare ‘that is not okay’ when the one cruel voice decides to drag down, taunt, or shame, their target. I would like to shout out that it doesn’t matter what colour your skin is, who you love, what your clothing size is, what you look like on the outside. What matters is your ability to be the best you and support others to be their best self as well. Every one of us has something that is uniquely special and goals and dreams and hopes that have nothing to do with our external features or sexual preferences and everything to do with how hard we are going to work towards achieving our goals. Let that be the ground upon which we are judged.

Let the shouts of many embrace us. Let the cruel words of a few be lost to the background noise of clapping in support for our fellow human beings.

I feel passion for this, I feel the need to take this further, but for now, dear friends, talk to me.
How can we make this a shout of many?

Fitness and Food

Posted on by

5

Again, thank you to everyone who commented on my last two posts for this series about my relationship with food and my body. This post is much more upbeat I promise you.

As always, please share your thoughts and experiences by leaving me a comment below.

My relationship with food and my body took a turn for the better when I discovered exercise…again.

When I was a child the mere thought of ‘Physical Education’ was enough to have me running to the library crying ‘Sanctuary! Sanctuary!’. I was not, repeat not, a sports-minded child. I am by nature a coordination-challenged person, and have very poor eyesight so any attempt at playing a sport involving coordination and being able to see further away than my own hand usually ended in disaster. Namely, all sports ended in disaster.

So I proceeded through my formative years with an avoidance-based attitude towards all types of physical activity.

High school Amy in sport’s uniform.

We have already talked briefly about my exercise habits in high school, and you might have caught the information that I actually studied exercise physiology in university; however, despite joining a gym with Casey while I was studying, and trying to make exercise a habit, I never really learned to enjoy physical activity.

After allowing myself to mistreat my body I needed to learn to trust myself again. To teach my body that exercise wasn’t punishment. Exercise wasn’t just about burning calories and trying to lose weight so I could fit into an unrealistically-sized pair of jeans. Exercise was a gift I could give to myself (nearly) every day.

When I started working at my current job I was so blessed to be in a position where I was counselling others on setting healthy lifestyle goals in order to lose weight.

Dietitian, heal thyself, right?

I took the opportunity to go back to basics. Just as I was teaching my patients about healthy eating habits and regular physical activity; I was also teaching myself about how to incorporate these into my own life. I had to laugh whenever one of them would remark that I mustn’t have any problems with my weight as a dietitian. If only they knew…

I started simply. I used the treadmill, stair-climbing machine, elliptical, rowing machine, and stationary bike, or I attended classes particularly cycling or yoga classes. The kilograms began to come off and as they did I developed an appreciation for the balance between what I was using to fuel my body and how I was using that fuel.

I also discovered a form of exercise I really loved: running.

I am not a natural runner, not long legged and lean with lungs that just won’t quit, but something happened when I focused my efforts on becoming a runner.

I learned about myself. I listened to my body, what it needed to fuel it efficiently, when it was hungry, when I needed to rest and when I needed to get out on the road and let my feet fly.

Running has taught me not to judge my present capabilities by whatever might have happened in the past. Running has taught me that I can stand a little pain for the reward at the other end. Running has taught me that when life gets hard, or the road seems too long, you can only keep putting one foot in front of the other, and repeat, because that is the only way to get through anything.

Running has not only taught me. Running has brought me things.

Running has introduced me to amazing blogging running friends.

Running has affected so many areas of my life. I know that I can achieve my goals now. When I plan for something and I really want it, there is nothing and no one standing in my way but myself.

And she’s just a shadow with running shoes now.

So when fitness came back into my life, so did balance with food. I ran a half marathon and several 10ks, I ran in Rome, in Florence, in Los Angeles, and in my own lounge room, and I realised somewhere in that journey that I had left behind some of the worry about what my body looked like and had started to focus on the miracle of what my body could do.

I realised that I was standing at the starting line of my own life, and I couldn’t wait for the race to start.

My sister and I doing the Bridge to Brisbane on Father’s Day this year.

In other news, I have just signed up for the 2013 Cadbury Half Marathon! I am super excited because it starts and finishes at the Cadbury Factory in Hobart, Tasmania and the swag-bag includes chocolate…

Spring cleaning: the mind

Posted on by

4

My enthusiasm for spring has wound its way through my last few posts. They are peppered with references for my love of clear skies, new flowers, bright sunshine, warmer days, and the promising bounty of the season. Another part of spring that I am fond of is spring cleaning. Although I tend to accumulate a lot of stuff (especially books and papers), I actually do enjoy a good clearing out. Shedding the weight of possessions that keep us rooted in past worries is a rebirth that does not have to be reserved for the turn of the season. A few weeks ago I set out on a mission to throw out some old magazines and paperwork that was no longer of any use, and to make room for the magazines that I just can’t seem to stop buying.

Amidst the old university documents (I really don’t need another paper I wrote on nutrition for kidney disease, do I?), assorted recipes (safely filed away now), and screen-printed Google maps for places I now know off by heart, I found evidence of heartbreak. Evidence of malice, punishment, and depression. Documents from an oppressor. Namely, me.

I have had a long and complex relationship with food. There have been stages in my life where it was comfort, and stages where I controlled it to achieve my weight goals. There were times when I used bingeing or restriction as a punishment. As each piece of paper, each record of that time, hit the bottom of the recycling bin I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, a cloud’s shadow blow away from the sun.

Now, with spring and its spirit of new beginnings making a bright and promising start, I feel the need to share my story. Expose the stages I have been through in my quest to live in harmony with food and my body. There is a common irony that many food bloggers have had issues with food, and it is true that many of us choose to share our journey online. Now I too wish to share my story, not necessarily in the pursuit of helping other people (although that would be a nice side benefit) but rather to commit in a public space, to the final clearing out of these cobwebs that have haunted me for so long. To shed the weight not only from my body, but to finally own where I am in my journey, the peace I have achieved and the challenges that I still face with what I put on my plate.

A confession. An absolution. A commitment.

So stay with me over the next few days while I tell you a story. The journey of a girl who circled her way around loving food with some challenges on the way.

I have called it ‘The 5 Fs of my food relationship’:

  1. Family and food
  2. Full of food
  3. Fitness and food
  4. Fear of food
  5. Friends with food

Please, leave comments, and questions, and (if you feel comfortable) your life experiences, in the comments section below each post. Part of a thoroughly nourished life is taking the time to weed the garden in time for the new season’s growth, so here I go.