Day 6 & 7 - Moderation Is A Dish Best Served Warm

I awoke on Day 6 knowing what awaited me. I hopped on the scale to see the best weigh-in of the week. Shortly, we were leaving on a trip to a place where delicious consumables know no end. It was my Father-In-Law's 70th birthday, so I knew in advance that there would be many foods available that I would usually thrust towards my gaping maw as if someone was going to take them from me. I knew what to expect, but I was thoroughly terrified. How will I handle myself? What did I do to deserve this torture? Will I revert back to the monster I once was? I comfort myself with the thoughts and teachings of someone who has lived through this before and failed. Me. The last time I had a big weight loss push, I was successful, albeit temporarily, and yearning for all the foods that I was depriving myself of. This yearning gave way to the inevitable "cheat day" that graces many diet plans.

The "cheat day", "free day", or even "treat meal". To someone that has put themselves on a strict diet, those are the sweetest words in existence. To me, however, those words signified the beginning of the end. This time around, I won't be indulging in such sinful activity. During the first attempt, I had completely deprived myself of the foods I craved, thinking I was doing myself a favour. In the long run, this backfired severely. Christmas came and went without me ingesting a single sweet. No rum and eggnog, no gingerbread, no cake, no cookies, not anything. I felt pretty darned good about myself. Then came the gallstone incident. After that, I was easily persuaded to try and incorporate those treats I'd been lacking in the form of "treat meal". One meal a week where I would have whatever I wanted. Started out harmless enough, then one meal became one day. One day became two. Two became three. Snowflake became blizzard. This time around, I'm going at it with a different attitude. I'm not fully depriving myself of that which I crave, but I am limiting the amount that I have. Early on, I already feel better than the first time. No headaches, no mood swings, generally much happier. But this day will be a true test. Mountains of mashed potatoes, copious amounts of cookies and cakes, stacks upon stacks of shortbread. Off we go.

My friend Brad is saddened but supportive of my endeavours. You see, he is the proprietor of our local baked goods boutique, so he won't be seeing too much of me in his shop for the coming months. We stopped in to pick up some sweet treats for the man of the day, and the old me would have picked up a dozen "Mini-Imperials" (two little shortbread cookies with jam in the middle and icing on top); six or so for the 45min drive, and the remainder when we arrived. Not this time. I did have one, and I took my time with it. I used to have a "pack" mentality toward food. Eat lots, and eat fast. Taking the time to savour this solitary, bite-size cookie taught me a valuable lesson. Food tastes just as good when you take your time. Another customary stop on the way to the In-Laws' is for a Slurpee. Usually an unspoken and unconscious decision, but not today. I had a giant bottle of water to sip on. As we arrived I avoided making eye-contact with the cookie jar or candy dishes. I could instantly locate a Scotch mint or macaroon in that house while blindfolded. As I slowly raised my line of sight to meet their saccharine gaze, I realized that I didn't desire a sugary treat. The thought of all the sweat and effort put forth the past week had really put a damper on my desire for a quick sugar fix. That, and I could still taste the cookie from nearly an hour ago.

All facets of the birthday supper were available in seemingly limitless quantities, but I did not stuff myself to bursting. Moderation is a beautiful thing, and I seemed to be understanding that more by the second. I'd had mashed potatoes, breaded chicken, bread stuffing, and boiled veggies, and I felt somewhat satiated. My body was telling me to hit everything up for another round. Time to kick the brain into action. I crossed my cutlery on the plate and gingerly pushed it away from me. "I'm done", I told myself, quite matter-of-fact. It wasn't an easy task, but it is a satisfying moment. Same goes for dessert. I had a small portion, my body told me it wanted more, my mind then took charge and I excused myself from the table. I did it. I allowed some indulgence without allowing it to control me. However, I was unable to perform any of my physical training. I'd have to make up for it tomorrow.

Day 7. I was out of my regular routine and unable to weigh myself, but it wasn't a big deal, I don't miss it. After spending the evening on a very firm mattress, I was ready to head home. Shuffling to the kitchen, I found that my Mother-In-Law had already made breakfast. Her famous "scrambled eggs". Please note the quotation marks around those words. These aren't scrambled eggs in the conventional sense of "eggs that have been scrambled". Oh no. It's a customary Mennonite dish, and it likens itself more to "scrambled pancakes". "It's too early to be dealing with this.", I thought to myself. But I had better get used to it. Again, I would normally eat the entire pan myself. I showed some restraint, but to be honest, it wasn't a proud moment. I went for seconds, and regretted it shortly afterward. This is what happens in real life, folks. There will be lapses, I am human, and though this story is meant to be inspirational, it will also document the setbacks in all of their grotesque splendor. Feeling pretty negative about myself at this point, we headed home.

The weather was absolute perfection for this time of year. Autumn is one of my favourite seasons, though it always seems to leave as quickly as it has begun. Knowing we must take advantage, my wife and I decided to head out for a bike ride. I'm not sure how much ground we covered, but we hit a wide variety of trails ranging from paved to gravel to backwoods over the course of the next 90 minutes. Intense, hard-pedaling, and superb fun with my lovely wife; really feeling great about myself again. We got home fairly spent, that was a fierce ride. As we settled in for a quiet evening, I knew I still had some exercises to catch up on. I was completely exhausted from the ride, but after about 30 minutes, I felt the need to hop on the treadmill. My wife thought I'd completely lost it, but the dough fiesta from the morning still weighed heavily on my mind. Instead of a run, however, I changed it to a steep climb. I went 1.5 miles in 25:00 on a 15° incline. Finished that, and dropped in a heap on the mat. Somehow, I powered through my mat workout (200/30/30), and once again was feeling pretty darned good, but ready for a well-earned sit. After a brief, but relaxing, couch session, it was time to turn in for the night.

Lots of highs and lows peppered my weekend, large strides were made, mentally and physically, and I feel much better equipped to handle the adversity as it comes. Let it be known that I survived the first weekend Slurpee-free, and I'm not ashamed to say that I ate what I wanted. Just not as much of it.