Going to the Gym

Yesterday I was typing up some old journal entries and came across the below one on my thoughts about going to the gym, and it amused me enough that I thought I'd share it.

May 16, 2005

I had my fitness re-evaluation today, and it reminded me of something I’ve been thinking about for a while, which is how very strange the concept of going to a gym is. We pay money to deliberately stretch and tear our muscles, trying to cultivate pain, and for what goal? To look better. Of course [that’s not always the reason, or all of it], although [it’s often] a large part. Some of us do go in order to be stronger, to ward of other problems, and some go to recuperate from injuries.

But it just strikes me as increasingly strange that so many jobs these days are so sedentary, and consume so much of our time, that we have to resort to these artificial means to stay healthy. It would seem to make more sense to… try to create jobs that involve some form of physical activity, but that raises all sorts of other problems.

How alien this would all seem to a farmer, or anyone in previous centuries for whom manual labor was simply part of everyday life. What odd measures we must take, resorting to the use of machines that resemble nothing so much as torture devices, and may sometimes feel like them. And we’re willing to go, grunt and sweat and strain and disrobe and shower – all in the company of perfect strangers. Not everyone is, of course, but enough, and it becomes a strange, communal activity, this abuse of our bodies in the pursuit of artificially gained strength. Odd.

Food and Love

When I was younger, I often wished that my mom’s parents were the sort of grandparents who gave me cookies when I visited. I thought it might help me feel like they cared about me. Whatever their feelings were, giving me cookies was the last thing they would do, critical as they were of my weight.

Then there are holidays like Valentine’s Day. With chocolate abounding everywhere, as well as heart-shaped and red-colored foods and restaurant offerings for couples, I feel like I’m being bombarded with the idea that food and love are synonymous. Contrarily, those who are trying to lose weight are told to remember that food is not a substitute for love. But how are we to remember that, when so much reminds us that the two are inextricably entwined?

I was thinking about this particularly in relation to some commercials for Jif peanut butter. One shows a strapping young dad industriously hammering away at a treehouse for his daughter. She, seeing all his work, goes into the kitchen and solemnly makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for him (with Jif, of course). When she offers it up on a plate, he’s touched. “For me?” “It’s what you always make for me,” she points out. (Or words to that effect.) And then we’re reminded that “Choosy Moms (and Dads) choose Jif.” Another shows a young women at college receiving a care package from her mother, part of which includes a container of Jif peanut butter.

The implication, of course, is that these parents show their love through use of food, specifically Jif. There are also commercials for Cheerios that advocate the importance of eating whole grains to be “heart healthy”. The sub-text is that it’s not only the physical heart involved, but also the feelings of the heart. You wouldn’t give someone a box of Cheerios to eat for breakfast if you didn’t love them.

While these are clever advertising campaigns, I don’t think anyone can deny that part of the way we show someone we love them is the food we share. If it’s someone we don’t care about, we might just throw whatever together and call it good. But if it’s someone we love, or want to impress, we cook attentively, taking care with every detail, pouring love into the creation of the food in the hopes that it will come through.

The tragedy is that those who are overweight are often denied this. Many times I, at least, was uncomfortable sharing meals with people, whether loved or not, instead experiencing guilt and anxiety, wondering if their feelings would change or be disappointed by seeing what went into my mouth. Even if I could let myself enjoy the moment, later I agonized over it, berating myself for succumbing to the temptation of a shared meal, knowing it would mean added pounds and even more focus on my weight.

What I would love to see is a change in attitude. Not how we prepare food for or with those we care about – that, I believe, is intrinsic to being human. Rather, it would be wonderful to remove the stigma attached to eating for those who are overweight, so that they don’t feel that sense of loneliness or guilt, and can instead experience the deep joy of sharing something as necessary and delectable as food with those they love.

Food Habits

I sometimes forget, going about my normal routines, just how abnormal those routines truly are, primarily in relation to food. In the process of my losing weight and thinking more about it, I’ve become more and more focused on what I eat, not just from a caloric/nutritional perspective, but also from a societal/environmental/sustainable perspective. I’ve learned how to accommodate this quite well on my own, when I have access to my kitchen and known food sources. When I travel, though, I’m forced to realize just how difficult I make things for myself. It reminds me of Michael Pollan’s comment in In Defense of Food, that the question of what to eat for dinner has become exceedingly complicated.

One thing is that I’m picky in a moral/ethical way about the meat that I eat. I won’t eat commercially raised beef (thank Fast Food Nation for that one). When possible I also try to make sure that other meat or fish I eat has been sustainably raised, and not fed a nasty blend of antibiotics, hormones, corn, offal, and who knows what else. If in doubt, I tend to go vegetarian, but it can be difficult to find good vegetarian meals that aren’t full of cheese, cream, or milk, which I shouldn’t eat, or at least much of.

Additionally, I try to maintain a balance between carbohydrates, fats, and proteins, largely according to the Schwarzbein Diet. The funny thing is these days I try to make sure I have enough fat, as opposed to not having enough, providing, of course, that it’s the good type of fat. I also try to make sure that I have some fat whenever I have some carbs, since it’s easier to digest that way. But I don’t want to eat too many carbohydrates at once. When I do, I notice that I get sleepy a couple of hours later, and have a hard time focusing, whereas if I have just enough, I have consistent levels of energy. That’s probably also because I make sure to have enough protein – but that can be difficult to get without eating much meat or dairy.

On top of all that, I can only eat so much. These days I try to limit myself to about 1,200 calories per day, so around 400 calories/meal. It becomes a real high-wire act, trying to get enough of everything with that limited number of calories, and have it nicely balanced. Also, I can’t forget to mention getting in all my veggies, and for me, it does tend to be a lot.

Of course I don’t manage to do all of this when I’m traveling, although I do my best. I bring my own food for breakfast and snacks, I research restaurants ahead of time to find ones that focus on organic and locally/sustainably grown foods, I eat fish where possible (although having recently learned that farmed salmon are now being fed corn makes me wonder about that), and I exercise as much as I can to work off the excess calories I know I’ll be eating.

But it’s not easy, and I sometimes wonder if it’s worth it. It would be so much simpler to just eat whatever I wanted, when I wanted, and forget about the rest. Times that I do, though, I remember why it’s not a good plan. It makes me feel lousy. Physically, I feel over-full, my stomach complains at me, I don’t sleep well, and I struggle for days afterwards to get back on track. Morally, I know that if I only adhere to my principles when they’re easy, they don’t mean a thing.

The result is that I can’t bring myself to make it less challenging. My only consolation is knowing that other people are starting to think in similar ways, so that I can find restaurants that supply the types of foods I’m looking for, and some places are starting to publish their nutritional information. It’s still not easy, but it’s becoming slightly more so. I know we have a long way to go, but it gives me hope that in time it won’t be quite so difficult, and that it also means I’m not the only one thinking about these things.