I am in bed at the moment, having just got home from a bonfire with members of my running club. Considering I ran a pretty speedy half marathon this morning (for fun...as a training run...no medal involved...hate that...) and it is now past midnight (I don't know why the time stamp on my blog is off. I need to fix that at some point), I'm pretty beat. I did, however, want to follow up after my last post.
Several weeks ago, a missed meal (example: Friday's lunch and The Turkey Sandwich Incident) would have evolved into missed dinner, super-long workout fueled by nothing the next morning, resisting breakfast,another missed lunch...perhaps a "binge" on some soup or something else that really doesn't count as a meal, followed by self-induced vomiting...guilt, tears...
You get the idea.
Friday night's dinner was surprisingly uneventful, especially after the lunch incident. I came home to an empty house (The Mr. is in NYC visiting his best friend from college), and I was actually looking forward to some rare solo downtime. I changed into my sweats, threw my hair up in a ponytail, and proceeded to prepare grilled chicken, steamed broccoli, and brown and wild rice.
I have had this dinner four times this week. LA's goal for the week: just eat. Even if it's the same meal repeatedly. Known in the recovery process as "safe" meals, certain meals have the ability to transform an eating disordered person into an eating robot. There is no thought process, emotion, or over-thinking involved. For me, it has become the standard chicken-broccoli-rice combo.
I sat in front of the television in my finished basement, watching in awe as the Real Housewives of New Jersey verbally (and physically too...what if we all acted like that?!) attack one another on their reunion show. The TV provided distraction as I, emotionless and completely robotic, polished off the meal one bite at a time.
Whenever my mind told me to stop eating or to go get rid of what had already passed through my mouth, I just kept reminding myself: "You have to run 13 miles in the morning. If you do not eat this, your running club friends will need to scrape your body off the road and haul your ass into the ER."
Now, I do realize that there will not always been a 13-mile run scheduled for the next morning to force me to fuel my body properly. I am not so naive to think that this is even remotely close to a healthy thought process. However, on a day like Friday, when food is the enemy and the eating disorder voice is barking in my ear, anything that forces me to eat a meal is a fair game.
So I got back on track. I earned the right to record a succcessful dinner in the food log that LA will review on Monday morning. The big blank spot for Friday lunch will be a discussion point (no doubt), but at least I redeemed myself by eating an actual dinner.
Near mile 11 this morning, I experienced a bit of a runner's high- which I love. Those moments always remind me why I need to get healthy again: the rewarding experience of training with friends, the thrill of competition, and the personal satisfaction of pushing beyond limitations are the things I live for.
I want know that my body is strong enough to allow me those moments.
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