February 18th, 2012: I did lose that pound, so I’m at 313, and it feels kinda like I’m back at the starting point for this challenge (each pound is a challenge). My question to myself today is whether or not I should stop and enjoy eating sometimes, or just get it done.
An abridged story to illustrate my point:
Two of my friends and I took my horses on a pack trip into the Pintlar Wilderness in southwest Montana when we were in high school. We packed way back in there, most of a day’s ride/hike. Among all our food and gear was four and a half cases of beer. Yes, that 108 beers to be divided between three 17-year old boys. We got to the mountain lake where we had planned on camping, and decided the first thing we better do is get that beer into the lake to start cooling it off.
At the conclusion of setting up the camp, it had become a beautiful wilderness summer evening, perfect time to crack a frosty. We went down to the lake to retrieve a couple of those cold beers, and it was there and then that we witnessed 96 full cans of beer floating out near the middle of the glacial lake. Too cold and far to swim, we were hosed, those beers were gone. Maybe I should’ve been concerned with littering, but I could give a fuck about endangering the planet as a junior in high school who saw his beer floating away. I felt like crying. We were 15 miles, give or take, from the trail-head and the truck. I wonder why we didn’t sink those beers in the mud or something.
We were left with a 12-pack of beer (that we didn’t put in the lake for some reason) for three of us for three days. My dilemma was, do I have all my share of the beers right then, or stretch them out? I opted for right then, so I just shotgunned all 4 beers. I was left with a mild buzz and nothing to sip on while I wound down on that mountain lake summer evening in Montana.
Applied to food: I’ve gotten so I don’t appreciate breakfast, lunch, or dinner as, like, a sit-down type meal thing. I don’t go slow and taste, I just want to wolf it down and be done and think of something else. More like a necessity just to move on, like with the beers. I just want it done. The food isn’t bad, there just isn’t enough of it (which is how it’s supposed to be). Maybe I should taste every bite, maybe I should sit down. Just doesn’t seem right. Eating is all business now. Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing. It’s just an is. Thoughts?
February 18th, 2020 (retrospective): It’s not that way anymore. I look forward to each meal every day more than I would the finest Christmas dinner. Yes, I eat like a dog – almost the same thing every day. However, I don’t have to wait all year for it, just a few hours till lunch, then a few more till dinner. I know what I’m getting: what it is, how much of it there is, how long it’ll take me to eat it, and how I’ll feel after I finish. Now I know why my two German Shepherds are so damn excited to eat every day. This has been quite the unanticipated turn of events in my life. With me and my program, routine is king. The mundane has become oddly and astoundingly so rewarding.
I fight so hard to keep this routine that I dread the day life decides to say, “fuck your routine”. However, I’ll l try as hard as I can that day to remember that built within the process is the ability to flex and bend, rather than stiffen and break. It’s coming, I know it. There are always storm clouds building, but I’m not afraid. Bring that shit on because every time the program is tested, and it passes, my trust in the process grows.
