The Journey

Imagine yourself walking into a hospital cafeteria between 6am-7pm. Fresh fruits, vegetables, complex carbohydrates and proteins are available to patients, families, visitors and staff. Flashing signs decorate the café with slogans to remind customers to choose healthy options. By 6pm or 7pm, the café is closed.   The lights are dim and all is quiet. The hospital personnel dwindles to essential staff only.   Then here comes the night shift.   All the doctors, nurses and personnel, who keep the inter-workings of the hospital functioning, begin their “day.”   For night shift employees, their “day” begins at night.   As a night nurse, you arrive at 7pm prepared to care for patients and handle any emergencies that may arise until shift change at 7am.   Traditionally, the beginning of the shift is the busiest with night medication passes; preparing patients for surgery for the next day; conversing with family members prior to the end of visiting hours and a multitude

I am an addict.  I use presence tense because once you are an addict; you really are always an addict in my opinion. The only difference is whether you are actively indulging in your addiction or not.   Thirty years ago, I was hospitalized for Bulimia.   I was rushed to Graduate Hospital Emergency Room where they did ever test imaginable on me.   My mother and father stood by helplessly.   Did they know their 16 yr old was killing herself by eating up to 5000-7000 calories in one sitting and vomiting?   Yes and no.   They knew on some level, but honestly I don’t think that they every really knew how sick I was.   Only I knew that secret.   See I was smart.   I was a straight A student. I read every physiology book there was and had prepared to go to medical school.   I knew what laxatives to take and how much.   I knew what foods would digest and what would not. I knew all the “nooks and crannies” of Bulimia.   I “looked” normal.   Actually, I was overweight so no one r

Recently I had a discussion with a good friend of mine about participating in racing events vs fitness for health.  She explained how she enjoys working out, like I, but when it comes to events such as triathlon, she is a nervous wreck.  Her anxiety is not due to the fact that she is ill prepared, but due to her overwhelming need to feel "good enough."  "What will people think of me if I don't do well?" She stated.   I said to her, "You are participating in an event that you have paid money for so go and have a great time. Just think of it as exercise with friends (or familiar strangers)."  She stated that when I presented to her like that she felt better about participating in her event.  Not only did she do well, by her standards, but she had a good time.  To me, this was the most important thing.  Have fun! I constantly read on many triathlon and running forums to which I belong about this self-imposed pressure to participate in running, cycli