| Lynn_Matava | member since October 2009 |
 Eastern Shore, Maryland | November 2, 2009, 10:04 pm SERVING up a SMILE: 11/03/09, Avoiding the Culture Shock Falling in love is a feat that usually does not happen overnight. For example, I love to run but I didn’t always feel this way. In days past, I would run because I felt I needed the exercise in order to balance my consumption of all the wrong foods. Over time, being able to tolerate running turned into an occasional “runner’s high.” Now I find comfort in the sound of the rhythm of my feel against the pavement and the resonance of my steadied breath. I love the absence of a telephone, television and even other people. There is something wonderful about leaving responsibility behind and taking off with nothing but my own thoughts. During a run, the only thing that I am obliged to think about is how to keep out of the way of oncoming cars operated by oblivious-to-pedestrian multi-taskers, who appear to do just about everything behind the wheel of a car. I live at the end of a cul-de-sac and from my home I can take a loop around the entire development and back for an exact distance of two miles. This is convenient as I can decide to run in two, four or six mile stretches. But the actual reason that I like running around my neighborhood is that it is interesting. My development was built in the early eighties. This was when this end of the world was largely undeveloped and still considered rural. Each of the houses sits upon just over an acre of land. There’s no real association, to speak of, except to collect the $35 per year dues that go toward ditch cleaning and buzzard harassment (it actually says buzzard harassment in the annual dues paperwork).. It’s laid-back and slightly outdated but comfy and homey like an old pair of slippers. Depending on the time of day, there are different things to observe and appreciate. In the still air of morning, the olfactory senses lead the mind to the happenings beyond the walls and closed doors of each house. From scent alone, I can tell you which homes use an abundance of perfumes in their laundry detergent, which homes have smokers or dogs, even who uses maple syrup on their pancakes. In the afternoons, I can direct you, by sound alone, to which homes have teenagers, which homes have latch-key kids, and who’s dogs desperately need to go outside. Though the properties are secluded, I can more or less tell you who owns a woodstove, who likes to work in the yard, who has a job; who doesn’t. It is actually pretty scary how easy it is to case out a neighborhood when doing a daily route on foot. This past weekend, I had the pleasure of running the 3.59 mile loop around Prospect Park in Brooklyn, New York. The park is a 585 acre green zone in the middle of Brooklyn. It is no small place. I enjoyed running around many of the sights I had been to previously. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law were married in the Boathouse in Prospect Park. I once attended a birthday party at one of the many ball fields in the park; each party-goer was favored a shirt that read, “I Got to Third Base” on the front; the grown birthday boy’s name and date of the festivities on the back. Even though the park is a vast, open space in the midst of the city, I thought a lot during my run about how different the city is from my rural home. I was twenty the first time I ever stepped foot into New York City and I was amazed at how close together everything was: the buildings, the people, the cars. I’d been to Washington D.C. and Atlanta, Georgia many times but neither of them had the same vertical existence as New York. There, people pay a fortune to live in itty-bitty spaces. If you’ve ever seen an apartment on a television show that was supposed to be in New York and think you’ve gotten a glimpse into city living—think again! I have been inside some apartments that you could stir the pot on the stove as you lay in bed and if you could just reach over a bit further, you could almost turn on the shower from there, too. I remember back when I was much heavier, going into a bathroom in a bar in the city and thinking that I would never even be able to get my pants down, let alone “hover.” This bathroom made one of those found down the aisle at the rear-end of a charter bus look spacious. Comparing my former life of poor impulse control and unfulfilling, quick-fix and never-ending indulgence, to my now healthful lifestyle, is the equivalent of comparing my rural lifestyle to that of people in the city. I did not become the reigning NutriMirror Queen of Ancient Grains overnight (or by vote for that matter, as I am a self-declared here). Slowly, over the course of many years, I made lifestyle changes. Each small change that I made laid the foundation for the next change. Some of the changes that I have made have taken years for me to become completely comfortable with; the love of those changes may have developed even later. Replacing old nutrition habits and a former sedentary lifestyle slowly with better choices and increased movement, bit by bit, allowed me to ease into a healthful existence comfortably. Much like getting to know the city after growing up in the country, the more wholesome my nutrition behaviors, the more I realized the two lifestyles aren’t so different. At one point in my life I might have been afraid to change because I was worried about all of the treats that I may be missing out on. Ironically, a 720 calorie piece of pumpkin praline layer cake tastes even sweeter and is much more appreciated now than it ever would have been in my former “I will not be deprived” way of life. By letting go of preconceived notions about the city, it has become a place that I now look forward to visiting several times per year. Sure, it is expensive and cramped; but where else can you head out the front door and walk past a botanical garden, an art museum, a zoo, a children’s museum and a library all on the ¾ of a mile stretch to the park entrance? Where I once thought that walking around the city was great exercise (and I still do), this weekend I woke up on Saturday morning and ran 2.5 miles, only to walk five miles around Brooklyn for trick or treating. On Sunday morning, I got up and, with ease, ran ¾ miles (each way) to the park and then proceeded to complete the 3.56 mile loop; loving every minute of my 5 mile trek. I loved the change of scenery, I enjoyed the people-watching, and I almost had a love at first sight encounter when my run ended in front of a sign that read “Pumpkin Lattes found inside.” No matter where you are in your journey, there are always magical little moments where we can contemplate and appreciate the small things we find joy in. All of those little bits and pieces of pleasure really do add up over time—in my experience their sum is far greater than any of the joy I found by eating my way into obesity. When you are feeling badly about not losing for a couple of weeks or your logs being not fully green, look back over the course of your journey. Remind yourself of the positive changes that you have made. Find indulgence instead of obligation and feel great about the decisions you are making. These days, there is little that is more of a waste to me than eating a high-caloric, nutrient void food that I don’t find pleasure in. If I am going to indulge: I go for gold, baby. The occasional luxury of real butter, real sugar, heavy cream and whole eggs are treated as extravagances that I know I can budget in from time-to-time without guilt. My foundation continues to expand and new options continue to present themselves. I hope each of us continues to build upon our own healthful habits, and that we fall deeply in love with them. And remember, it really can begin with just a carrot. It is with some country hospitality and a ladle in hand that I say thanks for stopping by. I hope you’ll come back next week and pull your chair up to my table. I’m not sure what we’ll be serving up but I promise to do it with a smile. ~ Taking over the world, one grain convert at a time , Ahem, I mean, Love the foods (and the activities) that love you back! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Don’t forget to visit the Country Tart to read more edible thoughts, view original recipes and witness Lynn’s mission to express art through food and document food through art. [Pictured below: What we found upon opening the cabinet door at a friend’s home. She said she had considered hiding the Helper prior to our arrival. Personally, I am overjoyed to see the addition of the Quinoa. Small steps to build upon…] 
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