Running naked…

18 04 2011


I bet that got your attention!

Now that you’re here might as well stick around and read the rest of this post (you pervert!).

Today I ran without my garmin. Without a heart rate monitor. Without a route. Without a mileage goal. Without a time goal. I just ran. Today starts the idea of #watchlessmonday. Picking a time during the week where a run takes place without the constraints of what many of us are bogged down with…our gadgets.

It was a little nerve-wracking at first to leave without the comforting compressed feeling of a chest strap around my body. I’ve become very attached to knowing exactly how fast I’m running, how far I’ve run, what my heart rate is and how many calories I’ve burned. As I left the house I was scheming ways of figuring all those things out without the need of any gadgets. I thought about running a direct route, one that would be easy to remember so that I could come home and google map it. I thought about running a route I was familiar with and already knew the mileage. I thought about running for a specific amount of time so that I could estimate distance…

Then I thought to challenge myself.

You know I love a good challenge right?

I purposefully ran a route that would be impossible to map. I purposefully ran a route I’ve never run before. I purposefully ran a route in which timing couldn’t be a factor (we’re talking hills baby!). It was just what I needed. I’m back to tracking food for nutritional purposes, which means I’m back to wearing a HRM when I’m at the gym to calculate how many calories I’m burning. I’ve been bogged down by my gadgets and today was liberating (Thanks Sharla).

And just like most things in my life right now…

There was a message to be learned.

As I started my run I was trying to memorize the route. I didn’t want to, but my own thoughts of having something to prove kicked in. What if it’s not far enough? What if it’s not fast enough. I have a half marathon coming up and how can this count towards training if I have no idea how far I’ve gone? As I rounded a corner I came to a set of long stairs that would have completely thrown me off course. I ran by them.

Then I turned around and ran down them.

It was important for me to let go of the constraints of what I think I should be doing and just enjoy what I was doing. Halfway down there was a landing. There was someone there, alone, throwing a ball against the door of the building. Time slowed down for me in that instance. That person looked bored. As if there was nothing better to do in the world but stand there and toss the ball back and forth. It reminded me of when I was a kid. Socially awkward. Not yet diagnosed with Aspergers. Labeled a loner. Teachers just let me be. No intervention. A tennis ball and brick wall…

That’s just Tara.

As I ran past them I looked inward to who I am and began to give thanks to the GOD that has brought me to where I am today. I tried not to cry, but couldn’t help myself as I remembered what it was like to be that person standing on the landing (both as a child and as an adult). By the time I hit the bottom of the stairs I didn’t care about my gadgets. I didn’t care about how fast I was running. I didn’t care about whether I was going to run 2 miles or 12 miles…

I just ran.

I didn’t need my garmin to tell me I have endurance. The hills I ran without stopping (and if you know Tacoma, you know there are some serious hills in the downtown area) showed me I have endurance. I didn’t need the garmin to tell me I can run fast. I just had to feel the strength in my legs as I pushed harder to know I was running faster. I didn’t need the garmin to tell me how far I was running. I just needed the exhaustion of both my lungs and my body to tell me I ran far enough…

I didn’t need the validation of a gadget.

I just needed me.

Just Tara.

Let’s Blog about something FUN!!!

8 04 2011


Ohhhhhhhhhh Yheaaaaaaa bayyyyyybeeeeee!

I’ve been very quiet about this little piece of deliciousness because well…every time I think about Ragnar I A) squeal like a little girl B) shake my head in disbelief and C) hold my breath until my face turns blue. I can’t, however, hold in this little bit of “oh my GOD I can’t believe I’m going to do this” any longer!


Don’t know what Ragnar is?

I didn’t either until Sharla planted a little seed in my brain. The seed? “Wouldn’t it be cool to run a 187 mile relay race?”…well yes in fact it would be cool but absolutely insane ridiculous impossible….wait a minute?

Tell me more.

You and 11 of your closest friends running 200(ish) miles, day and night, relay-style, through some of the most scenic terrain North America could muster. Add in crazy runners, inside jokes and a mild case of sleep deprivation. The result? Some call it a slumber party without sleep, pillows or deodorant. We call it a Ragnar Relay. It’s really quite simple. Get a bunch of friends together (or we can help you find team members who’ll quickly become your friends) and start running. Okay, there’s a little more to it. Your relay team will consist of 12 members (or 6 for Ultra teams). During the relay, each team member runs three legs, each leg ranging between 3 – 8 miles and varying in difficulty. So, from the elite runner down to the novice jogger, it’s the perfect relay race for anyone. How do you cover 200(ish) miles? Only one runner hits the road at a time. The rest of your teammates are on support duty in your race vehicles. Teams require 2 vehicles, with runners 1-6 in van 1 and 7 -12 in van 2. Van 1’s runners will cover the first six legs. It’s a relay, so as the each runner begins, the crew in the vehicle can drive ahead, cheer their runner on, and meet them at the exchange point to pick them up and drop off the next runner. After the first 6 legs, van 2 picks up the slack and starts putting in the miles. A day, night and day later, you’ll have made it all the way from start to finish!”

(That’s from the WEBSITE)

So now you know why I A) Squeal like a girl B) Shake my head in disbelief and C) Hold my breath until my face turns blue. When we first starting putting this crazy ass preposterous outlandish idea together we had six runners that were ready to sign on the dotted line…so we began looking for another six to complete our twelve runner team. It didn’t take long to find another six runners, but unfortunately they came and went for a variety of reasons. Again the core six of us began to search for another six runners to complete the much needed twelve “man” team because there was no way in hell we were going to run this as an ULTRA team of six….

We had a team of twelve again.

For about a month.

Again for whatever reason those six other runners didn’t pan out and as the deadline for early registration came closer and closer a little whisper began to speak loud and clear to me: Maybe this core team of six is supposed to run the 187 miles…maybe we are meant to go ULTRA!!! So I put it out there to the rest of the team and before I could take back my words and act like I never even had a fleeting thought, we officially became:


(Team Optimus Prime)


187 miles (Yes I said 187 miles!)

On July 22 the six of us are going to do something absolutely CRAZY amazing. We’re going to spend 24 hours running…and running…and running from Blaine WA (yep, near the Canadian border) until sometime July 23rd when we’ll cross the finish line in Whidbey Island 187 miles south of where we started.

Did I mention the farthest I’ve ever run is 13.1 miles?

I’m officially Ragnar Relay Race runner #1 hence forth nick named “Rag1” Each runner will run three portions of the race. I run 1st, then 7th and finally 13th. You’re probably already doing some math calculations as to the length each of us will have to run in order to cover 187 miles in 24 hours whenever we finish. Mine breaks down as the following:

First leg = 12.4 miles

Second leg = 7.9 miles

Third leg = 10.9 miles

31.2 miles!

So there ya have it. For someone who just started running just a short year ago (I was up to 2.8 miles this time last year), this is almost incomprehensible….almost. There is something in my heart that says this is going to be one of the hardest coolest things I’ve ever done. I love my team mates more than words can express. I put it out to them that we should do this Ultra style and they came through with flying colors!

I want you to love them too.




*my other two team mates aren’t bloggers (sad I know)


(definitely more than meets the eye!)


Dear Tara…

20 02 2011

Dear 270 Tara;

We don’t know each other very well. In fact, we’ve never met. I mean, I know who you are. You’re famous round these parts. Everyone knows you. Everyone knows you were struggling to enjoy life. You didn’t think very much of yourself and had gotten yourself in a dark space and had little hope that it was going to get any better. Everyone remembers the day you decided that the life you were living was no where near your potential and you were going to make a difference, even if it was the smallest of changes.

I heard the stories.

The 260’s didn’t take any pictures because they remember you were too embarrassed to even make a public statement about how much you weighed. But with small changes and moving even just a little bit you lost enough weight to think that this journey might be a possibility. They remember how you used to walk up a flight of stairs and had to take a break in between each floor because it hurt to breath. But they remember how you kept at it until you could walk up three flights of stairs without stopping. They remember how you cried when you wanted a diet coke but instead drank a glass of crystal light or how you used to say “my stomach doesn’t care what I put in it, it’s my brain that needs to be retrained” during your lunch break in order to get through those 30 minutes without shoving chocolate or a random doughnut in your mouth.

The 250’s tells me that this is when you started running. They remember that crazy day when you were walking the dogs (and I think by this time you were up to walking 2 miles a day with them – congratulations!) and for some reason you decided to move a little faster. It was early enough in the morning and not a soul was around. You ran for half a block and by the end of it you were so out of breath you actually got sick. We get a good laugh out of that around the water cooler.  They were pretty sure you wouldn’t last long in the running department but you showed them. You found this thing called couch to 5k and began running before the sun came up because you were sure everyone was staring at you. It was slow going but damn if you didn’t keep at it.

The 240’s have a lot of stories to share. They say this picture was taken when you got yourself down to about 245 pounds and this was the first time you actually ran for 5 minutes straight. There was talk that this journey might be serious but there was still some trepidation. They fondly remember the day you decided to go public with your weight loss and was born. P.S. Happy belated blogiversary.



The 230’s say this is really when you planted your feet firmly in the ground and proclaimed this LCJ was for real and not going any where any time soon. You did something you never thought you do: You signed up for your first 5k! Then you went and did something even more crazy: You joined a gym. Yhea we didn’t see that coming




The 220’s celebrated a milestone: 50 pounds lost. Hard to believe that 5 months previous to this picture being taken you weighed 270 pounds. You didn’t see much of a change in your body but you started to notice that your neck was smaller and I think I remember them saying this is where you discovered your collar bone again. They say this was also about the time you realized that this journey wasn’t just about losing the physical weight but that you had to really look to your past to get to your future


The 2teens remember the day you signed up for this 5k. It wasn’t the original one you signed up for (that was coming in June) but you couldn’t pass up the opportunity when it was offered by your friend Elizabeth. It was super scary. But you crossed that finish line and that was the day you called yourself a runner. But that wasn’t all you did in your 2teens. You walked your first half Marathon and then you went and did something down right crazy: You signed up for your first triathlon! They fondly remember you thinking that you might actually like being an athlete and couldn’t wait to see what you came up with next! But it wasn’t all rainbows and unicorns. This was by far the most stressful time during your journey. The 2teens remember the day you got the call that your brother was in the hospital due to his alcoholism. This would mark the first time there was a gain in your journey. You started to realize that stress was a big factor. You pushed too hard physically, you were too hard on yourself emotionally and you got hurt.




The 210’s remember you coming to many crossroads during their time with you. You took your first trip away from home. It was good but it came with a few emotional bumps and bruises. You were fired from your job (and saw the second gain on this journey) and learned that staying in the moment was harder than you ever imagined. But the 210’s also remember when you ran your first solo 5k, learned the importance of NSV and met The Godfather for the first time.



The 190’s are really proud of the stories they have to share. They like to reminisce they day you almost DIDN’T run your first 10k because you were scared. They like to tell the rest of us about the day you decided that building an army behind you was just as important as building a strong body. The best story they like share is when you decided to join Team in Training and begin training for a HALF MARATHON. Yhea, they didn’t see that one coming either. Way to pull the carpet out from under them (by the way they are very thankful for the opportunity to be a part of this journey during the summer months!)

The 180’s think this is your shining time. You spent a lot of time looking in the mirror. You were really getting used to the body you were living in. It was 90 pounds smaller. NINETY POUNDS!! It wasn’t always easy to look at the the person looking back at you. You were still fighting your demons (and still do today) but even your 270 pound mentality couldn’t deny that you were happier and healthier than you’ve ever been not only in your adult life but in your ENTIRE LIFE. This is the time you began to call yourself an athlete and knew it to be a true label.

The 170’s has a lot of bragging rights. They should. This is where you spent the most time. You spent a couple of months here. But you didn’t just sit around and wait for 170 to come knocking on your door. You went after it like a wild fire. You have the Triathlon medal to prove it. You also realized to reach that goal you not only had to drop the physical weight, you had to drop the emotional weight. You realized there was fear in making goal weight and when you began to listen to your heart, you realized that it was time to take that physically fit body back to church. For a little over two months you pushed forward. Slowly watching the numbers on the scale move downward. The day you started this journey you were medically labeled Morbidly Obese. Finally in the middle of November you stepped on the scale and became medically labeled as Normal.

Yep, that’s you. Yep, that’s a half marathon. Yep, you did it 103 pounds lighter. You’ve continued to work harder than you ever give yourself credit for. Over the last year, you’ve ended some relationships, started some awe inspiring relationships. You made a birthday wish come true and set up some serious goals for the next coming year. The one important thing you learned while living through these stories is that life isn’t going to change unless you change. You didn’t want to be depressed or reliant on medication to get you through the day. You didn’t want to sit around wondering what it would be like to be an athlete, you went out and made yourself more of an athlete than you ever dreamed. Even on days you feel like giving in and giving up you realize there is perfection in your imperfections.

You’re probably wondering who I am.

I mean I’ve written you this long letter and I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m the one you NEVER thought you’d see. I’m the one that’s writing the new stories from here on out. The stories that are not only going to continue to change your life but the lives of those that you touch. I’m the one that has been waiting patiently. I’m the one that has been cheering for you for the last 14 months waiting so that I can wrap my arms around you and tell you that you are loved. You are strong. You are beautiful.

I’m the one here to tell you…


My name?

My name is 160.

It’s nice to meet you.








It’s not a bed of roses but the flowers are still pretty…

31 01 2011

I am on vacation.

While this usually brings visions of lying around in the sun (which I did for a few hours) or spending endless hours shopping (I did a little) or running around trying to see all the sights that (insert city here) has to offer, it usually means one thing for me:

Being out of my comfort zone.

Add to that the reason I am on vacation (husband is having surgery) and it could be a recipe for disaster. However, I’m happy to report that the over all feel of this vacation has been one of success. Yes, I’m eating out multiple times a day. No I haven’t made the best decisions each time I’ve eaten. I indulged one night in celebratory food consumption with my husband = good. I also binged one night and ended up laying in bed with a stomach ache = bad. I stocked my hotel fridge with veggies and greek yogurt = good. I opted to eat out more often than not when I could have easily made a healthier option at the hotel = not so good.

I have run multiple times this week = good. I went to the gym (and will return tmw morning) = good. I got the nerve up to go down to the pool in my swim suit and NOT wear a towel = good. I convinced myself my new size 1o pants would no longer fit after eating beyond my comfort and then following it with a dairy queen blizzard (stinking thinking) = bad (the pants fit just fine).

The longer I am away from home, the more stressed out I am becoming. The vacation is over in two days and I will return to my normal sense of control = good. I miss my dogs. I miss my cats. I miss my home. I miss Godfather, my gym and packing my food.

But this isn’t about what I don’t like about my vacation. This is about what I do like. I liked that this has been the best vacation when it comes to my state of well being. Yes, I’ve looked in the mirror and been mad at myself for some of my choices but I’m not anywhere near where I was when I went to Ohio last June. Yes, I thought about making myself throw up while laying on the bed holding my aching tummy after eating beyond what I’m used too, but I didn’t. I let myself sit with feeling uncomfortable and let the voices play through their tapes (“you did it again”, “you’ll never get it right”, “throwing up will make everything better”, “you can eat more food if you throw up”, “you’re stupid for thinking you’re ever going be successful”) and when they were done screaming in my head, I moved on to the best of my ability. I liked being able to get up on a beautiful Sunday morning and run a 1ok virtually with my friend Kelly (startingmy45thyear). I liked being able able to go to the gym (less than two blocks from hotel) and sweat it out on the stair machine and then text Godfather that I did his sprint training and like it even more that I know I’ll return to the gym tomorrow to  sweat it out again and probably get in one last run before I get on the plane Wednesday. I liked putting on my bathing suit and sitting by the pool without covering up with a towel and while I didn’t like the look of my extra skin on my thighs, I didn’t care because my 165 pound body deserves to be in a bathing suit: loose skin and all.

Is this the best vacation of my life?

No, but it’s the best one since being on this LCJ and that’s saying something. I still have two more days here in Arizona. Two more days of learning to ride without my training wheels. Two more days of wobbly steering and feeling like I might “dump my bike”. Two more days of moving forward because backwards is no longer an option for me.

And if I “dump my bike”…

You better believe I’m getting right back on that mother fucker!


23 01 2011

You know how when you get on a new piece of equipment or enter a work area you see caution signs all over the place? The one’s that tell you to “Wear a hard had” or “Make sure to read all the instructions before use” or the one’s that tell you the obvious things like “Plug in to operate” or “Don’t put hand under blade while in motion”…

I wish this journey would have come with a huge fucking caution sign.

A big blaring yellow one that popped up the moment I decided to make a change in my life. One that would be so big I couldn’t miss it and it wouldn’t go away until I had read every word of it, understood everything it said and then when I gave my nod of understanding it would *poof* be gone and I could do what I came to do.

It wouldn’t just pop up once. It would pop up numerous times in my journey. Hell, maybe even once a week day hour every few minutes. Just something that would give me a warning that what I’m about to attempt may need some extra instructions or for bloody hell Tara, don’t put your hand under the blade while it’s moving.

I feel like this last week or so should have come with a big old fat caution label on it. I don’t necessarily feel like I’m spinning out of control today (like I did last week) but I’m having a difficult time getting off this merry-go-round of confusion, anger, sadness and plain old frustration (at myself). I’m either having some really great days or days so insanely bad, I literally want to punch an old lady in the face (yep, I just said that).

Riddle me this: Why did I go and put on a pair of size 10 pants last night, have them fit, get excited and then feel horrible about that success (or maybe the idea of buying more clothes – anxiety), eat beyond comfort level then top it off by eating a piece of cake (I don’t even like cake!!!). WHERE WAS MY CAUTION SIGN?

Okay, let’s get totally honest here…

I was told that the first few months of maintenance was difficult. I did NOT realize it would be this difficult. It’s like I’ve been given a piece of machinery and the instructions are in French  (with no pictures). It took me 11 months to put this machine together and now that I’m trying to use it, it’s awkward, malfunctions and after 3 months of riding it I still don’t know where the brake system is located.

Yet, I keep trying to use the machine. I get up every morning and look at it in the mirror and wonder if today is the day I will fully understand how to get this body/mind to work properly. I wonder if today is the day I can take the “training wheels” off. Make good decision. Be proud of the accomplishments and to stop beating this poor newly acquired body up when something doesn’t go quite right.

So, here’s my gift to you today.

Print it.

Keep it.

You’re going to need it.

Bad choices yesterday.

Do not control what I do today.

Only I control what I do today.

*puts on hardhat*

I’ll be out running if you need me.

A new type of Self Sabotage…

18 12 2010

I knew when I wrote my last post I should have waited just a little longer…

As I began to write it, I could feel all the negativity pouring out of me. One of the most important parts of this LCJ that I’ve learned is negativity has very little room in my life. I’ve worked hard to stay in the moment and remind myself that bad feelings are usually temporary. In the past I would have let negativity fester like an infected wound. I would have picked at it until it bled and then pulled the scab off of it until all that remained was a scar to continue to remind myself how much I hated myself.

I didn’t like the words coming off of my fingers:




Those are no longer words that I allow myself to define who I am. They don’t belong. I was in a lot of pain and in that pain I allowed negativity to creep into my emotional state of well-being. I stopped writing because I didn’t want to continue to validate how I was feeling about myself. I watched a movie, iced my foot and spent some much needed time inside my head.

“I am a runner”

“Pain does not define me”

“I will recover”

“I deserve to heal”


I deserve to heal? It never occurred to me that taking the much needed time to heal my foot was not because I was weak and didn’t know how to be successful in my journey but was because I deserved to heal. Then it hit me: I was self sabotaging myself just as much as if I was eating a gallon of ice cream because I was mad. I was mad because at 40 I decided to do something about my weight (physical and emotional) instead of when I was in my 20’s or 30’s. I was mad because I’m still trying to figure out this whole running thing and I got hurt in the process. I was mad because for the first time in my life I’m really moving physically and here I am too hurt to even put my foot on the floor.

Forcing myself to run when it’s not comfortable was (and is) just another way of letting the negativity fester. Thinking that I deserved to feel pain because it proved that I don’t know how to be successful was (and is) another way of pulling off the proverbial scab over and over again until an emotional scar appears.

Well that’s not who I am.

Not Today.

Not Ever.


By the end of Thursday night I was feeling 100% better (both emotionally and with my achilles). I got to talk with Michael and learn first hand that I shouldn’t be scared to tell someone that I might not be able to run a race. I had decided to step up to the starting line for the upcoming 10k with the mutual understanding that this was not a race for time but rather a race to finish: even if that meant I walked for most of it. It was more important for my emotional well being to at least try to do the race then not try at all.

I stepped up to the starting line this morning knowing I might feel some pain, knowing I might walk more than normal and knowing I might be slower than I would like to be. I also stepped up knowing that my awesome running partner was not going to be mad, disgusted or disappointed if I needed to adjust what I was doing. That negative thinking was all EFT and she hadn’t been invited to this party.

I ran.

I felt very little pain.

So many awesome things came out of this race. I ran my fastest 10k (56:55). I ran a consistent 9:11 mile (my goal for 2010 was to run a consistent 10 min mile). I placed 5th out of my age division (I’ve NEVER placed in anything). More importantly I crossed that finish line knowing I deserve to heal not because I am weak…

But because I AM STRONG!



Post run blues / food

4 12 2010

I had no idea there was such a thing as “Post Run Blues”

Now what?

However, after finishing my first half marathon: I have them. I feel sad and lost and not sure what to do with myself. I haven’t run since Sunday (though that will change in a few hours) and when I do get out there in a few hours with my friend Michael, I’m not sure how long I want to run for or where I even want to go. For the last four months of my life, I’ve been preparing to earn my 13.1 wings. Every time I ran (whether it was a mile on the treadmill or for 2 hours outside) the thought of crossing that finish line was always in the forefront of my mind. Last weekend I put all my hard work, thought processes and just plain old sweat into action and came away feeling elated and more in power than I ever had in my entire life.


Now I just feel like blah.

I’ve been doing some reading on PRB (post run blues) and am not so shocked to see it’s a common occurrence. I didn’t experience it after any of my shorter races so I wasn’t really prepared for the initial let down of finishing the race on Sunday. When I crossed the finish line I felt like a strong runner and now I’m worried that I won’t even go a mile once I step out my front door in a few hours. I wish someone had told me to expect this feeling of “okay now what”. I guess I experienced it a little when I finished my first triathlon back in September but even then I was thinking about the half marathon. At this point of the adventure, the biggest challenge I had was earning my first 13.1 and now that’s over.

I’ve picked a few “short” races to get to through the rest of the year. Funny how six months ago those “short” races seemed so long in distance. 5k’s and 10k’s seem short to me now. Fun runs. Something to do for 30 – 60 minutes. I’ve got some great challenges picked out for 2011 (including RAGNAR for July) and hopefully finding an Olympic distance triathlon to shoot for (why everything wants to happen the same time as Ragnar, I can’t figure out), but for now I’m just going to sit with my PRB, get through the holidays and keep reminding myself that now that I know I can run 13.1 miles, the race world is my oyster.


I’ve been wanting to blog about my relationship with food and what I’ve learned about myself over the last 11 months (more so in the last month since hitting goal weight). I get nervous writing about food. You’ll notice I don’t blog too much about what I eat, or  what my daily caloric intake is was or take pictures of my food. While food intake was is a big part of my LCJ it’s a more private affair. This isn’t about turning down an extra piece of cake at a birthday party, or sneaking in some fast food before heading home to cook dinner for the family. It goes much deeper as I’m sure many others out there experience.

I think about food even more so now that I’ve reached goal weight and have gone into what the world of weight loss calls “maintenance”. I’ve decided I can’t rely on counting calories for the rest of my life. It’s not conducive for me. It works for some but it’s too emotionally binding for me to do it at this point of the journey. Counting calories was a safe haven for me while losing the weight. Now it’s become bothersome and counter productive. I’ve been reading about Intuitive Eating and for the last month have been giving it my best shot.

I’ve learned a lot about myself over the last month.

Well let me rephrase that. I’ve lived with my behaviors for 35+ years so I’m not really “learning” about myself. It’s more of a “ohhhhhhh so that’s what they call it” type of epiphany. Funny thing about life: you really think you’re the only one. That is until you read something and go “oh wow, so other people do this too?”.

That’s sort of where I am at this point of the IEJ (Intuitive Eating Journey) – discovering that my relationship with food (while private) is not so uncommon in its behavior. I want to delve into it more but for now I’m just figuring out how to go through the day without counting a single calorie and giving myself permission to eat (what a concept!). The last 30 days post goal weight have been successful. I’m weighing in at 169 consistently and have not had one panic attack over food (been stressed out almost to the maximum yes – but no panic attacks).

While the each behavior alone could easily have a blog post dedicated to it, there are some things I’d like to point out about my relationship with food just so I can start to make sense of all the information I’m taking in.

  • I eat almost consistently in survival mode
  • I am afraid food will not be available to me
  • When I eat, I often think about what it was like for me to eat as a child
  • Bulimia while it gave me a sense of control it also allowed me to eat more food and feel safe
  • I eat competitively when other people are involved
  • The eating behaviors forced on me as a child, have evolved to eating behaviors I force on myself as an adult
  • I don’t trust myself around food or my ability to have a healthy relationship with food
  • I live my life meal to meal and think about food more than anything else (except money)

So there you have it, my relationship with food in a very very small nutshell. As the weeks go by I’ll blog more about each of these behaviors as they make themselves known to me. For now, I’d like to know what your relationship with food looks like. Under control? Out of control? WTF? Counting calories? Eating Intuitively? Reading any good books about this shit?

Time for oatmeal.