It is 7:00 am, and the slightest hint of gray anticipates dawn. Somewhere in the recesses of slumber and darkness I missed the intention to rise earlier. Last week the balance tipped in the northern hemisphere. It tipped toward darkness and away from light. Little voices in my head argued for a few more minutes in bed before we launched the day. I will be setting an alarm for the next few weeks, until we get used to the change.
As a “transition junkie” I find it invigorating to
• pack away one set of clothes and hang up another;
• shift mornings from the sunrise view to a cozy fireside chair;
• dust off the treadmill; and
• re-pack my gym bag.
Autumn offers its gifts in the beauty of changing leaves and the the vitality of frosty mornings. It brings us “back to school,” whether in fact or in spirit, as crossing guards, fall sports, and students with laptops appear. It is a time for canning, preserving the harvest. Hunting, and filling the freezer. Cutting, splitting, and stacking wood for the fire.
Autumn also issues unique challenges, as we resume a framework of structure and responsibility. Business meetings resume. Phones ring. Calendars fill. Classes convene. Homework fills the gaps. We may miss the dominance of day and go reluctantly into the night.
A change of seasons calls us to re-balance our lives. Just as the equinox—that one day of perfect symmetry between daylight and darkness—passes quickly, the balance in our lives is always in flux. I wonder, is the season called “Fall” because that’s what happens when we don’t adjust in time?
What are the personal gifts of autumn for you? What are the challenges? How will you adapt to seasonal changes in weather, in daylight, and schedules and re-commit to year-round health and wellness?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
The Final Finisher Award
When we enter that first athletic event, many of us hear an inner voice, “I’m afraid I’ll come in last.” Most of us don’t. The fear fades for awhile. Years—or even decades—later, the age-group awards tarnish, and personal bests vanish into the past. As we face the reality of aging, the question of finishing last arises again. It has recently done so for me.
Last weekend I volunteered to help with a half marathon. The final feet pulled in almost two hours behind the first ones. As the clock passed 2:45 and headed for 3:00(my current best), the finishers spaced out…five, ten minutes apart. At 3:20, we welcomed the last person with all the enthusiasm available to a pod of five tired volunteers.
Most of the finish line food had been stowed. Awards had been presented, and the other entrants were enjoying beer and pizza next door. I really wanted to hand that last person something special. I wanted to present a large bouquet of flowers and some chocolate. That last person in had, in significant ways, achieved more than anyone else in the race.
The last person had the courage to start. Whether it was his first race or her 21st, they lined up at dawn knowing that they would be on the course alone after the first mile. They could envision the tired and impatient finish line crew, the empty parking lot. Yet they lined up anyway.
The last person had the persistence to continue as she saw the slower runners pull out of sight. The course monitors asked him, with a tone of concern, “Are you OK?” She found three lonely cups of water at the aid station. The batteries on the MP3 faded, and he could hear the ego’s insufferable chatter: What were you thinking? You must be crazy! You don’t belong here. You’re going to be LAST!”
The last person had the commitment to finish. He was offered a ride (more than one). It would be a favor to everyone else. This is so embarrassing. But I have a goal. I can do it. And I will.
Someday soon, I will finish last for the first time. It will be a milestone. I’m scared, but in some ways I am anxious to get it behind me. It is the price I pay for loving to run (perhaps even to walk), and for wanting to set ambitious goals, keep my body healthy, and maintain a love of life.
I also want to sponsor a new award—for the Final Finisher. I want it to include a special medal or certificate, and a gift. I want to send the message that courage, persistence, and commitment are a cause for celebration, at whatever speed. What do you think of that idea?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Last weekend I volunteered to help with a half marathon. The final feet pulled in almost two hours behind the first ones. As the clock passed 2:45 and headed for 3:00(my current best), the finishers spaced out…five, ten minutes apart. At 3:20, we welcomed the last person with all the enthusiasm available to a pod of five tired volunteers.
Most of the finish line food had been stowed. Awards had been presented, and the other entrants were enjoying beer and pizza next door. I really wanted to hand that last person something special. I wanted to present a large bouquet of flowers and some chocolate. That last person in had, in significant ways, achieved more than anyone else in the race.
The last person had the courage to start. Whether it was his first race or her 21st, they lined up at dawn knowing that they would be on the course alone after the first mile. They could envision the tired and impatient finish line crew, the empty parking lot. Yet they lined up anyway.
The last person had the persistence to continue as she saw the slower runners pull out of sight. The course monitors asked him, with a tone of concern, “Are you OK?” She found three lonely cups of water at the aid station. The batteries on the MP3 faded, and he could hear the ego’s insufferable chatter: What were you thinking? You must be crazy! You don’t belong here. You’re going to be LAST!”
The last person had the commitment to finish. He was offered a ride (more than one). It would be a favor to everyone else. This is so embarrassing. But I have a goal. I can do it. And I will.
Someday soon, I will finish last for the first time. It will be a milestone. I’m scared, but in some ways I am anxious to get it behind me. It is the price I pay for loving to run (perhaps even to walk), and for wanting to set ambitious goals, keep my body healthy, and maintain a love of life.
I also want to sponsor a new award—for the Final Finisher. I want it to include a special medal or certificate, and a gift. I want to send the message that courage, persistence, and commitment are a cause for celebration, at whatever speed. What do you think of that idea?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Two Hundred Times a Day: See, Think, Eat
This is the third and final part to the Mindless Eating trilogy, with a tip of the hat to author Brian Wansink. The theme today is the link between the eyes, the brain, and the mouth. The more of a food we see, the more we eat. Simple enough in concept, but is it supported by the facts?
Food-habit research has taken on the challenge. A study of office workers discovered key truths around the omnipresent candy dish. Seventy-one percent more candy was consumed from glass candy dishes than from white ones. The more visible the food, the more was eaten. In another study, food wrapped in clear plastic disappeared far more quickly than the same food in aluminum foil. Additional research yields similar findings.
We are faced with more than 200 choices about food each day: whether or not, what, how much to eat? Those choices are driven by our thoughts. Our thoughts are affected by our senses. The more of a given food we see, the more we think about it, and the more often we choose to eat it. I have been testing this concept at home, and have developed some promising new habits.
Many foods have been out of view for years: we don’t keep chips, cookies, or ice cream on hand. Other foods I consider staples, and they are always in the house. Some—like peanut butter or cold cereal—are easy for me to over-indulge. I started putting the PB in the frig, behind the plain yogurt and skim milk. I moved the cold from a clear jar to an opaque canister, behind the rolled oats. Voila! I don’t think about those foods nearly as often, and sometimes I go all day before deciding to indulge a modest serving.
It’s not all about saying “no.” I also want to eat more fruits and veggies. The last few weeks, I have set a small bowl of each on the counter, in full view: grapes, cherries, snap peas, carrots, baby tomatoes. By dinnertime, I have finished them off. It is easy to munch these healthy foods, much as I used to munch candy from the dish on a co-worker’s desk.
How might this finding work in your life? Do you think more about the foods you see? Does each “no” build momentum toward caving in to “yes” later on? What foods deserve a place at the back of the shelf? What should be sitting in the foreground? Are there some you find safer if left in the store? How do you want to try it out this week?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Food-habit research has taken on the challenge. A study of office workers discovered key truths around the omnipresent candy dish. Seventy-one percent more candy was consumed from glass candy dishes than from white ones. The more visible the food, the more was eaten. In another study, food wrapped in clear plastic disappeared far more quickly than the same food in aluminum foil. Additional research yields similar findings.
We are faced with more than 200 choices about food each day: whether or not, what, how much to eat? Those choices are driven by our thoughts. Our thoughts are affected by our senses. The more of a given food we see, the more we think about it, and the more often we choose to eat it. I have been testing this concept at home, and have developed some promising new habits.
Many foods have been out of view for years: we don’t keep chips, cookies, or ice cream on hand. Other foods I consider staples, and they are always in the house. Some—like peanut butter or cold cereal—are easy for me to over-indulge. I started putting the PB in the frig, behind the plain yogurt and skim milk. I moved the cold from a clear jar to an opaque canister, behind the rolled oats. Voila! I don’t think about those foods nearly as often, and sometimes I go all day before deciding to indulge a modest serving.
It’s not all about saying “no.” I also want to eat more fruits and veggies. The last few weeks, I have set a small bowl of each on the counter, in full view: grapes, cherries, snap peas, carrots, baby tomatoes. By dinnertime, I have finished them off. It is easy to munch these healthy foods, much as I used to munch candy from the dish on a co-worker’s desk.
How might this finding work in your life? Do you think more about the foods you see? Does each “no” build momentum toward caving in to “yes” later on? What foods deserve a place at the back of the shelf? What should be sitting in the foreground? Are there some you find safer if left in the store? How do you want to try it out this week?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Eating in Orange
Fat pants? Skinny pants? The decision matters to those of us who want to get rid of abdominal fat. As we noted last week, we seldom stop eating simply because we’re full. If not that, what? I turn again to Brian Wansink’s book, Mindless Eating, for insight.
It turns out that weight gain is not just associated with college freshmen, pregnant women, or those of us approaching the golden years. A prison study showed that inmates are also inclined to pick up pounds (20-25 per six-month stay). Neither the the tasty food nor a sedentary lifestyle are to blame; it is a function of fashion. The standard-issue orange jumpsuit fits loosely; its waistband never gets tight. The occupant can overeat without feeling the effect. Fitted clothing tells us when we’ve had enough.
The amount we eat also depends on visual cues. In one study, subjects were offered unlimited buffalo wings while watching sports. For one group, bones from the last serving were removed when a new platter arrived. The second group surrounded a growing mound of inedible chicken parts. The second group consumed 28 percent less food than those with a tidier table. The bones told them how much they were eating.
I recently played with these two findings on my own. One day, I made a point of keeping all the plates, cups, and utensils I used in full view. I used a new container for each serving, and left it on the counter when I was done. Wrappers and inedible parts remained as well. Nothing went into the dishwasher or the trash until the end of the day, when I took a picture of the pile.
The following week, I decided to wear my “skinny pants,” which fit in the morning and snug up as the day progresses. I resisted the temptation to wear baggies around the house or to choose the next larger size for social eating.
Both experiments were revealing. Leaving evidence in view definitely increased my awareness of cumulative consumption. Even more dramatically, fitted clothing affected my behavior in the moment. I was acutely aware of how the clothing felt, and the fit slowed my eating, enabling me to give it some thought and make a wiser choice.
An orange jumpsuit symbolizes imprisonment in our society. Perhaps that symbol has multiple layers of meaning. The lack of immediate feedback while we eat imprisons us in mindlessness, and potentially traps us in a body that can damage our health and happiness.
I don’t want to wear skinny pants every day, and I don’t want a habit of piling dishes and trash on the counter. However, I learned from the experiments. How might you use the evidence from these studies to increase your mindfulness and manage your eating more carefully?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
It turns out that weight gain is not just associated with college freshmen, pregnant women, or those of us approaching the golden years. A prison study showed that inmates are also inclined to pick up pounds (20-25 per six-month stay). Neither the the tasty food nor a sedentary lifestyle are to blame; it is a function of fashion. The standard-issue orange jumpsuit fits loosely; its waistband never gets tight. The occupant can overeat without feeling the effect. Fitted clothing tells us when we’ve had enough.
The amount we eat also depends on visual cues. In one study, subjects were offered unlimited buffalo wings while watching sports. For one group, bones from the last serving were removed when a new platter arrived. The second group surrounded a growing mound of inedible chicken parts. The second group consumed 28 percent less food than those with a tidier table. The bones told them how much they were eating.
I recently played with these two findings on my own. One day, I made a point of keeping all the plates, cups, and utensils I used in full view. I used a new container for each serving, and left it on the counter when I was done. Wrappers and inedible parts remained as well. Nothing went into the dishwasher or the trash until the end of the day, when I took a picture of the pile.
The following week, I decided to wear my “skinny pants,” which fit in the morning and snug up as the day progresses. I resisted the temptation to wear baggies around the house or to choose the next larger size for social eating.
Both experiments were revealing. Leaving evidence in view definitely increased my awareness of cumulative consumption. Even more dramatically, fitted clothing affected my behavior in the moment. I was acutely aware of how the clothing felt, and the fit slowed my eating, enabling me to give it some thought and make a wiser choice.
An orange jumpsuit symbolizes imprisonment in our society. Perhaps that symbol has multiple layers of meaning. The lack of immediate feedback while we eat imprisons us in mindlessness, and potentially traps us in a body that can damage our health and happiness.
I don’t want to wear skinny pants every day, and I don’t want a habit of piling dishes and trash on the counter. However, I learned from the experiments. How might you use the evidence from these studies to increase your mindfulness and manage your eating more carefully?
Until the next time, go well.
Pam
www.wellbuddies.com
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