Tag Archives: Coffee

Goals, Polar Plunge, and Whole30

My goals for 2019:

  1. No social media, except this blog. No smart devices.
  2. Swim, walk, or run every single day, except Sunday. Hopefully run a 50K in October.
  3. Read at least one book each month.
  4. Meditate for 10 minutes in the morning and 10 minutes in the evening.
  5. Practice silence and listening, with intention.
  6. Eat mostly real food and fewer carbs, specifically sugar.

I am being moderately successful at most of my goals, though meditation and reading could use a little boost, and I recently returned to Facebook for a hot minute to beg for money for the Polar Plunge. I am enjoying Flippy, the Flip Phone, because I can’t check my email or look things up on the Internet at a moment’s notice, and it’s a real pleasure being free of that encumbrance. I do miss listening to podcasts and having a GPS with me at all times, but it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

This will be my fifth year doing the Polar Plunge, I believe, and I’ve never had as much of a problem raising money as I am this year. I am sitting right under $500 with three weeks left, and I’d like to raise $1000. I raised close to $1200 last year, so I think I maybe pissed some people off, people don’t have as much money, or not being on social media has been detrimental to my success. Oh, well. I guess $500 is better than nothing. If you want to donate, you can do that by clicking here.

My brother and I are over halfway through our late-start January Whole30, and I can say it feels like a success. Most of my aches are gone, my skin feels less dry, and I feel less bloated and like I’ve lost a bit of weight. I do think I have a bit of a problem with dairy and my joints, because with Whole30 or being vegan, either way, my joints are not as achy and I feel less inflamed.

What I love about being on Whole30 is that I am forced to think outside my go to junk food favorite, pizza, and look toward more interesting food, like the butternut, chicken, apple, hash I made for breakfast yesterday morning, or the eggs in hell that Adam made for breakfast the day before. We haven’t had school for three days because of the weather, so we’ve gotten some really good food and cooking time in this week. More importantly, I’ve gotten to drink amazing Blue Mind Roasting coffee that I made at home with the pour-over method, instead of Starbucks each morning.

Once we complete this Whole30, I am going to remain mostly paleo with Saturdays being a “free day,” where I can eat some of the things I don’t eat the rest of the week. I feel well enough, though, that I’d like to keep inflammatory foods, like dairy and grains, to a minimum. I am not sure where things like beans and corn will fall, but I am not opposed to trying to add them back in occasionally.

Last time I did a Whole30, I tried to keep carbs to a minimum and I got super sore when I tried to do any kind of exercise. This time, I have eaten more potatoes and sweet potatoes, so my body feels a bit better and more energetic. Since I’ve been swimming in the morning and in the afternoon and adding in some extra walking here and there without a considerable amount of soreness, I feel like I can start boosting up my exercise.

This morning I did my first body weight exercise training in a long time, like probably since September. Seriously, I could only do one round of 20 squats, 10 push ups, 20 lunges (10 on each side), 20 dumbbell rows (10 on each side), 15 second plank, and 30 jumping jacks. Pathetic, but it’s a start.

My ultimate goal, as it has been in the past and will be until I drag myself across that finish line, is an Ironman. I’m shooting for Maryland in September of 2020 (607 days, 87 weeks, 19 months), if I can keep myself motivated until then. I figure, I am a cancer, the logo is a crab, so it’s meant to be, right?

Why Practice Abstinence?

I’ve read a bajillion Internet posts about how much better people feel when they give up alcohol and/or caffeine.

You can read here about Gretchen Rubin, the woman who wrote The Happiness Project, a book I read with quite a suspicious eye, and her reasons for quitting drinking. I had quite a difficult time relating to much of what she said, because I kept feeling like anyone could be happy if they had all day to hang out and write and do things to make themselves happy, instead of working 40+ hours a week outside the home, like so many of us do. I mean, I’d be happy if I could just eat, swim, trail run, write, and do art. Any agents out there willing to negotiate a contract for a fat athlete who just wants to athlete and write about it? I promise, I’ll make it a good read.

You can read here about how long it might take for you to return to “normal” after quitting drinking.

You can read here about a year-long fast from alcohol and the effects it had on the writer.

In fact, if you google “a year without alcohol,” you can read a countless number of people’s quests to live a year or more without drinking any form of alcohol. Similarly, if you google “a year without caffeine,” you can find a significant number of stories about how people exist without coffee.

After spending a bit of time googling and skimming other folks’ quests of this nature, I decided to try my own little experiment. Since October 10, I’ve not had any alcohol or caffeine, and I plan to continue this fast or abstinence at least until I go back to Indiana in January, so October 10-January 16, when I will run my favorite night time trail run. What is that? About three months?

After nine days, do I feel better? I wouldn’t say that I notice a significant difference in my body. I don’t feel necessarily peppier, or necessarily groggier. I don’t notice a difference in my habits in the morning, since I replaced coffee with a caffeine-free herbal infusion by Tiesta. In the evening, however, I have to say it’s a bit disconcerting to not have a beer with dinner or to wind down when I come home from work.

I’ve spent some time in the past year shedding some of my bigger addictions, and I feel much better for it. It’s amazing how quickly things that seem innocuous when we initially begin them can become such controlling and overwhelming forces in our lives, how they can begin to color everything we do, and how we eventually let them control how we interact with people and how we think of ourselves.

Though I wouldn’t call alcohol or caffeine, in and of themselves, addictions for me, I will say that I think I rely on them too much, so a few months without will do me well. As of now, I’m looking forward to a life of clean eating, exercise, and an eventual Ironman finish. Today, I can say I am back on track.

Lent Day 11: A Lesson in Love and Humility

Without giving too many details, I will just say I have learned a lesson in humility and love this weekend at AWP. To make a long story short, my insomnia didn’t, in fact, go away. It only got slightly less ferocious, allowing me five hours of of sleep for one night instead of three. When I don’t sleep, I get mean, curt, short-tongued. I have been all of those things this week, which led to quite a large eruption of misunderstandings last night between a friend and myself. The quarrel led to me moving down to the lobby of the hotel for quite some time, so I could recompose myself and not put my fist through the mirror in our room. See I told you I have some anger management issues, and I felt as if I could beat my way with small, tight fists through the thickest, heaviest punching bag on the market. I didn’t.

Instead, for a change, I left the room to recompose myself elsewhere. By this morning, after a conversation with my beautiful and sensible wife, some coffee, a session on queer YA fiction, and some prayer, walking, and meditation, I was able to calmly and rationally initiate a discussion of the events of last night. And, of course, we came out on the other side with love and grace, because I am learning that’s how things work out when you practice humility and love.

Here is the photographic chronology of my day:

Walking North on Michigan Avenue

Walking North on Michigan Avenue

A Coffee Shop I've Always Wanted to Try and Finally Did

A Little Morning Reading and a Mexican Mocha

Buildings Dating from the Mid-1800s

Do You Need Some Art Supplies?

Capitalism Block on State Street

I decided to go to church tonight, but I wasn’t sure where to go, so I literally typed the address of the Palmer House in the first blank of the “Get Directions” feature in Google Maps, followed by the word Methodist in the second blank. I figured I couldn’t lose since I live four hours away, and I’d never see any of the people again. I mean, it’s always a crap shoot when you’re a lady-boy lesbian and looking for a church in a different city. Each time I risk rejection from the body to which I’ve belonged since the age of four when I “gave my life to Jesus,” a form of rejection that breaks my heart again and again.

I walked to Temple Church (a.k.a. First United Methodist of Chicago) with low expectations and hoping that I wasn’t dressed too shabbily. I can never accurately anticipate the dress code at a “First United Methodist,” because they are usually the big, old churches that are trying to stand guard and keep from dying out. But that guard-standing usually comes outfitted in whatever is the latest fashion.  I always assume that the dress code is on the upper end of the spectrum, not jeans and the sweater I was wearing. But, as I mentioned, I’d never see any of these people again, so I pressed on.

Temple Church's History in Stained Glass

Destroyed by the Great Chicago Fire

As I walked past the beautiful arts garden, pictured above, I looked to my right and got a glimpse of the Chicago Picasso. I could feel that this hour of my life was going to be an adventure. Electric Jesus was in the air. I strolled through the revolving door and up to the security guard. Yes, you read correctly, I walked confidently over to the security guard, and said, “Can you please tell me where the church service is meeting tonight?” She pointed me up the stairs and through some double doors.

I was a bit disoriented as I walked through the thick wooden doors, because I was released into a space that looked like a storage closet, only without anything in it, too big to be a closet, too small to be a respectable hallway. The space was a hallway nonetheless, and I began to search for what I was sure would be a large stone chapel or sanctuary. Instead I found the small, intimate chapel pictured here. In fact, I had to ask the lovely man in the picture if I was in the right place.

A Tiny Church Service in a Huge Church's Small Chapel

By the time the service started with a greeting and then a hymn that none of us really knew, I realized I was experiencing the Body of Christ in a very real way. The mix of people was diverse: various ethnicities, social classes, sexual orientations, gender identities, and abilities. There were people there with children of varying ages, and older people who were there alone. The bulletin specifically spelled out that we were all welcome.

The service followed the liturgy while still being personal: we confessed as a group and then offered silent meditations of our own. When it came time for the prayer requests, the congregants shared intimately and without reservation, and then we prayed for those concerns. We passed the peace! Finally, we collected tithes and offerings and shared the Eucharist together. We stood together around the communion table and celebrated the Great Thanksgiving as we looked each other in the eyes. I could feel the Holy Spirit hovering there in our midst, like the soft breeze that blows off Lake Michigan in the summertime, and as refreshing.

Jesus’ body was broken, His blood was shed, and we were redeemed yet again. A glorious miracle.

Several times the intimacy and the beauty of it all overwhelmed me to the point of tears. Here, four hours away, is the type of community I long for each Sunday. Here, in a church I assumed would be too uppity for my jeans and sweater, I met my Jesus in the realest way I have experienced in years. Here.

Today was a beautiful mess. Peace.