Sunday, August 4, 2013

August 4, 2013


August 4, 2013

Sundays are my “rest days” from training.  I did still sneak in 50 squats and 20 push-ups before my shower this morning though.  Last Sunday I began a wheat-free-month.  Again.  I’ve been curious about the affects of wheat on my over all body composition.  Many athletes I admire have dropped wheat from their diets, and so I want to examine what my body does without wheat.  I’ve been poking around in several paleo cook books off and on for the past year.  Interesting concept.  I just don’t know my way around meal prep that doesn’t include some sort of grain-based side dish.  I am trying to learn.

So, I began my new wheat free experiment eight days ago.  I was doing pretty well with it -- until this evening.  My brain was craving something baked and sweet.  I tried baking a pumpkin souffl├ę from www.BalancedBites.com.  It was delicious, but didn’t cure my craving.  I ate a bowl of frozen blueberries.  Good - but not quite “it”.  Next, I reheated the leftover hashbrowns from breakfast.  Getting closer, maybe.  Finally, I made a berry sorbet with strawberries, blueberries and coconut milk.  I’m full now, but not satisfied.  My brain wants something else.  

I’ve read that refined grains hit the same brain receptors as drugs, and alcohol.  They create an addictive craving.  I really didn’t believe it.  Now I am beginning to wonder if it’s true.  

The main benefit I’ve seen in my previous wheat free attempts has been that each time I nix the wheat, my body begins to get lean quickly.  I lose nearly a pound a day.  The trouble is - I like bread.  No really, I love bread.  I love baking it and eating it and sharing it.  I baked my first loaf of bread when I was only twelve.  It was on a Saturday, after watching an episode of The French Chef in which Julia Child demonstrated pan de mie.  My life changed that day.  I became a baker.  People who know me know my bread.  Baking bread has been part of what defines me. It is with great struggle on several levels that I attempt a respite from all things wheat.  It tampers with a sense of identity.  I am currently displaced in my own kitchen because of this experiment.  I’ve entered an unfamiliar culture.  I am working to adapt so that I can learn something about myself - or at least about my metabolism.

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