SO Update to my last post about being super slow with the stroller since I’ve upped my weekly miles: I ran my tempo run without the stroller this week and I was fine, I hit like slightly under my tempo pace for five miles. So I’m totally blaming the jogging stroller for everything. But you all had some good advice that I’m taking to heart. This whole idea of doing lots of easy runs is new to me, and I’m embracing it. It’s a change of pace but I’m accepting that if I have to run 11 minute miles sometimes with the stroller that’s what I will do. I want to train smart and race fast.
Anyway I want to talk food. Because I love food. And I eat a lot of it. I read this op-ed the other week, about a parent who decided to stop trying to make their picky eater eat their vegetables. I have a very picky eater (four-year-old) and an easy eater (one -year-old). I WAS a very, very picky eater as a kid and yet as an adult, I am an adventurous foodie type. I will eat everything. I love vegetables, bitter greens, brussel sprouts, fish, kale, escarole, radicchio, frisee. I eat that shit for breakfast. I also eat junk and potato chips and brownies and Halloween candy for breakfast, if I want to. I just eat whatever I want. It’s fun, you should try it sometime.
But growing up, my father was of the clean your plate school of parenting. Unfortunately, he was also a terrible cook. Sorry, Dad. He made tasteless frozen vegetables with no salt or fat added. Think mushy, tinny cooked carrots and those big bags of cauliflower mixed with broccoli except the root parts were like mildly undercooked and toothy. It’s a wonder I ever grew up to like vegetables at all.
I had to sit at the table until the food was gone. It did go…into my jewelry box, pockets, the toilet bowl, the closet. We didn’t have a family dog. One time my grandmother came over and mercifully threw away the plate I was still sitting in front of hours later. I was supposed to eat the entire baked potato, skin too. I gagged on every bite. I also had to drink a huge glass of milk with every dinner. Now, don’t get horrified, I wasn’t an abused child, I just had a parent who was concerned about my nutrition in a well-meaning but misguided way. My mom worked nights a lot but if she was home she made much better food and was way more lenient. But I will never forget the horror of being asked to swallow food that I couldn’t get past my tongue.
I wasn’t filling up on too much crap either, I was just a light eater. One time the doctor told my mother I had to gain weight. I think I was like eight. I just preferred to sit around and color and read Sleepover Club novels. This is amusing to me now, because I eat like a famished teenaged racehorse boy. I eat a ton. Like, I eat more than I see most people eat. I don’t know if I have a fast metabolism? I do work out a lot. I’m also not stick skinny.
[Have you heard about that study that connects butt size to brains and longevity? Yeah. I’m way running with this theory. I gotta feed my booty so I can continue to be a superior human being.]
Like right now, I’m about to eat a Kashi roasted vegetable pizza. Now, I’m not sure, is this SUPPOSED to be a personal pizza? Because I’m eating it as one segment of lunch. There was also a leftover bagel half, a Butterfinger I stole from trick or treating loot, a small spinach pie, and there will probably be more after the pizza appetizer.
I kind of love running more, not because I GET to eat more (I will fucking eat as much as I want forever and ever in a manner NOT related to any physical exertion) but because it’s MAKING me HUNGRIER.
But anyway, back to the hot topic of force-feeding kids. My personal experience leads me to be kind of lax on this. I feel like the more it becomes a battle the worse I fare. It is frustrating to deal with Anna’s eating. She’s very picky and is always asking for sweets. She has a tremendous sweet tooth and refuses most vegetables, mixed dishes, and meat.
Right now she’s inexplicably eating lox cream cheese. Who knew she would ever eat that…so I’m going with it. Lox cream cheese for lunch every day it is. At least Henry will eat what I cook.
Were you a picky eater as a kid? Did you grow out of it? Do you believe in forcing your kids to finish their peas? Do you eat like a bird or like you have an intestinal worm like me?