Destination Discipline

It was 5:45am and pitch black. I was 30 minutes into my bike ride and climbing the most difficult hill on my course when my bike started to wobble. I heard the flap-flap-flap that indicated my tire was flat. Nearly 5 miles from home and no spare inner tube on hand, I was forced to call my husband. He is not a morning person and is always fearful about bad things happening to me on the wild streets of North County. I knew I would never hear the end of it. Need I add I was frustrated and embarrassed? An older gentleman walked by and stared at me. “Flat tire, eh?” No, I just like standing on the side of the road in the dark holding a bicycle on Tuesday mornings. Catch you next week same time?

I endured the lecture on the drive home. I tried not to cry but did not succeed. At the time my biggest concern was that I didn’t get my full workout in. My theory is, when in danger, pretend there is no danger. But as I fully processed the misfortunate chain of events I began to think about all of the terrible things that could have happened to me. Omitting the crimes that could have occurred to me at the hands of passersby, I thought about the hill I had just flown down before the tire went flat. If the tire had gone out 1 minute sooner, I could have lost control and been thrown into traffic. After the cycling accident I had last year, where I broke my front teeth, I probably never would have stepped foot on a bike again. That is if I lived through it.

Last summer I was riding at Creve Coeur Lake Park when a man, who was not paying attention, nearly crashed into me. I swerved off the path and caught myself before I crashed. He was not so lucky. He swerved and fell on the pavement. He was not wearing a helmet. He hit his head and broke his “good” hip. I held a rag on his head to stop the blood from gushing out of his cranium while we waited for the paramedics. I listened as he called his wife and learned he had recently endured a hip replacement. That is the kind of do-over no one wants to experience. We could not have been going more than 5 miles an hour. You can imagine what happens to someone who loses control while careening down a hill on a bike at 25 mph.

Still, I was really irritated about the flat. My husband was mad at me. My workout was ruined. I have to buy more inner tubes(I had recently replaced another flat). And that is IF my husband lets me ride my bike again. I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the way to work(no calling in sick!) thinking about the long day ahead, all the while simmering until my pot was ready to boil. That was after wrestling with my youngest beastlet just to get him out the door to Grandma’s. What a fantastic way to start the day.

I had two choices this morning. I could stomp into work, scowl at everyone and continue to simmer about my bad fortune or, I could embrace my blessings, be thankful I’m not in the hospital or the morgue and move on. I chose the latter. I gave my irritation to Jesus. I smiled at the people at work and I thanked God I was alive to tell this tale.

I opened my devotion book when I had a break at work. Joni Eareckson Tada wrote this for September 17: “Somebody’s watching. When a young mother in her wheelchair perseveres through loneliness, when an elderly widow keeps leaning on Christ, when Christians in dark corners of the world hold on to God’s grace, the entire spiritual world stands on tiptoe, wondering, ‘How great their God must be to inspire such loyalty!’ If you’re alone, thinking no one cares, don’t give up the battle. Remember, somebody is watching, somebody cares. And you might even hear the rustling of their wings.”

We all choose how we respond to adversity. To be honest, I like to embrace the occasional bad mood. But peace comes when we let go of our anger and frustration and move forward.

Those who know me have heard me talk about a woman I worked with at The Fed. Her husband left her for another woman after 20+ years of marriage. She was resentful and bitter and lashed out at everyone who crossed her path. She always wore a look on her face that was reminiscent of someone who regularly sucked on lemons. I believe she had every right to be angry. But when anger festers, it can grow into a monster. I choose not to take that path. Any time I consider it, I think of her.

May God always grant me a grace-filled perspective. Even over trivial things like a flat tire.

I woke up tired and sore this morning. And weary. Did I mention weary? And I did my Saturday routine and then I suited up and ran out the front door. I didn’t feel like it. See, I’m a failure. I keep goofing up with food. But I decided to keep moving anyway. Today is a new day.

The sun sparkled down like a fountain and my eyes blinked at its brightness. I walked up the first hill and down. I jogged a little. And then I saw it….the blue sky against the brilliant green trees. As the tree rats scattered and scampered I caught my breath. I was cold and it was exhilarating.

The shadows that had gathered under my eyes dissipated. My heart leapt. Everywhere I looked there was light. I soaked in every sun drop and every cool breeze. And I forgave myself for yesterday.

This morning was high noon in the valley of the shadow. I ran down Florissant Road praising God and singing. I waved at cars and at my neighbors. They half-heartedly waved back. “There’s that crazy girl again,” they thought. I’m still moving. I’m not giving up. Today is glorious. How about you?

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and feel so broken. I feel as if my heart shrank in the night and my body is withering. Melodramic? Yes, but true. I climb out of bed and I pull on my workout clothes and I speed off into the morning air. Summer is officially over so instead of sunshine I find myself wandering in the darkness. I remember vividly the look my husband gave me last night as I munched on my ice cream cone. The “are you really eating that?” look. And I am overwhelmed with guilt and the feeling of failure. Why can’t I resist treats? Why are they so alluring? Why do they make me feel so good when I know they are so bad for me?

Each day is a new day but I am “haunted by the hounds of addiction.” (Andrew Peterson wrote that). My lust for food never goes away. And sometimes I grow so weary of fighting it. But fight it I must.

Who can I blame today for my problems? Um, well, I could blame the makers of ice cream for making it so tasty. I could blame the advertisers for selling it so well. Have I mentioned lately how much I love Dairy Queen commercials? They totally make me drool. I could blame Aldi for selling it cheap. I could also blame my children for screaming for it every night when I eliminate it from the house. But thing is, I really have no one to blame but myself.

My struggle with addiction to food confounds me. I wish there was a methadone pill that would take away the cravings. But it’s not the cravings that kill me. It’s the desire buried deep in my heart that screams for relief from life’s problems. Food numbs me. After I eat ice cream I am able to fall asleep peacefully. When I skip it I actually get jittery and struggle to rest. Now I know that if I can make myself go without it for a week or two, I can get past it. I’ve done enough reading to understand the way my brain responds to sugar and once I have lubricated my neural pathways, it takes “a minute” to set them right again.

Now some people tell me, “Margaret, you have to treat yourself now and again.” And that’s true. My fundamental problem is, when I treat myself, I can’t stop. If I eat an ice cream cone each night, then I need 2 the next night. Or, I’ll double down on chocolate syrup or something else equally bad for my body. My tolerance for indulgence will continue to climb until I literally cannot find a feeling of satisfaction. That is why I got to be as heavy as I was. Some people get sick when they overdo it with sweets. Not me. I used to make cookies and sit down and eat 2 dozen. And that was AFTER I ate my dinner. Crazy, huh?

This morning I remembered something glorious. My struggle with these demons will not last forever. While I am on this earth it will be difficult but when I die, and God gives me a new body, I won’t fight with my desire to overeat anymore. It was such a wonderfully happy thought that I started to cry. Some people might call my faith foolishness but that’s okay. Everyone is entitled to their beliefs. Mine gives me peace. I literally cannot imagine living with this curse forever. And I have peace knowing it is temporary.

My husband is so good to me. Last night we discussed my ice cream problem. (Keep in mind that he loves ice cream too). He reminded me that my children will not die without ice cream in the house. He told me he can make the sacrifice to live without it to save me from the temptation(sometimes I do have the willpower to resist but it’s difficult). He said eating ice cream every night is “a bad habit we’ve all gotten into.” And he said, “I will deal with the children when they start crying about it.” And I was so relieved. Thank God for him. Even better, he doesn’t judge me when he finds me licking an ice cream cone as I hide in the back of my room. What more can you ask for from a mate?

I realize this post isn’t very inspiring. I’m sorry about that. I feel like I’m letting everyone down. Unfortunately, this is my daily struggle. And while there are many good things happening in my life, and I feel like a baby whining about food, this is my reality. I hate that food takes up such a large space in my brain and I truly wish I didn’t think about it all the time. But there is grace too for this. For others who continue to struggle, please don’t give up. I’m not giving up either. Defeat is temporary. Giving up is permanent. Amen to that!