We're back from a weekend in gorgeous upstate New York, all in one piece but not without war wounds!
Right -- let's get to it. I would give myself a C- on the eating front this weekend. It wasn't as awful as it could have been, but there were moments that got away from me.
I read Cindy's blog while I was upstate and she talked about the importance of fighting back against eating cues that send us into a feeding frenzy. It immediately dawned on me that going to the cabin sets off many cues for me -- namely, that we are in a beautiful, big log cabin, much bigger than our apartment in NYC, and the joy of being in a big kitchen, with so much space to move around and cook sets off both me and the boyfriend.
It brings me back to my rural New England childhood and our cozy house in the woods. Before I counted calories or worried about what I was eating. And I think the B/F has the same response -- we just go a little crazy when we get up there.
Here are the brass tacks. A late, late, late and rainy, dark drive up Friday night meant getting dinner close to midnight at the local diner. Grilled cheese and tomato sandwich, with a small order of fries -- not as terrible as they sound, as they were baked, not fried.
Saturday it was cold and rainy. To the Sheep and Wool Festival! Check out these guys -- who are obviously not sheep. There are a surprising number of Llama and Alpaca farms in upstate New York.
So, some of you will remember that I mentioned a certain craving for Apple Cider Donuts. When we first got there I could not find any -- although I did see the same food cart selling fried pierogies that I saw at the Garlic Festival. Ick! Almost as gross to me as Cotton Candy, which is really the one childhood treat I could never bring myself to eat. As we walked around the stalls and vendors, I began to panic. Could it be that there was not one single Apple Cider Donut to be found?
Turns out they had simply sold out when I got there. A second batch came in as we strolled around and I luckily found them.
I had one, although it was VERY hard to hold myself to just that. They were smallish, for donuts, which is good. To answer questions about what they are (Peridot and Dr. Fit to Fat asked), they are simply donuts made with fresh apple cider, and rolled in a combo of brown sugar, sugar and cinnamon. Ohhhh boy.
The next day the sun dawned and it was time to work it all off with a moderate hike up to the Giant Ledge. The hike was sort of steep, but not too bad. The challenge, however, was the footing. It was rocky, very very rocky, and muddy and slippery. And in places we had to use hands and feet to avoid sliding downwards. Check it out.
The first part was gorgeous - Ichabod Crane country.
Then it started to get very vertical, although someone kindly cut out some stone steps for part of it.
When we got to the trailhead, there was a fire engine and paramedic team standing by. Turns out a hiker had hurt himself part way up, and given the intense rockiness and steepness, it was quite a feat to organize a way to get the man out.
It was more than little disconcerting to come across the rescue team as we hiked up the slippery terrain!
Finally we got to the top -- and the views were amazing, and totally worth the effort (which took quite a toll on my bad knee, I must say). Here I am, catching some rays and my breath.
So all that remained was to refuel -- pears, prunes, a little trail mix, water and a ham-n-cheese sandwich (made and carried by the handy boyfriend) -- and walk back down. Easy, right?
Except downhill is often the most challenging. You're tired, a little unfocused, thinking about what comes next -- hot tub and dinner, in my case, and it's all too easy to take a tumble or a misstep and turn an ankle. Or worse!
As I picked my way C-A-R-E-F-U-L-L-Y downhill, around the muddy and slippery leaves, I kept replaying over and over to myself the horrors of putting a foot wrong. Above all, I dreaded the thought of having to say my size or weight to rescuers deciding if they could carry me out or have to call a helicopter. I would, naturally, require a Shamu-sized lift out via whirly-bird.
This is what I navigated for the hour-long trek down, as I chanted "don't fall, don't fall, don't fall."
Of course, only one thing could happen, right?
Thank goodness, it was a simple slip. I didn't hurt a knee or an ankle on the way down, but did smash my palm and and forearm onto a rock. I don't mind telling you that the pain shot right through me and I saw stars! It was a corker of a landing. The b/f said I went down in slow motion and had a look of abject terror on my face (because I was thinking for sure I'd blow out a joint).
In the end, my poor palm took the worst of it.It doesn't look that bad, but it was a nasty scrape and it hurt like the dickens.
Once the pain subsided, I immediately started entertaining thoughts of taking a week off from work due to my terrible sprain. Would love it!
But alas, turned out to be nothing but a wee wrenched wrist, a bruise and a scrape. Not enough to warrant medical leave!
Right, so enough of the drama. On Saturday I ate not too badly at the fair, but over-indulged a little that night (chips and salsa). Not too much, but more than I had wanted.
Sunday night, after a day of hiking, we had a lovely dinner of roast chicken, but again I over did it. Most of the time I was restrained, but the weekend was one long struggle. I kept hearing EVL's (evil little voices) telling me to EAT, EAT, EAT!
I would say that all things considered I did ok. The point being that nobody is perfect, and some days the temptations are less .... well, tempting than on others. This was not one of those times, but it could have been way, way worse. And I now have an excuse to buy new hiking boots. I never would have fallen if I weren't wearing sneakers!
February 18th, 2018 Without Limits
5 hours ago