Wednesday, June 18, 2014

why do I always have to be the heavy?


The above pic is our recycling area in the kitchen at work



And here is a close-up of the newest sign posted by yours truly two weeks ago.  

Yes, it's sad that I have to do this, but the problem was solved immediately.  I did try gently asking folks a few months back if they understood not to throw trash into the bin.  They all nodded, "of course, of course."

And then there was the work meeting several years back  when I told everyone we were going to play a fun game.  Yay!  I then placed three different blue recycling bins on the conference table; one labeled cardboard, the other plastics 1-7, the other labeled cans and bottles.  As my co-workers stared at me open-mouthed I then tossed out random recyclable items like a cardboard box that had once housed a cell phone, a sardine can, a plastic bottle, the meeting minutes for that very meeting, and asked my co-workers to try and figure out which bin to throw them in. Put the bottle in the can marked, "CANS AND BOTTLES" and Bingo!  You win!  It reminded me of  Saturday Night Live's Celebrity Jeopardy.  That went over like a lead balloon.

But now we are out of the dark ages in Philly because we have single stream recycling so really all you have to do is STOP PUTTING YOUR TRASH IN THE BIN.  If you don't want to be part of the solution, you're part of the problem, remember that.

Over and out.

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

what any mother would do when her child is drowning

So Wednesday March 5th, 2014 was day I will never forget.

I thought it was going to be epic because I made a big decision at the eleventh hour.  I was feeling energized by it, but also a bit fearful, which is the way life changing decisions are supposed to feel, right? I took the plunge and signed up for Marie Forleo's B-school even though my chalice runneth over right now; and I mean big time. It's a gigantic leap forward in my plan to support myself through entrepreneurship rather than earning my money working for someone else in a job that does not inspire me creatively.  B-school only happens once per year, but the timing for me could not be worse right now.  I am currently selling my house myself, which is shaping up to be way more work than I thought.  Plus working full time, attempting to plan my upcoming trip to Oregon to find a place for the homestead, traveling to PaleoFx in Austin a few weeks later, as well as running my urban homestead here in Philadelphia. Somehow in all that I find time to train but there is no time for much else.  And I'm going to add homework to that?

my kids in the Wissahickon Valley Park

As it turns out, the real drama happened Wednesday around 2pm when I left work to take Mad and Chloe on a walk.  I needed to get some fresh air and mark the importance of my decision by taking a break from the numbers and legal releases I am immersed in all day.  The dogs and I have actually enjoyed this snowy winter on the East Coast that everyone else has been complaining about, because we live near the Wissahickon and work near the John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge, two bucolic islands of green in our concrete and asphalt surroundings.  It is easy for us to duck quickly out of our urban environment and be in the woods in a matter of minutes.  And with the ground in perpetual permafrost this year the the paws stay clean and that ubiquitous snow muffles the sounds of humanity so we can pretend we are already in the Oregon wilderness; when in fact we can have our hike and be back in the office in 45 minutes.   The dogs get to hunt and bound about off leash and I get to dream of of my big plans and walk a mile or two, in solitude.

But Wednesday, what can I say, things went horribly wrong.   I decide to take the dogs on  the "safe" part of the refuge where a man-made peninsula juts out  into the Delaware River about the length of a football field. It is a gas line, but covered with gravel so the dogs' paws don't get terribly muddy when the other side of the park is too swampy.  Water laps at the reeds on both sides of its banks; and I often see herons, deer and turtles there.  We do a quick up and back and head back to the office on most days.


the gasline peninsula at John Heinz

 So Madison, Chloe and I get out of the car and in less than a minute we are walking out to this view above.  I'm talking on the phone with my friend Ted, a rancher out in Oregon, when, Ill be damned,  a deer that was grazing way out on the peninsula became startled at seeing the three of us.  The deer bolts directly at us, since we are blocking his only escape by land.  The sight of a prey animal running directly at her drove Chloe into a frenzy. The deer veered left about 30 feet before it ran into Chloe and leapt into the icy Delaware River, and Chloe jumped right in after it!  I could not believe it.  My dogs never swim in winter's cold waters. They are city dogs who didn't even know how to swim until I taught them in 2010.

"Holy shit my dog just jumped in the river after that deer!" I exclaimed into the phone, and before Ted could say anything, I shouted, "I gotta run, I've got to get this on film...bye!"  Obviously I was still thinking that this was just going to be amusing.  Chloe would quickly realize chasing the animal was futile and she would return and I would hasten the dogs off the peninsula so the deer could make its escape.  Or so I thought. 

Chloe was motoring through the water after the deer, literally in a trance, which happens to dogs with strong prey-drives who get very close to a large mammal they consider a good candidate for dinner.  As I held up my iPhone videoing the event, calling to her, she uttered those guttural yelps and kept swimming out farther and farther until both she and the deer were about 200 feet from shore in 35 degree water.  I shut off the phone and my heart sank. Chloe was a natural swimmer, but at 12 years-old has arthritis and gets very stiff with exercise.  She can't really swim in even warm water for very long, preferring to take short trips across the creek and then rest.

My voice on the 57-second video starts to break in fear, "the deer is drowning, and this is my weak dog who can't  swim for that long....."  I start to scream for Chloe to come back, as I know she only has a few minutes left before her limbs stop moving from the cold, her arthritis and her lack of endurance. I screamed her name but she couldn't even hear me, she was still barking at the deer in that crazy trance.

I watched in fear and horror as the terrified deer tried vainly to leap up onto the ice floe, his front legs slipping off of it each time he reared up out of the water.  As I watch, he tries to leap up one more time and then gives up, exhausted, disappearing under the icy water.  With no prey there to distract her anymore, Chloe, who is so far away now she is barely a little speck of a blond head bobbing in the brown, cold water, looks like she is not going to make it much longer.  She starts to spin around and suddenly realizes she is out in the middle of the damn river.  What had happened?  
Chloe chasing the deer on the way out towards the ice floe, which is about 100 feet from shore

There was no way Chloe was coming back.  I was going to stand here on the banks and watch her drown right in front of her littermate.  How could I ever live with myself?  My voice was almost gone from screaming for Chloe for what seemed like an eternity.  After the deer expired I knew Chloe did not have much time.  I knew she could not swim back in that cold water all by herself.

I took off my coat, pulled out the phone, and called 911.

I was very upset and I remember the dispatcher telling me to lower my voice.  "My dog is drowning in the river."  I was crying now, but my voice was clear.  I knew what I had to do.

"I'm at the John Heinz Wildlife Refuge.  On the gas line side.  You will see my black Infiniti in the parking lot. I'm going in the water to get her.  She's pretty far away, I'm not sure if we will make it back--please send an ambulance."  

"Ma'am...wait... you've got to talk to the medic!"  the man said, trying to keep me on the phone.   All I could think about was Chloe disappearing into that brown icy water, never to be seen again.  
John Heinz under ice
"I have to go now!" I cried and tossed the phone on my coat which I had thrown to the ground.  I told Madison I was going to get Chloe and I and scrambled over the trash, reeds, mud and ice. I was wearing tall suede boots with a thick clunky 3-inch platform.  I started to fumble with the zipper because I knew they would slow me down,  but I decided to keep them on because the seconds were ticking.  Without the deer to distract her and keep that adrenaline racing through her veins, Chloe was going to be toast in a minute. Screw the boots.  And perhaps having them on would save my toes.

I stepped into the mud and debris, my boots slipping on the silty bottom, and I pushed myself forward into the icy brown Delaware, screaming "God, please save my dog, please dear God, please save Chloe...PLEASE!"  I was literally screaming at the top of my lungs in anguish. I don't talk to God very often so I was hoping he might pay attention since he might have forgotten I was down here.  I use this method with my family too.  I figure if I don't often call or make a nuisance of myself by showing up consistently at family events I will always be considered a special guest when I finally do show my damn face.  And this truly was one of the darkest moments of my life. I really did not think I would ever see Chloe again.  But into the water I went, on this surreal March afternoon, heading straight for my faltering dog.

Chloe in beg mode
I really had no idea how long a person can swim in 35 degree F water. I have always been a decent swimmer, and I actually prefer lakes, oceans and streams to chlorine-laden heated indoor pools, but I had no knowledge of how long you last before hypothermia sets in and the limbs go numb.  I figured if I called the ambulance at least they could pull my body out and deliver it to my mother if things went badly.
I had my glasses on and my favorite white sparkly hat, no joke, and I kept my head out of the water, which meant I would swim slower, but the water was so dark without my glasses I would not be able to find her, especially if she started to sink.  I needed my vision, and I thought perhaps if my brain stayed warmer it would keep me going longer.  I had a long way to get out to her and back.  I was so afraid she would not be able to hold out until I got there.  It was sheer, absolute terror, and I  have to tell you I've never pushed so hard in my life; I mean I gave it everything I had.  Two seconds after the water got so deep I was off my feet and swimming I ran into something solid, which smacked me in the chest, knocking the wind out of me.  I pushed it aside and started swimming, as fast as I could.  

"Chloe!" I screamed, crying "hold on Chloe!  I'm coming to get you!  Hold on Chloe!  Chloe!"  I was gasping as the cold water lapped around my face, stinging, mocking my clumsiness.  And so it went.  The water was thick because it was only a few degrees above freezing, and there were sheets of ice in it that cut my chin and neck as I powered through towards my drowning child.  But I could still see her still; just barely, her head was a little mop floating so far away.  I was not even sure if she could hear me. Her body was perpendicular to the water now, just her head bobbing weakly and her back already sunk underneath her when it should have been strong and parallel to the water.  Her arthritic back legs were giving out on her.  I pushed so damn hard, churning through the icy liquid and debris.  This was the hardest swim of my life.  

I don't know how long it took me.  I reached Chloe, and my limbs were already starting to freeze but I grasped her collar and knew there was hope.  There was so much adrenaline running thought my body the cold was not even an issue but for my limbs getting heavy and increasingly useless.  I pulled her towards me and I could see she was scared and confused, and seemed surprised to see me there.  She did not look good.

"Come honey", I said, and pulled her back towards shore, which seemed very far away.  I was scared we would not make it.  The expired deer, which had tried over and over again to hop up onto the ice floe just ten feet from where we were now, had submerged beneath the depths.  

Chloe was not much help swimming back. I had to help her stay afloat, all the time talking to her in a voice that I hoped would not betray how scared I was.  And with one frozen arm around my dog, I started the swim back.  My legs and arms were blocks of ice, and they were feeling more like anchors and less like fins as the minutes wore on.  At one point I was really faltering, and I let go of Chloe's collar, thinking she would follow me.  The shore was just a thin sliver so far away.  Instead, her instincts told her to swim to the nearest land so she spun around and paddled back towards the Ice Floe of Death.  

"No Chloe!  Chloe!" I swam back and grabbed her collar.  We only had a few minutes before we both drowned.  My mother did not deserve my body delivered to her like this.  I pushed, hard, holding my 55- lb dog, coaxing and pleading with her not to give up.  I felt like my circles were getting smaller in the water as my arms and legs were tightening, the blood in my veins moving slower and becoming gelatinous, but I thought of all the 9-hour endurance races I had suffered through.  My life had always been about never giving up. Never. 

About halfway back, as I tugged the dog toward shore still wondering if we were going to make it, suddenly there was Madison paddling towards us, who I could barely see because her black coat blended perfectly with the dark water, and at this point my glasses were wet. Madison aka Super Dog, who is smart enough NOT to jump in cold water no matter what.  But suddenly she was a furry black Angel, because it was at this point when I was not sure if I could keep swimming while holding Chloe.  I was having trouble keeping my own head up with only one arm.  But in a second,  Madison glided over to us as nonchalantly if this were one of our fun swims in the Wissahickon creek in late July. 

"Madison!  I managed to say, my voice weak.

Madison paddled over to us, and did a graceful ark in the water and Chloe put her paws on her sisters back, only for an instant, as Madison turned toward shore supporting her sister as if this had all been choreographed.  And that was all Chloe needed.  She came alive, receiving that gift of energy from the sister with whom she had shared their mother's womb.  And it was what I needed too, because suddenly all I had to do was swim the fifty feet back myself, without the difficulty of dragging a large dog.  And with that we all swam to shore together, Madison leading the way.  I was the last one out of the water, encumbered as I was by clothes, platform boots, and exposed fingers.

I dragged myself back to my coat, my legs buckling under me as I fell to the ground.  My phone rang. My fingers were frozen.  But I answered it.  Thank you touch-screen.

"Ma'am, this is 911.  Are you out of the water?"

I was breathing hard.  My lips were numb, so the words came out garbled and sluggish, like I had a mouth full of ice and dirt, which I probably did at that point.
  
"yes......yes....we are all ....safe."

About 4 seconds later I saw two paramedics walking towards me from the entrance to the peninsula.  I struggled to my feet.  Chloe was shivering, but both dogs seemed okay.  All three of us walked back toward them, and I was giddy, I mean giddy,  elated that my girls were safe.  All of us were safe!   The air, which was about 45 degrees F that day, seemed so warm.  So warm.  

As I walked slowly towards the men, there was a big smile on my face. 

They peppered me with questions.  How long was I in the water?  Did I have any health conditions?  Could I walk faster so I could get out of the cold? 

As I looked towards the parking lot, there were about two cop cars, two unmarked cars, and an ambulance. There were plainclothes officers, uniformed officers, and the paramedics; Jesus, it seemed like the whole town was there in the parking lot to look at the spectre that rose up from the swamp with her two hounds. And no wonder I looked like a ghost.  I looked down at what I was wearing.  As it turned out, I was all decked out in winter white that day: cream leggings, a cream-colored sheer long top with rhinestones, and a cream-colored cropped Bebe sweater.  When I looked down at my soaking wet thighs, it looked like I had nothing on at all.  Nothing. Crap.

No wonder there were so many friendly cops there.

They told me I had hyporthermia; my lips and feet were blue, and I needed to go to the hospital.  I just wanted to go back to work, to take a hot shower, and to make sure the dogs were okay.  They were not having that.  Then I made the mistake of telling them I had a pacemaker, because they asked me and my brain was too foggy to be clever.  Never tell paramedics you have a pacemaker, even if you insist that you only had it "installed" so you could race your damn bike.  Yeah right.  You have a better chance of avoiding the one-way ticket to the ER if you had a knife hanging out of your back.  

So Boss #2 and Gordon came from the office to drive the dogs back to Liberty, where they were left in my heated office to relax on their beds.  The police officers had wrapped Chloe in a blanket and turned on the heat in my car while I was in the ambulance, which I found incredibly cool.  So Chloe was okay, but Madison was very upset that I had been taken away after our trauma and apparently she bolted and led them on quite a chase through the neighborhood looking for me.
Finally warming up at Crozer-Chester Medical Center.
 After the paramedics told the triage team that I had taken a
10-minute swim in the Delaware I was asked if I had a
prior history of mental health issues. 

My heart rate was 155 when I got to the ER, but everything else checked out fine. The shivering that had started after the adrenaline wore off finally dissipated after I got out of the wet clothes. In a few hours I was back at the office where the three of us had a grand reunion.  I could not wait to see Mad and Chloe.  I ripped off my EKG leads as I ran up the stairs, threw open my office door and dove into the dog bed, as I was showered with joyous barks and licks.  I did a few work items (!) before driving the crew home. I was damn tired.
The crew after I had returned from Crozer

I was sad, later, thinking about the deer dying like that.  It is painful to watch the video and see the animal suffer and die, for no reason.  But I am incredibly grateful that I was able to save Chloe, and I can't even imagine how horrible it would have been to have lost her like that, because of my own negligence. 

And yes, those of you who have read this far have realized that in fact, both Madison and Chloe are not my natural offspring but were in fact adopted, but that does not make me love them any less.  If there is a moral to this story, it's just the one that has been said so many times before; and that of course is that you never know what life will throw at you, or when, so don't think your life is going to start when you achieve this goal or that one.  If you are suffering through a bad marriage, poor health, or a soul-sucking job; you need to be doing everything humanly possible to change your situation, now, even if it means you have to remove yourself from the comfort of your carefully constructed delusions.  It's not easy, trust me I know this. Remember, the discomfort you must suffer to achieve any worthy goal is temporary. However with persistence and faith, the results you gain from suffering through it are permanent.

Would you have jumped in the water to save your child?  Your dog?  I would love to hear from you in the comments.  Carpe Diem.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

uprooted

mad and chloe on the campus of Philadelphia University this week
A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.
Oscar Wilde 



And just like that, 2013 is over.  Heck we're almost through the first piece of the twelve-slice cake known as 2014.  And if I have my way it's going to be a gluten-free chocolate torte.

I have to say I'm happy that 2013 is over; it was a difficult and solitary year.  I worked a lot; nose to the grindstone, never losing sight of my goal: to fix up my house so I can sell it for a pretty penny and move away from the East Coast.

I stopped writing in the blog because I needed to spend every extra beat of time working on the house renovations.  In addition to working full time I was managing the various contractors, designing, sourcing and ordering various products, and of course pretty much doing all of the painting myself.  You must understand because I'm a damn artist I had to choose a 5-color paint scheme to showcase my original 1920s woodwork that we had so painstakenly restored down to the bare wood, removing 85 years worth of toxic paint layers with an infrared paint tool.  The result is amazing but I did a lot of the painting with a half inch artist brush, just so you can understand how many hours it took me to cut in all of that detail.
all that dental work was painted by yours truly


The house at 3434 is the hermit shell that keeps our paws dry and provides a place for me to cook all that paleo goodness, but it has also felt like a prison at times since the housing market tanked all over the US.  In the past couple of years all I have wanted to do is get out of here, so I have avoided getting involved with people or projects that could cause me to put down roots.  That's one thing when you're still in your twenties. It's quite another when you are...well...beyond your twenties.  So like I said, it's been a solitary existence, but I know I need to leave this place: my energies are needed elsewhere.

Painting was the easy part.  There is something incredibly satisfying about working with your hands for hours on end; applying pigment to material with deliberate brush strokes that calm the monkey mind.  It frees the brain to ruminate on the bigger picture: beyond what to eat or how to make money.  A lot of self-reflection went on between all the podcasts I listened to up on that roof. It was the year that I said goodbye to the structures that had framed the delusions of my adult life.  And one does not wrest themselves from those demons easily, no, those creatures shake your bones as they leave you.

Ah, delusions, such a strong word  I can hear my mother say.

I come from a long line of Catholics who revel in their delusions.  I've never been fond of this aspect of my upbringing.  I was an odd child born with a giant  metaphorical Eye right smack in the middle of my forehead like a cyclops. I think it might have been God's way of playing a joke on my parents, who have perfected the Art of Denial.  For the first half of my life it seems the Eye was turned inward, and the constant introspection was enlightening but brutal and paralyzing at times.  Somehow in the past half decade or so I came to understand  that Eye's true value lies in her ability to fully understand, in very short order, anyone I come into contact with; either in the real world or the online one.  She protects me from trusting those who are not worth my trust, but she comes with a price.

Eye sees too much.  It can be awkward and painful at times, and I have lost friends as a result of this Knowing.

I can see through people's delusions and facades, and probably always could, but it took a few years to develop the confidence to believe in it. And to be honest,  I don't always desire this information about people. Sometimes whatever they are hiding from themselves is simply, well, not my problem, and the sheer knowledge of it becomes an albatross around my neck.  I blew off my high school reunion this year because that weekend I did not have the energy to wade through the Carnage of Knowing; of trying to reconcile what Eye was telling me with what this or that classmate was trying to project.  It can be exhausting. I wanted to remember everyone as they were in high school, laughing, goofy, optimistic; their lives full of promise and possibility.  I wanted that for myself as well, so I blew off the entire weekend. I had old friends who had flown in from the West Coast to attend.  Probably not my finest moment, but we do what we have to do to survive sometimes.

This summer as I applied those pigments to a house that felt as if it were no longer mine, I decided that my dreams were never going to happen if I kept them locked away on some piece of paper behind my to do lists and bills to pay.  So I am putting them out here for all of the world to peruse and judge with that abject detachment that characterizes these digital transactions.  If there is one positive aspect of not having gotten entangled with another human being in matrimony or co-habitation or whatever; it is that you can cut your losses and get the hell out of dodge when you've had just about enough.  It's just me and the dogs, and the dogs are happy to be anywhere, as long as they are with me.

Yes I know.  If you post your deepest desires up here for the world to see, not only can they laugh at you, which I have never cared much about; but worse; you become accountable.

Vulnerable this little voice in my head whispered.  It sounded a bit like The Little Prince.


'Thats OK" I whispered back, because at this point, there is no turning back.  I've spent the past four years uprooting myself from Philadelphia and in my heart it feels as if I no longer have a place to call home. Everyone needs a home though, so I have to go out and claim one.  I have no choice but to head due West, since those winds have been pulling at me since I was a little girl.  You can only ignore the call for so long before the fiercest of desires, long smoldering in your subconscious, ignites into a fire that illuminates your every waking moment.




Saturday, March 16, 2013

the boomerang effect of multiple antibiotic courses to treat SIBO

So you may have noticed that it's been over 6 months since I finished my ketogenic semi-elemental diet to cure SIBO, or small intestine bacterial overgrowth.  And a whole bunch of life has happened in those months health and otherwise, but for this post I will attempt to stick to the digestive issues.

The semi-elemental ketogenic diet did eradicate the bloating and abdominal distension I would get after eating, but in about 5 days of resuming my (then) normal lacto-ovo pescatarian diet, it came roaring back, just as I feared it would.  The pounds I had  lost eating 1750 calories a day of 69% fat/ 31% protein started to creep back as well.  I was pretty disheartened.  Plus I was super itchy, which is one of the most  vexing symptoms I have suffered from due to the gut dysbiosis: itching, hives, the inability to wear anything around my neck, which is awful for me because I like my neck bling.

It was not for naught, however, because I did succeed in training my body to became more efficient at burning a higher proportion of fat at a given percentage of my V02 Max,  and this had profound impacts on my training as well as on my health.  My LT went up 10 watts. (Obviously this was through training combined with diet, not merely diet)  And of course, as my body became more efficient at burning fat, I suffered through less energy dips, hunger pangs, cravings and brain fog during the day, which is helpful not just for athletes but for those of us who have to actually work as well.

My gastroenterologist, Dr.  Farzana Rashid at Penn, suggested I try different antibiotics the second time around, so she prescribed a combination of Augmentin and Flagyl.  Augmentin itself is a combination of amoxicillin/clavulanate potassium, and Flagyl is metronidazole, so as leary as I was about taking more poison  I agreed to go on this cocktail in the hopes of knocking out the colony in my small intestine, and I started them a week later.  As you can imagine I was feeling pretty desperate at this point.  I also started Amitiza to try and move things along, as it were, but it started making me feel lousy with cramping even after two weeks so I gave up on it.  I hate taking drugs and the ones bestowed upon me by gastroenterologists never work anyway.  I'm the only person who can eat half a large bottle of Mirilax and still not be prepped for a colonoscopy.  

The drug combo certainly killed off a lot of gut bacteria  (please don't ask me how I figured this out) but again 4-5 days after stopping the 2 week course I was having SIBO symptoms again.   I was still feeling as if there were a volleyball in my stomach after eating, and since I only eat fresh foods that I purchase and prepare myself, I was really feeling that despite trying to eat a super clean and healthy, vegetarian, plant-based diet, food was becoming the enemy.  So I would go on periods where I would not eat much at all.  I was not eating any fruit or added sugars, only some xylitol on the low-carb days.  I had stopped eating a 100%  ketogenic diet because of my training schedule, as I needed some carbs to get through my workout and for recovery, so instead I adopted the cyclic ketogenic diet or CKD that bodybuildiers have been using for years to get lean.  In a nutshell you eat low-carb all week, and then have 1-2 "carb-up" days where you eat primarily healthy carbohydrates.

Then at the beginning of September I had an appointment with Dr. Shiple who had been treating me for my thyroid condition known as Wilson's Syndrome.  I had had more bloodwork and we discovered my T3/reverse T3 ratio was still not optimal despite the Armour dose so he brought me up to 4 grains of Armour per day, or 240 mg , a pretty hefty dose for someone my size.  So it was good news that the reason I had gained weight is because my thyroid was on the fritz and my cortisol levels were too high.  Shiple asked me to stop the Pulmicort and cut down the adrenal support glandulars I was taking.  And most importantly, he put me on his Leaky Gut Protocol to try and correct the gut dysbiosis, although he admitted he did not have much clinical experience with SIBO and was not sure how to attack that.  The Leaky Gut Protocol was taking Augmentin daily for a month and Diflucan once weekly for 4 weeks.  Diflucan is an oral antifungal which ostensibly would keep Candida Albicans, an opportunistic fungus that can take over when other treatments or antibiotics have supressed the immune system,  in check while the Augmentin wipes out everything else.  So I filled the prescription on the way home, hopeful that perhaps the third time would be the charm?  Oh my poor microbiome.  Forgive my scorched earth policy but you know I've got to rid myself of this accursed SIBO.


Tuesday, February 12, 2013

day 14: keto-adaptation accomplished, but what about the SIBO?


Sunday August 19, 2012

This morning I went on another road ride, even though after the ride yesterday I only had a teaspoonful of honey in my tea for my recovery carbs.  Not much for glycogen replenishment there.  However, perhaps by sheer force of will I kicked ass on today's ride considering my only carb dose was the same mix of coconut juice, fresh-pressed watermelon juice (pulp strained out) and a splash of tart cherry juice.  I also sucked down an entire flask of raw honey.  I can tell my body has keto-adapted  because I can pull up front at sub-LT power and still be burning a much higher percentage of fat than before I started this experiment.  My metabolic efficiency has really increased.  My average power for the ride was squarely in the endurance zone so I was happy.

Later in the day however, my mood tanked, and I'm not sure why.  Mostly likely because  my body was so tired after the ride and dog walk, or it could have been my disgust that I wasted an entire Saturday afternoon and evening on a weekend when I have a ton of stuff to do with some stranger that now I have to cut loose.  I should be delighted that all of my goals for this diet have been met: I made it the entire 14 days, I'm lean, I worked out my new Paleo diet, I food shopped, I took care of my work and my animals, and I am proud of myself.  However, the original reason I went on this diet was to cure my SIBO that was resistant to Rifaximin and Neomycin, and I think I'm truly terrified to start eating normal food again.  I'm afraid to be back in the same damn place.  Well, at least I learned we all can thrive with a lot less carbohydrate in our diets.  Trust me if I can do it as an endurance athlete, you can too.


day 13: cycling in the carbs for the road ride

Saw Mill climb on ketogenic semi-elemental diet.  ouch.

Saturday August 18, 2012

So today was the final weekend of the diet and I was determined not to have to bail on my Saturday ride like the week before when I was barely keto-adapted.  The group road ride was very tough on a liquid diet, and while I did not eat carbs all week, I had to drink some on Friday to try and flush some glycogen in my muscles or I would never make it, that much I knew.  Then of course during the ride on Saturday morning I drank fresh-pressed watermelon and tart cherry juice mixed with coconut water  plus an entire flask of Hammer Gel, which meant I did have fructose, and maltodextrin actually, but it worked!  I did it: I somehow survived a 3-hour group road ride and I was up front pulling a lot as usual.  I could not believe I was 4th out of 16 up the Saw Mill climb which was incredible because my legs were just screaming in agony.   And granted I usually pull to keep the pace of the ride steady, which means, for those of you who are not cyclists, I am often the person (or persons, if the group rides 2 x 2) up at the front of the group taking the brunt of the wind and doing 30% or more work, measured in power, than those behind me who I am "pulling."  I was pretty amazed I made it to the end of the ride.  I averaged 191 watts for 5.5 minutes up the hill, which might not seem like much until you realize I did it after losing 14 pounds in 13 days and ingesting a liquid, ketogenic diet consisting of nothing but coconut oil and casein.  I was tired by the end of the ride though and most of the day afterward which is not like me, I mean really, truly spent.

A guy from Colorado who I met online showed up on my doorstep and so wanted to just spend the night here, but I was not having it.  He was back on the East Coast to visit his family and was en route from DC to Long Island so it was not terribly far out of his way, but I was too tired for an extended visit, and my exhaustion probably contributed to him getting on my nerves.  It does not take much when you have not eaten food in 2 weeks.  So I sent him on his way.

One more day.  Piece of cake.


Wednesday, January 2, 2013

the ketogenic semi-elemental diet day 12: chasing sheep on a low-carb diet

Santa Fe, NM 2004


Friday August 17, 2012

Well I have to say the tossing and turning at night is getting old, and I never was one to thrive on chronic poor sleep, especially as an athlete.  I am reading on the forums that is's pretty common to sleep like shit on a low-carb diet, which might be another reason I might want to reconsider continuing this long-term.   I was psyched that I am 118.4 this am; it looks like unless the carbs I will eat today and tomorrow for the 4 hour road ride interfere with fat loss (hypothetically they should not because even though I will take in extra 300 kilocalories as carbs tomorrow above the 1650 allotment for the day,  I usually burn anywhere from 1400 to 2400 on a typical Saturday ride.)  I'm going to have 56 g of carbs today, which is well above what I've been consuming in order to finally get my blood ketone levels up to where they've been the past couple of days; and I'm curious to see how that will affect the ketone meter tonight.  According to some, once you have keto-adapted you can actually creep up your carb intake a bit, although it seems most have to stay around 50g per day.  Just as a point of reference, there are around 60g of carbs in a large baked potato, and about 31 in a large banana.  So for a daily intake, 56 grams is pretty darn low.

I started this diet at 132 lbs, although I had gained 5 lbs while on the antibiotlics for the SIBO, and that was mostly water, but so far I am down 14 lbs in less than 2 weeks.  Wow.  A lot of that is water, and unfortunately a decent amount is lean mass too, and although my stomach is flat I still have a layer of fat over my midsection which has to go.  My body composition is probably around 17%; I would prefer it at 14% with me at around 115-116 ish, which is where it was a few years ago before the SIBO started.  The challenge will be to do this while eating food.  I'm going to have to count calories for a couple of weeks which I hate to do because it's obsessive, time-consuming, and completely goes against my belief that eating healthy, nutrient-dense food should be a pleasure and the shortest route to a beautiful lean, strong body.  I hate to obsess over macro-nutrient partitioning when I would rather spend my time using my creative energy  to create delicious, inventive, healthy meals that satisfy AND nourish.  But I will have to suck it up initially as this is a scientific experiment after all and the results will mean nothing without some hard data as to calories and macro-nutrients.

My plan now is to finish out through Sunday on the semi-elemental ketogenic diet, and then continue to eat keto for the week with food and keeping my carbs less than 30g per day and see if I ever get that energy spike they talk about on the bodybuilding forums.  No matter that I'm only in the gym three days a week, and my needs as an endurance athlete are very different from those of a gym rat.  I know, I know, I do lots of cardio.  I have pretty much decided through more research that as a cyclist the strict classic ketogenic diet as described by Lyle McDonald and many others is NOT for me, but I will do a version of low-carb diet.   The other option I am looking at is the cyclic ketogenic diet, where I could eat carbs on the weekends to fuel those longer efforts.  And then there is the question of whether or not I start eating meat again.  I am attracted to the paleo diet, but the problem with paleo is there is no dairy or beans, which means no homemade yogurt, kefir,  or hummus.  I mean if you're not eating wheat, beans or soy, and you're an athlete, you really have to start eating meat again I'm thinking.  I certainly tried the alternative.