Anne the Vegan

Is Choosing a Vegetarian or Vegan Lifestyle a Trauma Response?

Exploring the connections between diet choices and mental health

This story is both scientific and personal.

In taking a continuing education course on trauma-informed care as part of my ongoing training as a physical therapist. I was surprised to find a few things listed under some common characteristics and conditions of those who have survived trauma. Asthma was one, which is also known as a highly inflammatory disease. But the surprise was a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle. This revelation definitely made me raise an eyebrow.

I had chosen a course focused on practicing trauma-informed care since almost all of my patients seem to be recovering from the traumatic events related to whatever brought them into the hospital. I always welcome gaining insight into how to better connect with those in my care. The typical manifestations of trauma are seemingly easy to recognize while working with my patients.

But how does trauma relate to choosing a plant-based diet? This question led me to do some research.

First of all, let me disclose that I am a survivor of childhood sexual assault, I have asthma that developed in my early adulthood, and I also happen to be vegan. When the slide denoting these two things as connected to trauma popped up on my computer, I was immediately engaged with the presentation.

I never thought of my diet choice as a trauma response, but I acknowledge that I derive a certain sense of satisfaction from having control of my diet. A functional medicine doctor convinced me to transition from a vegetarian diet to a vegan diet to help manage inflammation, one manifestation of which is asthma, another depression.

A quick Google search doesn’t truly reveal an answer to my question. Most studies or articles relating to this typically approach plant-based diets as either a cause of mental illness or as an illness itself. One article goes so far as to group veganism under the umbrella of avoidance restrictive food intake disorder.

However, most of the survey style studies showed that those who adopted a vegetarian or vegan diet did so after the onset of depression or anxiety. So the diet doesn’t cause mental illness.

Positive takes on plant-based diets do exist. A scientific study correlates vegetarian lifestyles with healthy mood states. One article discusses veganism as a logical outcome of the moral reckonings of highly sensitive and emotionally intelligent people. Still, other resources cite plant-based diets as a means of healing from trauma.

The only experience I have to relate to the correlation between diet choice and trauma survival is my own. I began my journey to going vegan as a pescatarian when I was 18. I gave up meat because the thought of eating sentient beings disturbed me. And why is that?

A truck carrying chickens to a processing plant. Always a sad sight for me. I used to keep chickens and learned how amazing they are as creatures. Photo by author.

Living my life through a trauma lens made me more empathetic to all the suffering in this world, including that of animals. Why is it right for me to eat a cow or pig? They experience fear and sadness just like humans. And my empathy for these creatures is immense.

I recently went to see Avatar 2 with my daughter. It was really emotional for me. There is whale hunting involved. Understanding the relationship that the fictional Na’vi people have with the wildlife in their midst, it was excruciating to watch these parts. I sobbed like a baby. If James Cameron is trying to convince everyone to adopt a vegan diet like him, he did a pretty convincing job!

Perhaps as a vegan, my reaction to these scenes was different and more powerful than for most viewers. But James Cameron certainly did his best to evoke an emotional response from his audience.

But still, my real question remains unanswered. Does trauma contribute to choosing a diet that avoids exploiting animals? I’m not even sure if the topic is worth researching or even if a real conclusion can be reached.

To my fellow plant-based eaters, if you are also survivors of trauma, I send you the biggest, warmest hug. I’d also like to know if your experience with trauma helped lead you to a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle.

Regardless, I can’t imagine going back to eating animals at this point in my life. It’s been nearly 6 years. I don’t miss eating meat. And the longer I live this way, the more I see all living beings as deserving of compassion and respect. I do not wish to be responsible for inflicting trauma on any other sentient being. This I can live with. But is my diet choice helping me heal from my own trauma? That is yet to be determined.

___________

Have you ever heard of the correlation between plant-based diets and surviving trauma? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

Vegan Succotash Chowder

Some ideas for recipes just come to me on a whim, like when I’m on a run. That’s how the idea for this chowder developed.

Succotash was one of those vegetable side dishes I grew up with that I had to learn to love, but once I did, it became a comfort food. Nostalgia can be nice.

There’s something about a warm cup of goodness filled with corn, baby lima beans, and potatoes in a rich, vegetable-based broth that sounded really appealing! So, I went to work on bringing this idea to fruition. You will love the results as much as my family and I did!

I used frozen corn and lima beans here, but you can easily substitute fresh, especially in the summer months when these ingredients are plentiful at farmer’s markets.

Ingredients:

1 onion, diced

2 cloves garlic (or store-bought minced garlic or two frozen garlic cubes)

1 celery stalk, diced

1/4 cup flour

Olive oil

1 carton vegetable broth

2-3 large gold potatoes or equivalent, peeled and cut into uneven slices

1 small package frozen Lima beans (10-12 oz)

1 small package frozen corn (10-12 oz)

Salt and pepper to taste

1 T Seasoning salt (I like Trader Joe’s Chicken-less or Lidl)

Onion salt to taste

1 cup plant milk (I like Silk 10g Protein Milk, plain unsweetened)

Directions:

In a large soup pot or Dutch oven, saute the onion and garlic in a bit of olive oil over medium heat until just beginning to brown.
Add the seasoning salt.
Add the celery and continue to saute until beginning to soften.
Add another tablespoon or so of olive oil, then sprinkle in the flour, stirring to combine with the oil and veggies.
Add broth gradually, mixing the flour into the broth.
Add the frozen veggies and sliced potatoes.
Bring mixture to a boil, then reduce heat to low.
Cover and simmer until potatoes are tender, about 20 minutes.
Add plant-based milk and stir.
Add salt, onion salt, and pepper to taste.
Serve with crackers or toast!
If you are gluten-free, substitute 2 T cornstarch for the flour.

Cutting the potatoes in uneven slices lets them break down a bit as they cook, further thickening the soup. See the video below where I cut potatoes and onions for another vegan soup recipe, but this is the method I used for the potatoes in this recipe.

___________

If you try this recipe, take a photo and share it on Instagram, tagging me @annecreates.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

A Dozen Life Lessons I Taught My Daughters

My themes of parenthood

Motherhood was not something I truly contemplated. I just assumed that I would be one someday. It’s an expected part of life as a woman, at least of one my age. (I’m pushing 50.) That being said, I was lucky enough to give birth to two amazing daughters with an equally amazing life partner.

Raising girls these days can be especially challenging, walking the fence of the nuances of improving the lives and rights of women while continuing to satisfy the patriarchal world in which we live. I simultaneously want to help them burn all the bras and protect them from potential abuse and harassment. It’s not a simple task.

I raised my girls through a trauma survivor’s lens. I’m not sure if this was the right thing to do, but it did seem to protect them, for the most part, from abuse. As part of this view, I also taught them skills to promote self-advocacy and independence. I knew that I couldn’t be there every moment to protect them. So they needed the skills and confidence to protect themselves.

Here are a few lessons I repeated often to my girls:

If someone tells you not to tell your parents, or you will get in trouble, that’s exactly when you need to tell us what’s happening. Because that person is definitely doing something wrong. This is especially true when it comes to abuse. It’s a big red flag that requires the attention of a trusted grown-up.
Real names for body parts. My girls knew the appropriate terms. I still recall how my then 2 ½ year old proudly announced while we were in line to buy food at a restaurant (loudly!) that boys have penises, and girls have vaginas. I affirmed her declaration. It was Ash Wednesday. I remember the shocked expression of the man in line behind us, ashes on his forehead. It’s still one of my favorite stories!
If you find yourself in over your head and in a bad situation, call me, and I will pick you up, no questions asked. We will discuss it later, but you will not get into trouble. My girls never took me up on this offer, so I’d like to think that they never found themselves in a sticky situation where peer pressure snowballed into a bad time.
You can always blame me for the reason you cannot do something. Are your peers trying to talk you into something nefarious? Make me the bad guy. I don’t care. Just stay safe.
In managing conflict at school, I always encouraged my daughters to try to resolve issues on their own first, talking with them about the problem and offering ways to discuss issues with their teachers. If that didn’t work, I would step in. My girls are both very good at advocating for themselves now, which is especially important as they navigate college and enter adulthood.
When I did need to step in to help resolve problems at school, there was a meter for my involvement, from “nice email” to “Defcon 4.” I always let my kids have input in the ferocity of my intervention.
Don’t be afraid to take calculated risks. This includes trying new things or traveling to new places. We have been able to send our girls on international trips with their high school. We’ve also encouraged them to step out of their comfort zones from time to time, like trying out for the school musical.
You should never change or abandon your goals because of a relationship. Until you have children, your priority should be you. It’s a lesson my own mother taught me. My older daughter did an overnight trip at a college she was considering. She was still in high school. When I picked her up, she told me immediately that this was not the school for her. The reason? All the girls she met were looking for a husband. They weren’t serious about getting an education. That’s my girl!
Purity is a religious and social construct. Certainly, sex is not to be taken lightly, and involves a lot of emotional attachment, but a choice to become sexually active does not make you a bad person. It simply means you are human.
All people are born good. I had to undo a teaching from the fundamentalist church down the street from us, a church where we had family as members. They hosted many fun events for kids, and my children attended. Things like Trunk or Treat and Easter egg hunts. But their beliefs included that all people are born bad, and could only become good through the salvation of Jesus, and this was explicitly taught at one of these events. That’s a lot for a 4-year-old to take in, and it had to be undone. No one should ever tell a child they just met that they are a bad person.
You do not have to become a mother. Your contributions to society can be extremely valuable without creating new humans. That choice is yours, and yours alone. In no way will I ever pressure my children to make me a grandmother. But if I do become a grandmother, I will love and cherish those babies!
Morality is subjective. You can be a good person and not go to church. I know plenty of awful people who think they are good just because they park their butts in a church pew every Sunday. Likewise, laws can be immoral. Just because a law is on the books, doesn’t make it right, especially if it strips people of basic human rights and bodily autonomy.

My daughters are no longer girls. They are young adults. They are, quite simply, amazing humans. As one is wrapping up her college career and the other is preparing to begin hers, I couldn’t be more proud of them.

I hope that my guidance has prepared them to be successful in pursuing the only goal that really matters: to find what lights your soul on fire and be happy.

___________

Did you find that you had certain themes in your parenting style? I’d love to hear about it!

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

That’s a Wrap!

My year in running in 2022

Oh, this sport. Running has been a part of my life now for 10 years. For 8 of those, I have run at least one spring half marathon and a fall full marathon. This year was no exception. Adding to my activities were a few leadership roles. And despite having Covid in August, I still managed to run over 700 miles, including 4 official half marathons, one 10k, a 5k race series, and a full marathon.

Races

Spring was all about half marathons. I ran the Sports Backers half on the Virginia Capital Trail in March, the Blue Ridge half in Roanoke in April, and the Uncorked Half in New Kent County in May. My favorite of the three was Blue Ridge, and I will be back to run again in 2023, but this time, I plan to conquer the full.

I ran the Monument 10k virtually. The live race conflicted with my race schedule. Technically, I have run this race every year since 2013!

In July, I ran the Richmond Road Runners Club Cul-de-Sac 5k series. This is an evening race in the heat and humidity that is summer in Virginia. I hadn’t planned to run this, but was absolutely persuaded by the swag for finishing all 3 races: a pair of Goodr sunglasses. It was worth it!

Right after this, I contracted Covid. And after 3 weeks of no running because I was too ill to do so, I made the rather poor decision to run the Ashland Half Marathon in late August. I paid for the race, and I was going to finish. Besides, it was only a half marathon! That was my reasoning. I made it just after the cutoff. I don’t recommend running a race of this magnitude so soon after Covid to anyone!

My fall marathon was undecided until August. Even though I train with Sports Backers with a schedule that prepares one for running the Richmond Marathon, as a coach, I’m on the course race day. Sports Backers reimburses us for running a different fall race. I chose the Chessie Trail Marathon in Lexington, VA this year, which is a one and done for me.

I loved that two of my races were “racecations.” It’s always fun to take a little weekend trip out of town, especially if it involves friends and running! Both of my trips were in the mountains, my happy place.

In November, I was on the course of the Richmond marathon. It was extremely hot that day, but all of our runners finished!

Public Speaking

Never did I imagine myself speaking in public, but the organizers of the Richmond VegFest asked me to talk about my vegan journey and how it affected my running. I was honored to do so, calling my speech My Vegan Evolution. I was really happy to see so many friends there! I also met a few of my friends from Instagram in real life!

Leadership Roles

My year began with being asked to serve on the board of the Richmond Road Runners Club. This morphed into being nominated to serve as the VP of Marketing on the executive board. It took some convincing, but I finally agreed. By the time I truly figure out what I’m doing, it will be time to pass the baton. But it’s been fun so far.

Also with the club, I stepped up as assistant editor of our quarterly magazine, Miles and Minutes. In addition to curating issues, I’m a regular contributor. It’s truly a joy to write about running and to give others an outlet for their thoughts and information as well.

I also returned as an assistant coach with the Sports Backers Marathon Training Team, joining my fellow coaches with the Pink Nation, our subteam. This was my 4th year in this role. Helping new marathoners reach their goals never gets old!

Challenges

Personally, my year has been challenging. Covid in August happened the week I was supposed to be on vacation. My time off was far less enjoyable than I’d planned. I’m still not fully recovered, my running pace a solid minute slower than my baseline. My family also helped take care of my father-in-law who required 24-hour care, succumbing to Parkinson’s disease in October. I also lost my own father right after Christmas.

Looking ahead

January begins with two goals: abstaining from alcohol and completing a run streak. The last time I attempted a dry January, I made it 10 days. Let’s hope I can do better this year. And although I generally am not a fan of run streaks, I will do them from time to time. My hope is to gain a bit more consistency with my training. My streaks are basically maintaining my planned running schedule, running one mile on the days I would typically not run. That’s the trick for me for avoiding overuse injuries.

Planning my spring race schedule, the only thing I have on the books for certain is the Blue Ridge Marathon. I have several friends running this distance, so we can all climb the mountains together (there are 3!) It certainly earns its title of America’s toughest road race! Goals should be lofty enough to scare you just a bit. This will be marathon 11 for me!

As far as leadership roles go, I will complete my term as VP with my local run club, I will continue to help edit Miles and MInutes, and I plan to return to my coaching role with Sports Backers marathon training team.

Community

As with most endeavors in athletics, it’s the community that makes it great. I could not have done any of this without the support of the Richmond running community. I’m so lucky to live and run here!

__________

Do you have some intentions on creating healthy habits in the new year? I’d love to hear about it!

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

___________

Lead photo: Pexels free image for WordPress. Second: At the star on Mill Mountain during the Blue Ridge half marathon. Third: those sweet Goodr sunglasses that were the swag for the 5k series. Fourth: During the Chessie Trail Marathon. Fifth: on the Lee Bridge during the Richmond Marathon. Sixth: At the Richmond VegFest in September. Seventh: With my fellow Pink Nation coaches. Eighth: One issue of Miles and Minutes magazine.

On Becoming the Other Side of the Sandwich

When your time in the “middle” of the sandwich generation is running out

We lost my father-in-law in October. His passing, although challenging, was expected. It was a slow process that really began 6 years ago when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s. We watched helplessly as the disease robbed pieces of him from us bit by bit. In his final months, he required around-the-clock care, including toileting, which required the assistance of two people.

The end wasn’t as peaceful as obituaries always claim. “Mr. Smith died peacefully with family by his side.” Blah. There’s nothing truly peaceful about the process of dying.

I had hoped that my family would get a break from dealing with loss, at least for now, but the universe had other plans.

The day after Christmas, I had just sat down to relax after a long day of work, grocery shopping, and cooking and cleaning up from dinner, when the phone rang. It was my mother. She was in the ER with my dad.

My dad has had his own medical issues since the pandemic began, starting dialysis to augment the job that his failing kidneys could no longer do. I think that because his reasons for kidney failure didn’t include diabetes, he thought that his odds for life beyond the average time one survives when you depend on machines to filter your blood were pretty good.

Well, he had a few rough days, and the day after Christmas was especially tough. He spent most of the day in bed. My mom described the syncopal episode and fall that led to his ambulance ride to the hospital. By the time she called me around 7:30, he was essentially non-responsive. I made the journey from Richmond to the hospital in Tidewater.

I was aghast at what I saw when I entered his room. He looked so much like my father-in-law did in the last week of his life. His breathing was labored, shallow, and rapid. His color was off. The only way I could describe it is a yellowish grey.

I forgot my glasses in the car. I was honestly a little relieved that I had an excuse to get my emotions in check before returning. On my way to get them, I called my husband and told him I didn’t think my dad would make it out alive. This was it.

Unfortunately, I was right. He was intubated in the ER. He had a room in the ICU by the time we left. It was 4:30 in the morning, and my mom and I had not slept. He seemed stable enough to go home and get a little rest. In that hour at home, he coded. They were able to resuscitate him.

We swiftly returned to the hospital. When the doctor came in to talk to us, sitting down to see us at our level, I knew where the conversation was headed.

My dad had often said during our conversations that if he were to die today, he would be satisfied. No regrets. He had lived a good life. But a good life does not include time on a ventilator, on multiple medications to raise your blood pressure, his body struggling to maintain homeostasis. His medical team offered little hope for a meaningful recovery. We made the choice, per his advance directive, to let him go.

Knowing that sometimes people need permission to leave, my mom and I both told him that he didn’t have to fight anymore. It was ok to go home.

It became a numbers game as we waited. I knew what the consistently lower blood pressure readings and decline in his heart rate meant. They stopped checking his blood pressure. The crash cart was quietly removed. The alarms were silenced on the monitors. The door was shut. We were left to help escort my dad to his next life. I watched as his heart rhythm changed, gradually adjusting to a flat line. Heart rate zero. 8:26 AM.

___________

In writing about the passing of my father-in-law, I posed the question: is it worse to lose your person gradually or suddenly? I still don’t really have the answer. Maybe after having some time to process the loss of my own father, I can better resolve this internal debate. One thing is certain, though. There are no winners in this discussion. Both ways are unequivocally terrible.

Now the planning of honoring another important life gone has begun. My dad, just like my father-in-law, had no desire to discuss his wishes with his spouse. My mom needed to make choices for him, just as my mother-in-law had to do for my father-in-law. And these decisions had to be made quickly. But asking critical questions helped my mom make some of these tough choices on the fly, and their pastor helped as well.

We’re looking through old pictures, reminiscing on early memories, looking at framed awards through his career and framed degrees, and planning music for his memorial service. Music was such a big part of his life, especially gospel hymns.

I have many a memory of long drives to Florida to visit family, with the Tennessee Ernie Ford gospel album as our soundtrack, my dad singing along to pass the time. He was the Signin’ Man, after all, as was his social media handle.

I took inventory of his office, which also serves as the guest room in my parents’ home. He did leave a clue on his desk. I found a notepad with the names of two hymns: Great is thy Faithfulness and It Is Well With my Soul. Knowing that he had made some end-of-life statements to my mother, this made sense.

I never expected to lose my dad so soon. I simply thought I would have more time. I had resolved to try to visit more often, as much of my time had been tied up with caring for my father-in-law. And now I’m another step closer to becoming the other side of the sandwich. I wish I were still safely tucked in the middle. It still doesn’t seem real.

___________

Please discuss end-of-life wishes with your loved ones. It really helps ease decision-making when these desires are clear and understood.

My husband had some excellent advice for us in planning for mom’s protection and future based on his recent experience and his extensive expertise in the financial world. Things I never would have considered, like putting another family member on bank accounts and obtaining multiple copies of the death certificate. Unpleasantries that have to be worked through, but are so very necessary. He helped my brother and me begin to have these tough conversations with our mom.

“Great is thy faithfulness. Great is thy faithfulness. Morning by morning new mercies I see. All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided. Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.”

This hymn is my current internal soundtrack.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

__________

Lead photo is from Pexels for WordPress: Alaska, my dad’s favorite place. Second photo I took; the notepad with hymn titles that I found on his desk.

The Power of Empathy

Why healthcare providers need this superpower

I woke up one morning, looking over toward the bathroom of my apartment. I took a glance at an object that wasn’t supposed to be there: a wheelchair. My overstudied brain suddenly recalled that on that day, I was supposed to be a paraplegic.

The simple task of getting out of bed and bathed without using my legs was daunting. I kind of cheated, taking a shower the night before, bypassing the need to fully bathe in the morning before embarking on my journey to the downtown campus of my school. But I tried my best otherwise to play the part.

It was my first year in grad school. As part of my training as a physical therapist, we participated in two important activities that initial year, both designed to develop empathy, an essential trait of good caregivers.

The first? Disability day. We drew cards with various scenarios. Half the class was “disabled” at a time, that way, our classmates could help out each other. For 24 hours, we had to be that person.

You can probably guess that my scenario was life as a paraplegic. I was to navigate my world from a wheelchair in a second-floor apartment, and I could not drive my car. We also had to go to the store and purchase an item from the top shelf.

The logistics of this were challenging. I had to allow my neighbor and roommate bump me down the stairs in the wheelchair. 2 flights, mind you. I had to ride in a wheelchair van, strapped to the floor by my chair. A lady at the grocery store watched in horror as I used a wooden spoon I found to slap an item down from the top shelf. She actually wailed in disgust. Would it have killed her to ask me if I needed help? Apparently so. I also ordered a coffee from the coffee bar. The barista treated me as if I were not only physically disabled, but mentally as well. All humbling experiences.

This day did the trick. I thought I was empathetic to people who rely on wheelchairs for mobility. But spending a day in a chair taught me much more than I ever imagined. I was eager to surrender the chair at the end of the day.

The second task? We read a book called Bed Number 10. It’s about a woman who developed Guillian-Barre syndrome, and she temporarily lost all mobility, including her ability to mobilize her diaphragm to breathe. Her story was extraordinary.

The author so carefully documented her discomforts, her fears, and her frustrations during her care. Her story impacted my everyday practice, and it still does to this day. Every time help a patient back to bed, I recall the pain she described caused by a wrinkle in her sheets. I have developed little tricks over the years for reducing wrinkles in bedsheets for my less mobile patients. And it all goes back to this book.

I have no doubt that these tasks were added to our curriculum to help us understand what our patients go through on a daily basis, not only as someone with a disability navigating an abled world, but also how our patients feel when they are at their most vulnerable.

With how I’ve been treated as a patient at times, I wish that medical schools had some of this same training. Like playing out scenarios where they had a list of ailments, went to a doctor, and had the experience of the doctor telling them it’s because they are stressed. Or that their pain isn’t that bad or entirely in your head. Or write you off as an over-anxious mom or a drug seeker.

How many of you have had this experience? It’s frustrating and humiliating, and it delays appropriate treatment.

It’s happened to me often enough, even as an educated healthcare provider myself, that I do things to prove that my story is real, like wearing multiple layers of marathon gear to a doctor’s appointment. In my mind, if I wear a badge of proof that I intentionally put myself through pain for fun, perhaps they will believe that my symptoms are real.

This mistreatment happens more frequently than you may think, and there are multiple layers that factor into this problem, including implicit bias. I have so many stories of patients who were written off and not taken seriously:

A Black man who had back pain was documented as drug-seeking in his chart. After several trips to the ER, he finally presented with the red flag symptoms of inability to ambulate and the loss of control of his bowel and bladder. He actually had a tumor in his spine that progressed to the point of causing paralysis by the time they did any diagnostic testing. I literally wept while writing his evaluation. It was a horrible injustice.
A Black woman who fell off a ladder at work, but her employer “lost” the tapes. They denied that the accident even happened, and only allowed her to see doctors approved by their workman’s comp policy. She was also written off as drug-seeking, but actually had a serious spinal injury. Her physical recovery was prolonged significantly because of the time between the injury and proper intervention, but she also experienced emotional turmoil in this process. In addition to our medical team properly addressing her diagnoses, I also unlocked that trauma response and was able to refer her to our mental health practitioners for additional care.
My own father. A white man who doesn’t necessarily fit into the “alpha male” persona. He was in a car accident and presented to the ER with left shoulder pain. They x-rayed his shoulder, and it was fine, so they sent him home. He had been told that the pain was in his head and that he needed to take a vacation. That advice nearly killed him. Left shoulder pain is also a referred pain pattern from the spleen. It had ruptured, and he became septic a couple of weeks later.

The above scenarios demonstrate not only a lack of empathy from multiple parties involved in the care of these patients, but also a gross lack of curiosity on the part of practitioners to get to the root of the problems. Certainly, bias played a role here as well. But in order to be curious, you must first have empathy and take the time to actively listen to your patients.

____________

Surely those of us who have chosen to enter the field of medicine do so because we desire to help others. But when we get into practice, sometimes this desire gets diluted by the expectations from corporations and insurance companies.

We are so quick to judge in this society, especially in our healthcare world. Bias and stereotypes unfortunately still affect patient care. And our system is designed to reward procedures, band-aid fixes, and high productivity. These issues are systemic and repeatedly reinforced, including biases toward certain patient populations.

As unfair and distressing as this is, we can change this. Even just a little empathy from a provider can change the experience of our patients seeking healthcare. It is possible for future and current healthcare providers to foster these skills, both during their medical training and through continuing education. Empathy can help us look at patients more holistically. And it can definitely help us be better clinicians. That’s the power of empathy.

___________

I’m publishing this as I sit in the ER with a family member. I’m here to advocate. That’s what I do.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

The Biggest Losers

And why do they keep trying to change the rules?

I felt a bit of relief after the midterm elections. The red tsunami the Republicans promised was more of a gentle lap of a manmade pond.

What saved us from the big wave? The massive turnout of young voters. It’s estimated that nearly 30% of the 18-29 demographic showed up at the polls to let their voice be heard. That’s the second most significant percentage in history behind the 2020 Presidential election.

Naturally, Republicans weren’t too keen on this and are already tossing out thoughts of new legislation to increase the voting age to 21. Really? This party has recently decided that 10-year-olds are old enough to be forced into motherhood by a rapist. They certainly feel that 18-year-olds are mature enough to own AR-15’s. But voting? Hey, now. 18-year-olds are only old enough to incubate fetuses and shoot guns. But deciding the direction of our country? That takes real maturity.

This brings to mind the words of Lord Farquaad from Shrek, a movie that this younger demographic knows well:

“Some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I am willing to make.”
Lord Farquaad

A lack of empathy for real constituents is apparent in this party. The only voices they hear are those of evangelicals and corporations. They seem to only want to listen to voices that will bring them power and money. The rest they simply want to silence.

I guess it’s not enough to gerrymander voting districts. It’s not enough to make voting more difficult than it’s ever been in many states. It’s not enough to claim election fraud every time they lose. Let’s eliminate the young voters, too. You know, the ones who will have to live with the consequences of our current government for decades to come.

If our voices didn’t matter so much, they wouldn’t make it so difficult for them to be heard.

___________

My daughter and I make it a tradition to vote early in November elections when she is home from fall break from college. We look forward to voting together. The first time she was able to vote, the poll workers clapped for her. It was very special!

I have always voted. I looked forward to gaining my right to vote since I took civics in 8th grade! I think it’s so important to carry out our civic duty, even if I’m not super crazy about the candidates. I have to choose the one that most closely aligns with my beliefs.

Thankfully, It turns out that beliefs and issues matter to young people. Things like bodily autonomy, common sense gun control, legalizing cannabis, LGBTQ rights, and climate change are important, and they wanted us to know that.

This generation has come of age at a time when abortion was legal, access to contraceptive care was a given, active shooter drills were frequent, and same-sex marriage was legalized. They see that our nation has the highest incarceration rates of any other developed country, with many serving time for petty drug crimes. They are also watching their earth succumb to the damage that previous generations have caused, and wonder what will be left for their kids.

How do I know? Because I’m the mother of young adults in this demographic.

Instead of punishing young people for giving a shit, maybe the Republican party should realize that the track they are following to the extreme right is simply not palatable to these newly minted adults. But that would take introspection, common sense, and empathy. That would require breaking their addiction to power. That would require looking at the world through the lens of the future leaders of this country, the very demographic they wish to suppress.

But changing the rules to fit their agenda? That’s what losers do.

___________

If the Republican party is successful in raising the voting age to 21, this will be a huge blow to voting rights. If this idea picks up steam, we must act. Our children are counting on us to stick up for them.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

Lead photo: free image from Pexels for WordPress. Second: with my daughter after voting in the 2020 Presidential election.

Is the Endurance Running Community Elitist?

It depends on who you ask.

I recently wrote an article about inclusion in the Richmond running community that was published in Miles and Minutes, the quarterly magazine for my local run club, which I also help edit.

In my research for this article, I touched on many aspects of inclusion: ableism, fat shaming, ageism, slow runners, runners recovering from addiction, and runners of color. Each of these groups faces a bit of discrimination in this sport, whether it’s overt or more of something in the air at a group run or race. My friends and fellow leaders in this community all had stories about times when they felt the sport was elitist.

I’ve felt some of this discrimination myself. I’m a back-of-the-pack runner. I have my reasons. I’m not a natural runner. I have to work at this. I’m older. I also have asthma. On paper, I should never have been able to run 10 marathons, 15 half marathons, or a 50k. But I have.

And now I also find myself in multiple leadership roles in my local running community. I serve on the board and as an officer in my local run club, which boasts over 2,000 members. I am an assistant coach with Sports Backers and have coached with both the 10k training teams and for the last 4 years, one of the marathon training teams. I was also asked to speak at the Richmond VegFest this year to talk about how my vegan diet has helped my running.

A question we frequently ask as leaders in this community is how we can help inspire more runners to join our amazing sport. Well, it begins with breaking down the idea that only elite runners get to participate.

I love writing about this, as my article entitled “What Does It Mean to be an Athlete?” discusses. This also appeared in MIles and Minutes. In it, I quoted Webster’s definition of an athlete. Oxford’s is slightly different. It seems some readers disagreed with my opinion of what this definition implies, especially about the notion of “proficiency.”

Athlete: a person who is proficient in sports and other forms of physical exercise.
Oxford Languages

Proficiency, however, is relative. And it’s also developed with respect to one’s own limitations and successes. I can become a faster, stronger, more efficient runner, but may never be able to compete on the elite level. Does this mean I don’t take my sport seriously or do not deserve to call myself an athlete just because I will never stand on a podium at big race? Absolutely not.

But even elite runners face judgment and body shaming. Some of you may recall a recent post on social media by Richmond elite runner Keira D’Amato. A man dared to tell Keira, a woman who recently set the American record for the marathon, that she was too “big” to be a runner. Talk about elitist! Having met Keira in person, this isn’t true at all, plus she is super nice. I doubt her critic had any idea who he was talking to.

In all aspects of society, we seem to create constructs of what an athlete, a runner, or a successful person should look like. I’m not here to reinforce these fabrications of society. I’m here to tell you that there is space for all kinds of runners in the endurance running world. If you want to run a marathon, and you put in the work (and trust me. It takes A LOT of work), then you deserve to call yourself an athlete. It’s a mantra shift.

When I first started running, I had finished a weight loss journey. I wanted a new challenge, as moving a number on a scale was no longer inspiring or necessary. But finishing a 5k? Now that was inspiring.

But when I first took to the pavement, running without music, the sound of my feet hitting the road seemed to mock me. The pattern perseverated on the phrase “nanny-nanny boo-boo” in my mind. It was less than inspiring. I felt major imposter syndrome and was way too hard on myself. My negative self-talk almost made me quit.

But slowly, as I began to take on longer distances, becoming more proficient and successfully finishing my first 5k, then 10k, then half marathon, and eventually training for my first full marathon, my mantra finally shifted.

As silly as it sounds, my new mantra was delivered to me in the form of a mariachi band singing “You can do it!” I was running the 15th mile of a 16-mile training run. I can’t explain the madness of a hot, humid long run, but if you know, you know. I experienced the best runner’s high that day. (Yes, these are real!)

And then somewhere in this journey, I joined my husband in his fitness addiction: CrossFit. And I loved one aspect of their culture: the notion that everyone in the box is considered an athlete.

When I was asked to be a coach for the marathon, I stressed this idea to our runners. Why? Because it’s a new mantra. I am an athlete. Just saying the words out loud brings a special rush of oxytocin, right? Try it.

Changing your mantra and changing the purpose of your training also changes your perception of your body. You treat your body better, with kindness and respect. You fuel it with more nutritious food. You take your scheduled runs more seriously. And you take pride in your effort.

This mind shift is so very important when coaching new marathoners. And marathoners are exceptional, make no mistake about this. Only 1% of the world’s population has run one. And even fewer have run multiple marathons or ultramarathons.

One of my good friends and colleagues, Maria Elena Calle, ran the marathon in the Rio Olympics. She is an elite runner, but she is by no means elitist. She is perhaps the most humble person I have ever met, and she makes me feel like a successful runner every time she asks me about my latest race. She’s a big part of why our Richmond running community is so amazing.

My goal as a coach to novice and intermediate runners and as a physical therapist is to encourage everyone to live a more active and healthy lifestyle. This also happens to be in the mission statements of both the Richmond Road Runners Club and Sports Backers. Doing this takes a mantra shift. And much like my hypercritical inner voice changed from heckling me to the sound of a mariachi band cheering me on, leaders in the fitness world can encourage rather than break people down.

Those of you who want to continue to propel the elitist version of the endurance running community can have it. That’s your world. It’s also lonely.

Do you know what’s not lonely? Building an inclusive community for all runners, helping guide new runners in pursuit of lofty goals, and then watching them succeed.

My favorite day of the year is Richmond Marathon Day. I get to be on the course as a coach, providing support and watching my athletes succeed.

I’m very happy in my inclusive Richmond running community. In fact, we were just awarded the designation of a Runner Friendly Community by the Road Runners Club of America. And there’s a reason why the Richmond Marathon is America’s Friendliest.

So, fellow runners, if you’re ready to ditch the elitist notion, too, then repeat after me, and shout it from the rooftops:

“I AM AN ATHLETE!!!”

___________

To the new runners: your people are out there. Go to a big group run. You will find someone who runs your pace! And, pretty soon, running will become a part of who you are. You will begin to feel like an athlete. Embrace it!

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

Photos above: lead: stock photo from WordPress. Second: with fellow coaches at the finish line of the Richmond Marathon in 2021 (courtesy of Lisa Z.) Third: with Keira D’Amato at the Richmond Road Runners Club banquet in 2022. Fourth: with Maria Elena Calle at the RRRC Cul-de-Sac 5k in 2022.

The Spice and Tea Exchange: Williamsburg

A Review

My older daughter and I took a trip to Williamsburg to do some holiday shopping. Since we were in town, we had to make our mandatory visit to the Cheese Shop in Merchant’s Square. (Don’t worry. I didn’t suddenly decide to take up dairy again. They sell more than cheese!) As we enjoyed snacks and beverages outside the restaurant, we noticed this new spice shop!

A favorite memory of mine is from trips with my husband to St. John in the USVI. There was a spice shop in town in Cruz Bay, and the smell was amazing. To this day, if I run past the Sauer’s spice factory on Broad Street in Richmond, the aroma transports me right back to my honeymoon. It’s safe to say that I really love spice shops now, and cooking is my love language, so this store was a very happy discovery!

The Spice and Tea Exchange occupies a small section of what was once The Trellis, a restaurant that was the ultimate special occasion place when I was growing up. The shop is cute with a very pretty inlaid cobblestone floor.

In addition to this Williamsburg location, there is also one in Carytown in Richmond and several across the country. You can also order online, although the online experience can’t quite measure up to seeing and smelling everything in person, obviously!

The staff we encountered in Williamsburg were all super friendly, eager to share how the store is organized, how to experience the smells, and recipe cards to help utilize their spices! They even made sure I had a basket when I began to accumulate selections.

Speaking of selections, there were so many choices! There’s an entire wall with multiple spice blends, a salt section, a pepper section, a sugar section, and an entire wall of teas and tea blends. They can also make hot or iced tea to go!

We did edit our selections, putting a few items back. I ended up buying:

Two kinds of loose tea for my younger daughter. She’s a big fan of tea, and in my search for special blends for her, these were the best quality. I hope she loves them! I picked a fruity one and a black tea based blend. These will be Christmas gifts.
Raspberry sugar. My younger daughter was recently searching for a way to add raspberry flavor to her tea. I think this will do the trick!
Hickory smoked salt. In vegan cooking, one of the flavors that is difficult to capture is smoke. I use a lot of smoked paprika! There is liquid smoke, but I almost always overdo it, ruining a dish. I can’t wait to add this to air-fried tofu, soups, and veggies to add an extra layer of flavor.
Pepper blend. My husband loves spicy food, so this shaker of multiple pepper varieties should help kick up the heat and flavor in his favorite dishes! This will go in his stocking.
Good as Gold turmeric blend. Slightly sweet, this is supposed to be great for making milk tea, which is something my older daughter has always wanted to try.
Tuscan spice blend. An Italian blend, the smell is amazing! The first thing we did when we got home was to try this in a bit of olive oil to dip bread into. Delicious!

Most of what I bought were in the smallest sizes and priced at $5.89. The shaker sizes were almost $14, and the tea blends were also almost $14. I think these prices are reasonable based on the quality of the products.

I will definitely be back. I want to try other spice blends that I edited from my original purchase and some of the salts they make specifically for cocktails! And this is a great place to buy a hostess gift or put together a gift basket for a foodie in your life. If you love to cook as I do, you should definitely visit this place!

___________

I subscribe to the notion that variety is the spice of life. And spices are a vegan chef’s best friend! The Spice and Tea Exchange delivers on spice, variety, and knowledgeable staff. Have you ever visited one of their stores? I’d love to hear about your experience.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.

There’s a Butter Dish for That!

The magic of cleaning up leftovers

“I’ve got a butter dish for that!” your auntie exclaims as you assemble in the kitchen with the rest of the family who are courageous enough to help clean up this year’s colossal holiday family feast.

At this point in my life, there’s still an older grown-up at a family gathering, thankfully! If you are lucky enough to also have older grown-ups in your life, especially ones who lived through the 40’s and 50’s, you may be well aware of this gift most grandma types possess: the magic ability to eye the remnants of a meal and match them with a random, recycled container.

The grandmas I know all have that mystery cabinet in the kitchen, usually in the darkest corner, that contains old Country Crock bins, potato salad containers, pickle jars, and the like. No plastic or glass container once holding a random condiment or salad is unimportant enough to end up in the trash. They are carefully washed and join an expansive family, all living in that mystery corner cabinet.

You know this cabinet, right? The one where you take your life into your own hands by opening that door, lest you unleash an avalanche of plastic, echoing as the containers bounce off the floors. Yes, that’s the one. And then you must select the appropriate size for the several bites of mashed potatoes left. Choose wisely.

Apparently, this gift of spacial relations, pairing leftovers to those repurposed vessels, is something to be admired.

I clearly remember as a child observing a big meal cleanup at my Aunt Octavia’s house. They had a sort of Golden Girls arrangement, where 4 sisters/cousins and their spouses shared a house after they retired. My dad commented on Aunt Louise’s amazing sense of finding the perfect container to hold the leftovers. Somehow, that stayed with me.

I was not blessed with this gift. Some days, I can barely figure out how to put a pair of shoes in a shoe box correctly. That’s how awesome my spacial relation skills are.

So this year, after our Thanksgiving meal, I wondered how well I’d developed this skill, if at all. We aren’t staying in our house, but on vacation, complicating the cleanup. We did seem to find some random containers to hold our leftovers. I surprised myself by estimating fairly well. I’m not sure if I’m up to Aunt Louise’s standards, but not bad.

You may also be familiar with the next game, the one that comes after herding all of those leftovers into bins: Refrigerator Tetris. You know, rearranging the contents of the fridge to accommodate all those random containers. I’m much better at this process.

This usually begins with me sitting in front of the open icebox, placing whatever can be moved into drawers, and clearing up precious shelf space. Then there’s arranging beverages into rows and matching containers to empty spaces. Sometimes there’s stacking, too.

Finally, though, the job is done. You look at your organizational skills, slightly satisfied with achieving something so trivial. Maybe I made my Aunt Louise proud.

Perhaps I’m evolving into one of those Grandma types after all. Except my plastic goes into the recycle bin. (Excluding Thai food takeout containers. Those are as precious as fine china!)

We’ll see how well I’ve mastered these games at the next holiday meal.

___________

I hope you are enjoying a pleasant holiday season with your friends and family. This year, I’m trying to focus on spending time with others, not on gifts or fanfare.

As always, I hope you all are safe and healthy.