As I walk on the beautiful American River bike trail most mornings, I see uncountable homeless families staying in tents along the river bank. My heart goes out to them, especially to the children and the elderly. Last Wednesday I counted over 150 tents. And there I was walking, holding a very nice water bottle and keeping my distance as if they were going to hurt me. How absurd is that?
Walking is supposed to ease my pain, not add to it, I thought. I could not help but had my eyes and heart opened by the plight of these folks and families down on their luck. So many are hurting in so many ways. The beautiful scenery of the river is compromised by the shivering adults and children I witnessed.
It would be inhumane to do nothing. Yet what can I do? These folks have their daily routine down to a science: big brunch at Loaves and Fishes and then shower, children go to Mustard Seed School for the homeless where they are fed again, and dinner is up for grabs. Most of them have an address with the county welfare office so they can receive food stamps (it comes like a credit card now) to buy additional food and other needed items.
I understand my limitations yet I decided to do what I can, in the capacity that would allow me to be charitable without risking my own safety. My church has a food closet that serves thousands of people every month. The South Sacramento Interfaith Partnership Food Closet opens for 3 hours a day and is run by mostly volunteers. The mission of this organization is not for the homeless but is geared towards the marginalized folks who live in homes and have addresses but do not not enough money to buy all needed food for their families at times.
I donated 200 pounds of potatoes 2 days before Thanksgiving--it was like a drop in a bucket. I felt so helpless because I wanted all of them to have plenty yet reality was different…..
I learned something in the last a couple of weeks as the weather has turned cold at night and in the early morning. I am blessed because I can eat all the food I want, I have a beautiful and warm house, and I don't lack anything. I walk to fight pain and yet I saw another type of pain. The pain of the rawness and bleakness of the homeless and all the complications that go with it.
As I continue to walk, I hope my soul would remain open and be vigilant to the people I encounter. There are more than my own pain and my own endorphins. There are the misfortune and challenging survival of many whose pain I have yet to know.
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Walking and Body Weight
I have been asked to address the more popular and light-hearted subject of walking and weight loss by many friends. So this blog is for them.
I have always be slim. During my teen years and 20's I was more muscular because I was a long distance runner. I was also a vegetarian. Now, I am a proponent of "whole foods" and I do eat meat. In addition, I believe in eating seasonally and consuming local produce as much as possible.
That being said, I do have a some insights on long distance walking and body weight. I am not a medical professional but the simple math of intake and output is undeniable. If one has more intake than output, one is going to gain weight; and then the opposite is that one will lose weight.
I have not changed my diet much to accommodate my hours of walking. I have added more lean protein such as Fage's non-fat plain Greek yogurt (so delicious), cottage cheese and more fresh fruits--sometimes up to 12 servings of fruits a day. I still eat an almost vegetarian diet with the exception of more salmon or other fish. My caloric intake has not increased by much, may be around 200 calories more a day, at the most. And I walk at least 2 hours a day and once a week I walk 5 hours and then some.
When I stepped on the pavement to start walking over 2 months ago, 3 weeks into my walking I noticed that my body started to re-shape itself: flatter stomach, less adipose under my entire body--firmer and more toned muscles emerged. It is evident that even my face lost its roundness yet my weight did not drop significantly. I weigh just about 5 pounds less but I feel more compact as most of you know that muscles weigh more than fat. So for me, walking has not been the magical weight loss program for me. However, if you have 35% of fat or more in your body, you will lose more weight more quickly. Lean folk like me just get toned and denser muscles.
As you may remember, I did not start walking to lose weight. I started to walk to curb pain. So I have not paid as much attention to weight loss as I should have. The 5 pounds I lost was alarming because it happened very quickly--second week. So I have been doing everything to maintain my current weight---116 lbs. at around 5'6".
I do want to talk about whole foods and seasonal and local diet. I eat foods that look like the way they are from the ground or from the original sources---no box foods for me. In terms of vegetables and fruits, I eat seasonally: berries are abundant in late spring and earlier summer and that's when I eat them. I know grocery stores are still selling strawberries and blue berries now--they are imported and not seasonal here in CA so I don't eat them. In terms of meat and fish I buy them from a butcher instead packaged deals. Chinese and Asian markets are known for their swimming fish and fresh cuts of meat. I get to see the meats and choose what I think is the freshest.
A couple of other important dietary habits I have employed are: absolutely NO white sugar and NO deep-fried foods; suffice to say, I can't remember the last time I went into a fast food joint. These actions might take a bit of discipline for most people but they came quite easily for me as I never did like much sweets and deep-fried anything.
So much about diet and weight loss, I can't say enough the importance of some sort of exercise for everyone. I walk because of a serious personal conviction to survive and cope with my health issues. Yet one does not need to step on the pavement because of a health issue. Walking is cheap--all you need are comfortable shoes, warm clothes, sun-block and may be music. No membership fees and all the other fancy trimmings of a health club. Walking is natural. Everyone walks. Walking is by far the most holistic of all exercises and when done regularly with proper eating habits, one can expect miracles.
Now, put on your comfy shoes, wear a visor, take your house key, and hit the pavement, everyday. Just do it!!!
I have always be slim. During my teen years and 20's I was more muscular because I was a long distance runner. I was also a vegetarian. Now, I am a proponent of "whole foods" and I do eat meat. In addition, I believe in eating seasonally and consuming local produce as much as possible.
That being said, I do have a some insights on long distance walking and body weight. I am not a medical professional but the simple math of intake and output is undeniable. If one has more intake than output, one is going to gain weight; and then the opposite is that one will lose weight.
I have not changed my diet much to accommodate my hours of walking. I have added more lean protein such as Fage's non-fat plain Greek yogurt (so delicious), cottage cheese and more fresh fruits--sometimes up to 12 servings of fruits a day. I still eat an almost vegetarian diet with the exception of more salmon or other fish. My caloric intake has not increased by much, may be around 200 calories more a day, at the most. And I walk at least 2 hours a day and once a week I walk 5 hours and then some.
When I stepped on the pavement to start walking over 2 months ago, 3 weeks into my walking I noticed that my body started to re-shape itself: flatter stomach, less adipose under my entire body--firmer and more toned muscles emerged. It is evident that even my face lost its roundness yet my weight did not drop significantly. I weigh just about 5 pounds less but I feel more compact as most of you know that muscles weigh more than fat. So for me, walking has not been the magical weight loss program for me. However, if you have 35% of fat or more in your body, you will lose more weight more quickly. Lean folk like me just get toned and denser muscles.
As you may remember, I did not start walking to lose weight. I started to walk to curb pain. So I have not paid as much attention to weight loss as I should have. The 5 pounds I lost was alarming because it happened very quickly--second week. So I have been doing everything to maintain my current weight---116 lbs. at around 5'6".
I do want to talk about whole foods and seasonal and local diet. I eat foods that look like the way they are from the ground or from the original sources---no box foods for me. In terms of vegetables and fruits, I eat seasonally: berries are abundant in late spring and earlier summer and that's when I eat them. I know grocery stores are still selling strawberries and blue berries now--they are imported and not seasonal here in CA so I don't eat them. In terms of meat and fish I buy them from a butcher instead packaged deals. Chinese and Asian markets are known for their swimming fish and fresh cuts of meat. I get to see the meats and choose what I think is the freshest.
A couple of other important dietary habits I have employed are: absolutely NO white sugar and NO deep-fried foods; suffice to say, I can't remember the last time I went into a fast food joint. These actions might take a bit of discipline for most people but they came quite easily for me as I never did like much sweets and deep-fried anything.
So much about diet and weight loss, I can't say enough the importance of some sort of exercise for everyone. I walk because of a serious personal conviction to survive and cope with my health issues. Yet one does not need to step on the pavement because of a health issue. Walking is cheap--all you need are comfortable shoes, warm clothes, sun-block and may be music. No membership fees and all the other fancy trimmings of a health club. Walking is natural. Everyone walks. Walking is by far the most holistic of all exercises and when done regularly with proper eating habits, one can expect miracles.
Now, put on your comfy shoes, wear a visor, take your house key, and hit the pavement, everyday. Just do it!!!
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Walking past 150 miles…..and Mt. Whitney
I don't know about you, but nothing makes me feel accomplished and content until I am satisfied with the results of my own efforts, however long it takes.
It was a sunny, early August day in 1976. In honor of USA's bicentennial, a group of us decided to go on top of a tall mountain and plant the Stars and Stripes--our national flag. There were 8 of us driving from San Francisco to climb Mt. Whitney in Southern California. All the sleeping bags, food supplies, toiletries and miscellaneous items were carefully checked and re-caclulated to ensure our survival during the climb and back.
I had been in this country for about a year then and was not inducted into the grandness of these United States of America and her natural landscape as well as beauty. I had just finished my 150th mile jogging the week before preparing for this hike to 10,000 feet above sea level.
About 2 hours into the climb I turned around during our recess and my jaw dropped! Why are we still at the bottom? The 7-mile hike should be a cinch, but no, very soon my chest was heaving and the feeling of being stabbed over and over by a sharp knife would not relent. More breaks, more rest stops. The elevation was getting to all of us. Nature was flaunting the power of height and the thinning of oxygen. We were aching, feeling slithered and almost totally defeated by the mountain and the lack of air!
After lunch some of us were discouraged. We were all in great physical condition and were proud of our prowess as jocks. We needed no guide on this mountain because we WERE GOOD for it. The eery afternoon was silent. I heard only the struggling breaths of myself and my climbing party. One foot forward, then another, and another. A little light came into our quiet despair around 2 p.m. We saw the peak and we were half way there. I ached so horrifically all over and the nausea had begun to interfere with ability to breathe. None of us gave in to our inadequacies, we'd rather die!
Around 8:30 p.m., we looked at one another and let out the loudest cry! Yes, yes, yes, yes! A lot of crying and laughing, even weeping came over us. We were high. We were standing on the peak of Mount Whitney--10,150 feet above sea level. Then as if we had rehearsed, we all scurried and scattered and found a quiet spot alone in this peak and started "zen-like" personal, private meditations. 9 p.m., 14 hours after we set foot on this mountain, the sun had set almost completely, our collective hunger warranted a strike on this exquisite moment of personal reflection.
I recalled crying by myself in joy: recounting and retracing the agonizing steps through the entire day. I wrote in my journal and I quote,"Is there anything more precious to me than the over-whelming content feeling of accomplishing something well with all of my efforts?"
Stepping out to walk to fight pain 7 weeks ago was not a flippant or temporal idea. It was a conscious and deliberate attempt to try to ease my physical pain. It was my last-straw effort in the fight of a savaging illness that has robbed so much of my life. I gave walking no chance to fail. And it can't fail. The journey of these past 150 miles was wrought with great risks and a massive amount of gnawing pain those first days. I am starting to reap the benefits of high levels of endorphin and my pain is under my thumb and my feet, literally. My walking now reminded me of our Mt. Whitney hike 35 years ago.
What lied ahead 35 years ago after we reached the top of an enormously tall mountain was the cold, dark night; and of course, the descent the following day. On that dark mountain and ice-cold night I was again face-to-face with the unfathomable power of nature and my own vast limitations in every turn. It's a miracle we all made it down the next day. The encounter with Mt. Whitney had a profound effect on the 8 of us. Somehow we emerged from the mountaintop different, perhaps we were worn and weathered a bit, just a bit, no more cockiness. We piled into our vehicles in total exhaustion as well as sweet contentment heading north, singing most of our way.
The feeling of content accomplishment has no fanfare and needs no audience and applause. It is absolutely silent and private. I am there.
It was a sunny, early August day in 1976. In honor of USA's bicentennial, a group of us decided to go on top of a tall mountain and plant the Stars and Stripes--our national flag. There were 8 of us driving from San Francisco to climb Mt. Whitney in Southern California. All the sleeping bags, food supplies, toiletries and miscellaneous items were carefully checked and re-caclulated to ensure our survival during the climb and back.
I had been in this country for about a year then and was not inducted into the grandness of these United States of America and her natural landscape as well as beauty. I had just finished my 150th mile jogging the week before preparing for this hike to 10,000 feet above sea level.
About 2 hours into the climb I turned around during our recess and my jaw dropped! Why are we still at the bottom? The 7-mile hike should be a cinch, but no, very soon my chest was heaving and the feeling of being stabbed over and over by a sharp knife would not relent. More breaks, more rest stops. The elevation was getting to all of us. Nature was flaunting the power of height and the thinning of oxygen. We were aching, feeling slithered and almost totally defeated by the mountain and the lack of air!
After lunch some of us were discouraged. We were all in great physical condition and were proud of our prowess as jocks. We needed no guide on this mountain because we WERE GOOD for it. The eery afternoon was silent. I heard only the struggling breaths of myself and my climbing party. One foot forward, then another, and another. A little light came into our quiet despair around 2 p.m. We saw the peak and we were half way there. I ached so horrifically all over and the nausea had begun to interfere with ability to breathe. None of us gave in to our inadequacies, we'd rather die!
Around 8:30 p.m., we looked at one another and let out the loudest cry! Yes, yes, yes, yes! A lot of crying and laughing, even weeping came over us. We were high. We were standing on the peak of Mount Whitney--10,150 feet above sea level. Then as if we had rehearsed, we all scurried and scattered and found a quiet spot alone in this peak and started "zen-like" personal, private meditations. 9 p.m., 14 hours after we set foot on this mountain, the sun had set almost completely, our collective hunger warranted a strike on this exquisite moment of personal reflection.
I recalled crying by myself in joy: recounting and retracing the agonizing steps through the entire day. I wrote in my journal and I quote,"Is there anything more precious to me than the over-whelming content feeling of accomplishing something well with all of my efforts?"
Stepping out to walk to fight pain 7 weeks ago was not a flippant or temporal idea. It was a conscious and deliberate attempt to try to ease my physical pain. It was my last-straw effort in the fight of a savaging illness that has robbed so much of my life. I gave walking no chance to fail. And it can't fail. The journey of these past 150 miles was wrought with great risks and a massive amount of gnawing pain those first days. I am starting to reap the benefits of high levels of endorphin and my pain is under my thumb and my feet, literally. My walking now reminded me of our Mt. Whitney hike 35 years ago.
What lied ahead 35 years ago after we reached the top of an enormously tall mountain was the cold, dark night; and of course, the descent the following day. On that dark mountain and ice-cold night I was again face-to-face with the unfathomable power of nature and my own vast limitations in every turn. It's a miracle we all made it down the next day. The encounter with Mt. Whitney had a profound effect on the 8 of us. Somehow we emerged from the mountaintop different, perhaps we were worn and weathered a bit, just a bit, no more cockiness. We piled into our vehicles in total exhaustion as well as sweet contentment heading north, singing most of our way.
The feeling of content accomplishment has no fanfare and needs no audience and applause. It is absolutely silent and private. I am there.
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