Lessons From a Cleanse: Last Part
Entering weeks two and three. “I needed to be reminded of the importance of variety and balance that this past week has taught me,” reads my journal entry for day 8. I focus on flavor vs. plate-filling bulk, and learn more about the satiating attributes of omega-3 oils and the metabolism-boosting, immunity-bolstering benefits of exotic spices.
I connect with the Creator through prayer, not meditation, so while I don’t “practice” yoga, I do yoga-style limbering exercises from a dusty tome I discovered in my book collection, and rid myself of stress headaches and neck tension in the process. My four mile morning walk had become less than relaxing, upper body muscles contracting against sub-zero wind-chills and lower body tensing against the frosty uncertainty underfoot. In its place, I reintroduce some weight training and intensify the indoor aerobics sessions.
Week two also allows for hot breakfasts – cardamom quinoa porridge with toasted almonds, and luscious banana, oat flour pancakes smeared with honey. One day I go crazy and sub in a bowl of brown rice with vanilla almond milk, nutmeg, and chopped gala apple. Severely sublime.
Lunch and dinner recipes include the one and only clunker in the batch, sesame kale salad, but that is more than compensated for by mouth-watering baked salmon in coconut broth; earthy, nutty black bean-brown rice patties; paprika-warmed roasted squash and brussels sprouts on quinoa with tahini sauce; a Dijon, lemon, olive oil-dressed broccoli and chick pea salad for the gods; baked sweet potato with Swiss chard and creamy avocado; and a lemon-herb sardine salad that is way, way better than it sounds.
I never even got around to baking cherry-date bars or making creamy mango pops. I was too busy experimenting with my new favorite snack – fruit smoothies. My proudest serendipitous find: a whole, small, fresh pineapple trimmed, cored, and whirred to a pulp with a splash of light coconut milk and a generous cup of frozen raspberries. No stomach rumblings going on that night as I lay me down to sleep.
On day 10 I write, “Even better energy, body-ache, mood, and flexibility-wise than days 1-9. I am loving this. My only complaint about the menu is that it is too rich; I cut back on the oil-heavy sauces, and still have lip-smackingly good results. And what a revelation: Vegetarian doesn’t suck, or suck you dry of energy.”
On day 12, “I think the euphoria is wearing off a bit. Maybe it’s being stuck inside, trapped by the frigid weather day after day; maybe I’m craving some good ol’ lean beef chili or a baked chicken breast. It’s not a terrible crash, but anticipating week three’s prescribed tofu-heavy menus doesn’t help. We’ll see how it goes.”
Well. That’s how it goes. Very well. I should have known that if you marinate almost anything edible in enough soy sauce, olive oil, salt, and pepper, then roast it until it bubbles, it’s going to turn out pretty darned tasty. Firm tofu – basically soy bean curd formed into spongy blocks – is quite, uh, sponge-like. It absorbs whatever good, flavorful stuff you expose it to. Serve it thusly infused, on a bed of shredded fresh baby spinach leaves and warm brown rice, and it is, dare I say, beefy – in both texture and flavor.
Add in lunch and dinner recipes for roasted red pepper and kale frittatas; garlic and lime-dressed avocado and black bean tacos sprinkled with toasted pumpkin seeds; baked acorn squash stuffed with shimmering sautéed onion, cannellini beans, quinoa, and kale; poached egg on a bed of brown rice, shredded red cabbage, and edamame beans; and a roasted slab of halibut with diced beets and lemon dressing, and you have another seven day’s worth of epicurean delights.
And I haven’t even mentioned week three’s bodacious recipe for banana-apple buckwheat muffins. I didn’t have buckwheat, so I used millet flour – also gluten free. The results were, like the old Mounds candy bar commercial claim, indescribably delicious. But you know me; I’ll have a go at it anyway. The dense, moist, honey-sweetened little breakfast cakes that tumbled out of my oiled muffin tins were rich with cinnamon, mellow with diced sweet apple chunks, and satisfyingly crunchy with coarse-chopped walnuts. I wanted to eat all four in one sitting, but reined myself in to the recommended two per serving. With a cup of hot tea, these would make a tantalizing treat for any day of the year. Morning, noon, or night.
By week’s end, I’m feeling fabulous again, if a tad hungry on the small portions. The added exercise inspires me to note, “Perhaps this will be the week I prove to myself that I need them pork chops!”
But as I count down the last three days of “clean” eating, I don’t feel deprived at all. I chow down on those delectable muffins, revisit my favorite aoili-dressed broccoli and garbanzo salad lunch, and find that I am not even remotely straining at the bit to get back to “normal” eating.
So what is my bottom-line take-away from this little experiment? For a type-A perfectionist, there’s the reinforced message that slowing down, focusing with heightened intention on what you put into your mouth and what you expect of your body, and seeking out ways to feel lighter and less sluggish after a meal are legitimate steps on the ladder to overall wellness. Even if you think, as I did, that you have it all figured out, opening the mind to new input can nudge you up and over your seasonal lethargy like nothing else I’ve stumbled upon.
Seven weeks post-cleanse, I am still feeling good; still benefitting from a varied exercise routine, the occasional vegetarian meal, and the creamy, high-calcium, low-calorie goodness of unsweetened almond milk on my morning oatmeal. Although the regimen I’ve described hardly requires sacrifice – a word with such poignant meaning for large portions of the world’s population – it does demonstrate that even voluntarily giving up indulgences can buttress a sagging disposition.
As we Minnesotans tiptoe cautiously toward the Ides of April, today’s weather forecast reads like an Almanac page from February: Storm warnings blanket half the state, with predictions for up to eight inches of new snow and a feels-like temperature of 20-something. Now there’s a Real World trial for a reinforced spirit. You may just see me careening back to the shelter of the three week challenge, desperately seeking serenity. The perpetual grayness of an interminable winter does have a way of punching a big fat hole in even the most determinedly readjusted attitude.
Note: To find the recipes I’ve gushed about above, pop on over to http://www.wholeliving.com/action-plan.