My brother in law is a brilliant scientist, who is not only technically proficient but inherently creative; he has the rare mix of technician and artist, his chosen medium the field of Chemistry.  He likes to tell people that he makes drugs for a living, it's a bad nerdy joke (which he thinks is a great ice breaker) but it's the truth. 

He’s not Walter White, cooking meth in an RV, he's actually making pharmaceutical in a laboratory.  What I find interesting as of late is that many of his ideas relate to fixing physical abnormalities by using processes to bring the GI tract into balance, or using the enzymes and hormones found in the gut to solve common health concerns.

It's interesting to me because he has tried to explain many of his ideas to me in the past and I normally go to my happy place, I start to nod and smile then change the subject to something I understand like self abuse, episodes of Family Guy, or what I heard on the Howard Stern Show that morning.

I’ve recently reflected on our many conversations because I’ve suffered several days over the last few weeks in a great deal of abdominal and digestive pain brought on as a result of trying to reintroduce certain yummy foods like bread. 

The Paleo Challenge ended almost a month ago and I've stayed strict with slight changes, I've started eating more starch because of the number of days I workout and reduced my protein intake at each meal to bring my caloric numbers into balance. 

Overall I'm eating less food but staying full, while maintaining a strict diet without much effort.

There are lots of foods I miss, yet I don’t find myself craving them, or finding them irresistible.  At times I wish I could taste certain flavors or texture I’ve become accustom to over 30+ years of life, and it’s just going to take more time to un-program my brain to think these things are good for me.

Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day I took my girlfriend to Art and Soul in DC.  They had a prefixed menu which included dessert.  I found that the entrees and appetizers were relatively Paleo friendly; and if there was something I shouldn’t eat, it was something I could push off to one side of my plate.  I initially thought I wouldn’t order dessert, because I’m not too big on desserts, but a desire for something sweet got the best of me, and I thought “Why not what could it hurt?”

Before our apps came out they brought out a small bread basket, with warm bread, it smelled fucking amazing, I didn't eat an entire roll but I did scalp one.  The roll was a Western Expanding White Man and I was fucking Geronimo.  I took a slice right off the top of a nice soft roll, and ate it.  Without any butter it melted in mouth, the texture in my mouth was all too satisfying; in the interest of staying on course for my diet I only ate one bite from a single roll.

My entrée was some Cajun dish with sausage, and pulled pork.  It was good; Nancy my girlfriend ordered a steak which had been Sous-Vide over 6 hours.  Her entrée was also good; the meal up to this point was good but not great. 

When dessert came out Nancy ordered a Chocolate Lava Cake, and I ordered a Tart.  I really wanted to taste a bit of crunchy texture, and I figured worst case scenario I would eat the Ice Cream off the top of the Tart.  The Pastry Chef at Art & Soul is phenomenal and her creations were incredible. 

It wasn’t because I being a crack addict had been reintroduced to crack again, it was truly remarkable, and how good it was…she is a master at what she does. 

I didn’t eat much of the tart perhaps a quarter, and I had 1 spoonful of Nancy’s Cake, gooey chocolaty goodness.

The next four days of my life were a fucking hell.  Wednesday morning I went to Patriot for the 6:30 AM WoD and it felt like I was coming off of a 5 day bender with Nicholas Cage while he was preparing for Leaving Las Vegas. 

I was strict Paleo during these five days, and it wasn’t until day 6 that I started to feel normal again.

This was lesson 1.

Baking Muffins for Mom

My parents used to own a bakery, and I basically worked in this place from the time I was 11-12 until I went to college, and would help during breaks.  The product which came out of this place was fantastic, in fact business travelers who would stay at the Ritz Carlton above our shop, would often come down and buy a box of cookies before flying home, because their wives would tell them “Don’t even think about coming home with about a box of Larry’s Cookies.” 

Larry is a family friend of ours, and he still produces a great deal of baked goods which are great, but his company never had that tipping point where it took off, I think because he never had a person to market his great product. 

This guy makes muffins which are the best baked good you ever had, yet he never capitalized on the Cup Cake craze, he missed the growth curve all together.    

I recently met with him, and he gave me a bucket of Blueberry Muffin mix which is my mother’s favorite.  If a day should ever come that my mom loses touch with reality, I think the smell of these muffins will trigger enough synapses in her brain to ground her temporarily.  The mix has real blueberries, and just the right amount of sweet, with scrumptiousness a side effect.  

I decided I would make some muffins for my mom about a week ago, because she was having a few days of being unhappy, and I thought it would cheer her up.  As the muffins baked in my oven I realized that my home oven just doesn’t cook the same as the industrial convection ovens we used to have, so it was a chore to try and get the right temperatures so the Muffin would cook properly.  When cooked correctly these muffins balloon into a huge bulb, and bake almost crispy on the outside, with the inside being light and fluffy. 

That shit is good…

When I finally got it right, and took them out of the oven, the smell was intoxicating.  It triggered memories from my childhood, while spiking my insulin.  In a moment of just sheer desire I broke off a small piece from one of the edges of a muffin, it wasn’t much larger than a quarter. 

It was grand…the repercussions where not…

The three days following I had a constant feeling of diarrhea, followed by constipation on the toilet.  It was painful, awkward, and it was an awakening.  I can’t believe how I just can’t consume bread anymore.  I’m at a point now where I want to get tested for Celiac Disease. 

I learn shit the hard way; this is me when it comes to learning life lessons, especially when it relates to my health.  The thing is I'm not only Bart Simpson, I'm Lisa and Maggie as well…

This was lesson 2.

Drinks

Last Friday I had drinks with Jason N.  He’s another CrossFit guy I’ve met at Patriot, and happens to be Korean, which means he’s not only awesome, but a fucking champion.  The guy is smart, he went to West Point, then grad school, and is now studying to be a Doctor at Georgetown. 

This is funny to me, because if you take away my family, girlfriend, and the OG Koreans I know from CrossFit, there is a high chance that you the white man knows more Koreans than I do…I am what most Koreans call a Twinkie.  Yellow on the outside, but creamy white on the inside.

We met up around 9 pm, at Rock Bottom in Ballston, and I ordered two doubles of Vodka and Club Soda.  I finished the first one, then started to sip the second and decided I shouldn’t drink it.  Jason and I spent a few hours talking, and shooting the shit.  When we left around 11:30-ish Jason dropped me off at my place; and I started to pound water as soon as I got into my kitchen, it was an attempt to make sure I didn’t wake up dehydrated. 

When I woke up the next morning, I was in hangover central. 

I am a self-professed…lush. 

Most likely I’m a closet alcoholic, because I have either an on switch, or an off switch.  I am that guy who instigates drunkenness by buying shots while calling people out on their manhood, or womanhood, then usually recedes into my own place as I watch everyone vomit around me.  I go toe to toe with people during these drunken death matches, but my excess body weight normally keeps me from getting the spins or booting on someone’s shoes.

I am that quintessential guy who gets everyone sick or in trouble, and somehow maintains a drunken state of Zen.

Put it to you this way my second weekend in college two future fraternity brothers and myself finished two handles of gin in about a 30 hour period.  It was insane, and that weekend resulted in the college permanently closing the rooftop deck of our dorm.

So, I was a bit surprised to find that after two shots of Vodka I was hung-over.  The way I felt was as if I had just spent the night in a freshman dormitory at some large university in the middle of nowhere, you know like VA Tech.  What else do you do in places like Blacksburg other than drink copious amounts of alcohol? 

It took me a day and half to fully recover.  I further could feel that on Sunday morning, I was bloated, which is why I’ve avoided the scale that morning, and since Friday have not been on it. 

The last time I got really drunk was on New Years Eve, and I gained 5 lbs which took 10 days for me to stabilize. 

Alcohol is bad for me, and I shouldn’t drink…are you fucking crazy? 

I will drink but perhaps only when I know it’s a special occasion, and it calls for pure drunkenness, that way the pain I feel the following week is worth the price of admission.

This was Lesson 3.

Ultimately I’ve learned that I need to avoid anything with gluten in it at all costs.  I’ve also learned that my stomach enzymes have changed in a way that prevents me from going back to the way I used to eat, especially if I want to continue on this current path.  The constant feeling of needing to poop, followed by feeling like I have to give birth, and nothing coming out, sucks, and I don’t want to relive those moments. 

I guess my brother-in-laws ideas about many of our health concerns coming from the imbalance of the GI tract have more merit than I realized, my recent experiences aren’t verification of his ideas, but they give me enough reason to caution what I eat, especially now that my gut hormones and enzymes are in place of harmony.  It’s the only explanation that I have for what caused my pains.

As further evidence of this idea, recently I went to see the endocrinologist and I was told that I could probably stop taking my Diabetes Medication.  He gave me a new prescription but told me to use it as safety net.  I still have to check my blood sugar, but I think it’s more about understanding if this change is temporary or permanent.

I’m also finding that the more I focus on eating better, and making the right choices, I am able to sustain my energy for longer periods of time.  Without sugar I don’t have intense highs, followed by equally intense lows, but I do find that I have more energy more consistently throughout a week. 

I guess the definitive lesson is to Eat Clean, and Drink Like a Fish, at least then you’ll have a great story to tell while you feel like shit.