People, at least in my experience, seem to eat what they are accustomed to eating, with little thought given to the matter – unless finances, circumstances or health needs dictate otherwise. It is easy to assume, simply because we have always done something, that we suffer no ill effects from our choices or patterns. How do we know that a plant-based diet would not suit us better unless we try? I know I do this myself. I still think I dislike certain foods based on a childhood experience or opinion, but I am reluctant to try the food again as an adult.

I have encountered several people recently, people I have come to respect, who routinely conduct lifestyle experiments in the interest of improving themselves. Food was one lifestyle issue several of these people subjected to experimentation. Several of these people, independently and at different times, decided to try a plant-based diet for a period of one month as an experiment. The understanding at the outset was, if they felt no positive difference at the end of the month, they could return to their customary animal-based diet. Interestingly, each of these people discovered they felt better, had more energy, and enjoyed better mental clarity after one month of a plant-based diet.

After reading of several similar stories, I decided, in the interest of knowing my own body, to try a similar experiment. I would try a plant-based diet for one month to see how I felt. Certainly I could handle one month of deprivation to satisfy this question! I eliminated all meat, eggs, and poultry for this project, but still allowed myself limited dairy products (pretty much cheese and yogurt). An experiment with eliminating dairy may happen at a later date, but I thought it better not to stress myself out on this initial project. (Leo Babauta frequently discusses the importance of learning new habits one habit at a time, and in manageable increments).

My first week eating a plant-based diet was in early February. The experiment was so uneventful that my wife was not even aware of what I was doing. Yes, it’s that exciting of a lifestyle adjustment… Actually, I do all of the cooking in our home, so I simply quit preparing meat or animal products. Terri enjoyed the variety of new food which I was preparing, but she neither noticed nor cared that it was sans meat or eggs.

I contemplated this experiment for a long time while anticipating a difficult adjustment, but it was not difficult at all. Truthfully, it was something of a non-event.

One week into my plant-based diet experiment I was faced with Valentine’s Day. Not wanting to miss an opportunity to do something special for my sweetheart this year (given the circumstances, we have no assumption of a next year), I took Terri to her favorite Chinese restaurant after her chemotherapy treatment. This place is locally owned and puts on a good buffet, and Terri always eats well at this restaurant – something that is always an issue for her with chemotherapy. I knew it might be challenging eating at that buffet on my diet, but I made the sacrifice in the name of love… I ended up eating meat for the first time in one week, and told myself it would be the only exception on my month-long project.

I felt awful. The next 24 hours were spent feeling bloated. I was surprised that, after only one week, I could tell a real difference between what I was eating. Based on the stories I had been reading of people who tried similar experiments, I expected this adjustment to occur – but after one month as opposed to one week.

One interesting adjustment that I found necessary concerned meal frequency. I used to eat one or two large meals per day. I would rarely eat three meals. My plant-based diet, coupled with the smaller portion sizes to which I have slowly become accustomed while on a year-long diet, necessitates eating five or six small portions each day. Typically three of these will be “meals” while the remainder will be a “snack” of sort. I just can’t go five hours between vegetarian meals. Of course, I’m not really a vegetarian cook either, so I may yet learn some better meal options.

The results

Once my month-long, vegetarian experiment was completed I was faced with the decision of whether to resume eating meat. I had survived a full month of vegetarianism without ill effects or any real desire to eat meat (it is amazing how filling – and cheap – rice and beans can be).

My overall experience with my project was positive. I felt better, had more energy, and enjoyed better mental clarity. For those who wonder about this phenomenon, just consider how you feel after Thanksgiving dinner, or over-eating at a buffet. The same principle applies – just on a slightly lesser scale. It’s impossible to truly appreciate without experiencing it though.

Ultimately, between my positive experiences eating vegetarian and the ridiculous cost of meat, I really have no desire to eat meat. That being said, I started (and ended) my experiment with a freezer half-full of donated venison and beef. This created a conundrum. I considered donating the meat to others who could use it, but my food budget is already stretched in a good month, and food is food when money is tight. In the end, I decided to eat what I had with gladness, but to not replace it as it is depleted. My food consumption patterns have changed though as a result of this experiment in that, even with a freezer half-full of meat, I only cook meat every few days.

The greatest difficulty I find in eating vegetarian is not economic though (produce is massively cheaper than meat in most cases), it is logistical. I currently (temporarily) live in Montana. Eastern and central Montana, for those who don’t know, is high plains desert – or high plains rapidly experiencing desertification. In other words, growing anything other than prairie grass, sage brush, and prickly pear cactus is a real challenge. It is possible to purchase limited produce from farmer’s markets during a few late-summer months – and I do take advantage of this opportunity. The problem is the other nine or 10 months of the year when produce is either not available or is imported from 2,000 miles away (and in lousy condition when it arrives).

Foodies who live in Montana (yes, there really are a few) must shop at exclusive shops with prices that no pauper could pay. (Those of us who have a spouse dealing with persistent cancer are paupers regardless of income, as a substantial percentage of income goes to the hospital and pharmacy.) Ironically, foodies in Montana also have a carbon footprint equal to an entire village in the developing world as they import all of their food from thousands of miles away because decent local food is not available. This irony seems to be lost as they line up to buy $20 per pound organic grapes. Alas, I digress.

Food conclusions

My food experiment was surprisingly successful. I would have gone through life eating meat two or three times each day – and assuming it was necessary – had I not undertaken this experiment. As I deplete the meat in my freezer, I will not replace it with more meat. I will instead learn to cook more plant-based meals. I still plan to eat fish, and I do not have any immediate plans to abandon dairy completely (though I use soy milk almost exclusively anyway). My mother also raised me well enough that I will eat what is put in front of me when I am a guest at someone’s home. My meal preparation at home though will increasingly be plant-based. Plant-based eating is both healthy and sustainable.

No related posts.

I had been thinking about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) for a few years, but for some reason never gave much consideration to the AT. This probably had something to do with being a native of Massachusetts, and living in New England or Upstate New York for most of my life. The AT was close to home, while the PCT was far away and more exotic – at least in my mind. Living next to the AT though prompted me to purchase a Kindle e-book about the Appalachian Trail in early 2011. Several similar titles followed. I was hooked.

Interestingly, while I read several trail memoirs (quite delightful reading, by the way), I did not encounter an AT book about the psychological demands of hiking 2,181 miles up the East coast just for fun. Recently though I was invited to review just such a book.

Appalachian Trials book by Zach Davis

Zach Davis thru-hiked the AT in 2011. Prior to hiking the AT, Zach admits he had only slept in a tent twice, and had never been backpacking. Nonetheless, he successfully thru-hiked the entire AT on his first attempt, despite contracting a serious virus during his hike.

Following his hike, Zach looked for an AT book about the psychological aspects of thru-hiking the AT. Unable to find such a book, Zach wrote the book himself. That book is Appalachian Trials.

Zach credits former AT thru-hiker Ian Mangiardi (The Dusty Camel) with helping him prepare for the trail by being his “therapist/coach,” and now hopes to help other hikers mentally prepare for the trail. He notes that some 2,000 hikers attempt the AT each year; however, seven out of 10 end up off the trail short of their goal.

Zach make these observations in his Introduction:

“You might assume the most difficult aspect of walking the length of the eastern United States would be purely physical…

“In no uncertain terms, the psychological and emotional struggle is what drives people off the Appalachian Trail.”

“What was interesting to me about the trail were the mind games, the AT culture, the roller coaster of emotions, and the personal metamorphosis that comes from living in the woods for half a year.”

Zach identifies three types of AT hikers in Appalachian Trials.

1. Hikers who quit due to the mental challenges of the trail
2. Hikers who manage to make it to Katahdin only through determination, but who do not enjoy the process
3. Hikers who enjoy most, or perhaps all, of the process while successfully thru-hiking the AT

Zach hopes to help more hikers make it into the third category.

Appalachian Trials is organized into four sections.

• Pre-trail
• On-trail
• Post-trail
• Bonus material

The first three sections, pre-, on-, and post-trail all address common pitfalls and helpful mental tools to overcome psychological obstacles on the trail. The final section includes an entire chapter on gear for the AT, FAQs, money saving tips, and more.

“When it comes to backpacking 2,200 miles, the greatest determining factor of success is purpose.”

The Virginia Blues is the subject of chapter four. Virginia, which accounts for almost precisely one-fourth of the total trail mileage, is often blamed for hiker depression. Virginia is not to blame, Zach argues, instead providing helpful tips for not only surviving, but enjoying, Virginia.

“Hike your own hike” is a trademark AT trail slogan. Sometimes though this may be easier said than done. Zach addresses social dynamics on the trail, groups, and hiking partners while considering how to “hike your own hike” successfully.

Hiking the AT will certainly present thru-hikers with some obstacles. Chapter seven considers how to conquer those obstacles to keep the hike enjoyable.

“If you can’t embrace what’s happening, you should at the very least accept what’s in front of you. Wishing that your day were anything other than what is, is the fastest path to dissatisfaction.”

“This very well might be the greatest challenge in your life. What do you want to remember about the way you handled it?“

The story doesn’t end when a hiker finishes the AT at Katahdin though. Chapter nine addresses life after the AT with some helpful thoughts adjusting back into the “real world,” post-AT depression, and post-trail weight gain. Zach includes seven tips for avoiding post-trail weight gain.

Several bonus chapters are included at the end of the book.

• Chapter 11, written by Ian Mangiardi, covers AT hiking gear.
• Chapter 12 addresses Lyme disease and tick safety.
• Chapter 13 includes FAQs, and some other odds and ends, covering topics from sponsorships to mail drops to whether to hike SoBo or NoBo.

Appalachian Trials fills a unique niche in AT trail literature. This book will help prepare any long-distance hiker, AT or otherwise, for the ups and downs of trail life. Definitely buy this book if you are even thinking about thru-hiking the AT or another long trail. The few dollars you spend will be money well invested.

My longest outdoor excursion to date was a week-long canoe trip/seminary class in Algonquin Provincial Park in Ontario, Canada. I wish I had read Appalachian Trials before taking that trip as it might have prepared me for some of the psychological stress and emotional ups and downs that I experienced on that trip.

Appalachian Trials is available in paperback or for Kindle from Amazon. Both editions are reasonably priced and a good value for the money.

Zach blogs at The Good Badger, even when he is walking through the woods from Georgia to Maine.

Related posts:

1. On the Beaten Path: An Appalachian Pilgrimage – Book Review
2. AWOL on the Appalachian Trail – Book Review

E-mail subscriptions typically offer daily digest updates whenever the site is updated. This is convenient – and nice as far as it goes – but is falls short, in my opinion.

Some sites, wisely I think, offer subscribers more. These sites may offer bonus content or special offers available only (or at least first) to subscribers.

Robert’s Musings

I have wanted to create an e-mail newsletter for my readers for some time. I also wanted to offer my newsletter readers more than just updates from the site, but was undecided on how to proceed. Finally, I have come up with a plan for the newsletter.

Robert’s Musings (the name for now at least) is my new newsletter. This is a low-volume, spam-free, e-mail newsletter. Robert’s Musings will be sent periodically (weekly to monthly), and will include new essays that have been posted to the site. Subscribers will also receive bonus material not posted on the site though, including essays, reviews, sample book chapters, and more.

Perhaps best of all, Robert’s Musings is free. Subscribe today and see if this isn’t the best free newsletter you have ever received. You can unsubscribe at any time.

Visit http://tinyletter.com/robertwitham to subscribe today.

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I wrote about my experience with lumbar-sacral herniated disc repair in September 2010. Honestly, I did not expect much interest in the article. At the time I was bored and home-bound while recovering from back surgery and, in an effort to entertain myself, decided to write about my experience. To my surprise, that article has remained one of the top articles on my website during the 17 months since I first published the essay. Apparently I am not the only one with an interest in this surgery.

It occurs to me each time I look at my site traffic statistics that I should update that first article about back surgery to reflect my experiences in the months since. During the months that have passed, I have experienced both improvements and setbacks. This essay can be considered part two in my ongoing adventure of recovering from a disc rupture and back surgery.

My early recovery progressed as expected and by late November I was cleared by the neurosurgeon for normal life after back surgery – permanent 20-pound lifting restrictions, and care with bending, twisting, or jumping. I was also forewarned that my first winter might be rough due to possible arthritis. It was rough. It was better than life before back surgery, but I still spent every cold, damp day awaiting a warm, dry day.

Late spring found me feeling good and able to move around without much thought for my back. Unfortunately, it was not to last. Summer brought numbness in my left leg again, along with increasing lower back pain. The numbness in my foot and leg worsened to the point where I suffered a severe ankle sprain walking across the lawn because I could not feel where I was walking. (Six weeks walking with a special boot that effectively made one leg longer than the other did nothing for my lower back problems!)

I finally made an appointment to see the neuro-surgeon again after the ankle sprain. An MRI and x-ray series identified the cause of my problem: scar tissue at the surgical site.

The symptoms has worsened to the point that I was reduced to walking with a cane by the time I saw the neurosurgeon. It was this or “furniture walking” where I leaned on furniture and counters to move about the house. I could not hold myself up because my back was so bad.

I spent two months debating with the neurosurgeon’s office about the treatment direction. The neurosurgeon refused to consider surgically removing the scar tissue, based on the assumption that it would just recur. (It might, but at my age I would try anything for a chance at normal functioning.) The doctor wanted me to have an S-1 nerve block performed to treat the symptoms. I declined. They wanted me to see a pain specialist for consideration of a dorsal column stimulator implant. I grudgingly consented, though I very nearly canceled the appointment several times. I did not feel the treatment options that my doctors were recommending were appropriate for me, and I did not feel that they were taking the time to listen.

I finally saw the pain control specialist in the fall of 2011. This doctor agreed with me that an S-1 block would be useless. Further, he felt that a dorsal column stimulator implant would be a bad choice for me as well. He did recommend considering another epidural injection at L4-L5 though – one level above the surgical site. I decided, in this case, I had little or nothing to lose. The first three epidural injections done before surgery had not been helpful, but this doctor suggested that it was a different situation after surgery and worth an attempt.

This epidural injection provided substantial pain relief within about 30 minutes of the injection. I was amazed as I had not expected any relief. I was even more impressed when, within 60 minutes of the injection, I was almost pain free. This was the best I had felt in months! (Too bad it cost $2,000 for the procedure.) I was suddenly able to walk without a cane.

The benefits of the epidural injection, sadly, did not last. I enjoyed substantial pain relief for a full week. Within two weeks I was pretty much back where I started. Now, several months later, it is like I never had the procedure. Of course, these procedures can be performed three times per year, but $6,000 per year for injections is a little rich for my blood. I also question the safety and efficacy of repeated epidural injections. Each injection carries the risk of infection, hemorrhage, and the puncture of things not intended to be punctured. If the injections provided three to six months of relief I would probably consider continuing with this treatment course. One or two weeks is not an acceptable result though, in my mind.

I still wonder whether a spinal surgeon could successfully remove enough scar tissue with a microscopic surgery to relieve the nerve compression. Unfortunately, I live in an area of the country that lacks many specialties – including a spinal center.

My only other treatment option is to consider a spinal cord stimulator unit, but I am quite skeptical that this would be a good option for me – as is the pain management  doctor.

Meanwhile, I wait and suffer – and rely on oral narcotics to manage intractable pain. Fortunately, I have a desk job these days, but I am now beginning to experience days where the pain is too bad to sit or concentrate. Damp and cold days are particularly difficult.

Am I glad that I went through with the surgery? Yes, I am. My condition was so bad at the time that I had no choice. I would never recommend this surgery to anyone as a first-line treatment option, but sometimes all other options are exhausted. In the end, an imperfect treatment is still better than no treatment, and I am glad to have had the disc repaired. I do wish the end result had been more successful. I’m really too young for this level of disability.

Related posts:

1. My experience with lumbar-sacral herniated disc repair

Visiting with Grammie in May, 2011. This was the last time I saw my Grammie.

The last time we were able to visit was in May. You were at home, in your own bed, watching birds and flowers outside in your little garden. You told me of the newest flowers that your children had recently bought for your garden. I saw almost no one else on that 30-minute visit to Cambridge but, by God’s mercy, I did see you. Aunt Cheryl also had the wisdom, perhaps the foresight, to take a photograph of us together. That photograph is now my favorite. Several hours later, as I was on my way back to Montana, I received a phone call and learned that you had been readmitted to the nursing home. I will forever treasure the memory of our visit that spring day.

I have spent the past few days wondering what to write. You were one of my biggest fans as a writer. It was you who encouraged me to continue with my first novella, Treasure Mountain. You were also the first to read the manuscript when I finished, actually you were one of the few ever to read it, and you still managed to find something good to say about what was surely the worst fiction you ever read. You also scoured every newspaper that has published my work to be sure you missed not a word of my writing. How could I do other than to say goodbye for now in writing.

I have struggled to write this letter because no amount of words will do justice to what I wish to say. Your life was too excellent to reduce to several hundred words. Several thoughts do stand out to me though, so I offer them here.

You are one of the best people I have ever known. I don’t know that I have ever heard anyone say a bad word about you. You taught me by your example what it means to live as a good person.

You and Bumpa had a promising career in music and entertaining. I remain certain that you would have gone far and been wealthy and famous. You discovered a higher calling though, and you taught me by your example what it means to forsake all for the sake of conviction and living out what you believe.

You taught me what it means to live a life of influence through service. You have loved others, served others, and had a profound influence on more people than I could ever hope to influence.

You lived a life of integrity and character in a world where these are not common. You taught me what it means to live with character and integrity as defining values.

You taught me to laugh, and to be quick with a witty response. I enjoy making people laugh. You would have been proud of the one-liner I pulled at work on Friday.

Your life also was marked by grace and poise. In trying to define this it occurred to me that you are a lady. You lived your life with such class that I just cannot think of a better term. I have known many good women in my life, each of whom have different strengths and traits. None of them are as much of a lady as you are though. You will always be the standard in my mind when I think of a lady.

You also taught me to love God and the Scriptures. I love the Scripture that reminds us we do not grieve as those who do not have hope. I do grieve your passing terribly, but I also have hope. I also love the psalm which reminds us that precious in the eyes of the Lord is the death of one of His saints. I may mourn that you are no longer with me on this earth, but God rejoices that you are now with Him – which is much better.

The power of a life lived well cannot be overstated, but it can be appreciated, emulated, and celebrated. Thank you, Grammie, for living well. I love you, and I look forward to the day when we meet again and you can take your firstborn grandson for a nature walk through heaven. Until that day, I will treasure the memories we share and continue to celebrate you for there is no one like you.

Note: I wrote and published this letter today for my grandmother, Clara “Bonnie” Collier Campbell Witham. My dear Grammie went home to be with the Lord on Tuesday, January 24, 2012. This is a brief, and grossly inadequate, letter in her memory.

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