What Would You Eat?
When the crunchy PB is just too thick…
An unavoidable question, it seems, is what would I eat on a given day? Most people are quite surprised when I tell them it was mostly a see-food diet. That is, If you see food that isn’t nailed down, you eat quickly and unapologetically, only stopping for a few short breaths between bites. Kidding aside, you do develop a very strange relationship with food while bike touring. Most assume that I would go through great lengths to fuel my body with nutritious food that was high in protein, vitamins, and nutrients. A “my body my temple” approach, if you will. That’s how I wanted to eat. However, there are two factors that hinder your food selection drastically. The number one thing that your body needs in this situation is calories. Frankly, healthy low-calorie food just doesn’t contain enough energy to be a worthwhile investment. Secondly, the cost of this nutritious food is oftentimes significantly higher than junk food when considering your caloric intake as the most important variable.
Picture this: Let’s say I wanted to be a bit more conscious of my eating while on the road. I visit a supermarket on my way through town and load up on fruits and vegetables. A single apple contains about 100 calories and costs 50 cents. In this scenario, a five-dollar bill would only get me 1,000 calories. Additionally, 10 apples take up quite a bit of space. A jar of peanut butter, on the other hand, would only cost about two bucks, contain 3,000 calories, and take up much less space in my bag. Fast food chains were also quite difficult to pass up. For fifteen dollars I could eat my fill knowing that I was adding pure fuel to my system in the form of a double cheeseburger and a large Oreo shake.
After a few weeks, I became tired of shoveling spoonfuls of peanut butter and Nutella into my face throughout the day. This isn’t surprising considering I was going through a few jars of each in a week. I took both items off the menu and began to search for something that could replace my former source of pedal power, and began playing a game that I called “Clog My Arteries”. Once a day, I would walk into a gas station, (Yes, a gas station) and grab the cheapest most high-calorie foods that I could find. My goal was to find the best cost-per-calorie ratio. With some trial and error, I eventually stumbled upon what I consider to be the holy grail of endurance nutrition. For four dollars and thirty-five cents, I could get a twelve-pack of Little Debbie Swiss Rolls. (I’m not sponsored but I should be.) Each roll contained almost 300 calories. The box added up to about 3,600 calories; more than half a day’s worth of riding. After purchasing one of these boxes, I would promptly walk into the parking lot, tear open the packaging, and devour all twelve rolls in a single sitting. You would think that I’d feel terrible after doing so. I thought so too at first. Surprisingly, I felt incredible. The instant sugar rush was a nice thing to have in the morning. A sudden burst of energy would carry me for a few hours. Then, the slow-burning fat would begin to metabolize, and another surge of energy would hit me just as the sugar rush began to wear off. A single box of Swiss rolls would take me well into the afternoon.
You would think that with all of these poor eating habits, I would be gaining a lot of weight. Not true. I literally could not eat enough in a day to get myself out of a caloric deficit. I was eating four to six thousand calories a day. To put that into perspective, picture all the food that you ate yesterday. Think about how you might feel after each meal. Now, imagine doubling each one of your portions. Now, triple them. I was literally eating myself to the point where I could almost not move due to how full I was. That feeling never lasted long. My metabolism had become so high that I developed an almost insatiable hunger. No matter how much I stuffed myself, within a few hours I would be going mad with hunger pains. By the end of my journey, even with all of this eating, I had still lost 18 pounds.
I once decided to treat myself to a sit-down meal in New Mexico. I had just crossed the continental divide and had 25 more miles to go before I’d be able to stop for the night. I caught wind that a snowstorm was rolling in, and over a foot of snow was expected to fall that night. I needed to make it to a lower altitude and spend the night indoors if possible. But, that was a problem for later. As I slid into the booth at an empty Mexi-American restaurant, all I could think about was the heaping pile of enchiladas I was about to order. After perusing the menu, the Mexico City Burger also caught my eye. I decided at that moment that I would order both items.
“Oh, I didn’t know you had someone else joining you.” said the waitress with a distinct accent. “I’ll get another tablet for you. She vanished and returned moments later to set the table for my non-existent company. Soon after, she brought out a massive cheeseburger accompanied by a towering pile of fries and set it down in front of me. “Sorry, the enchiladas are going to be a few more minutes,” she said before vanishing again. I was already stuffing my face. By the time she returned with the other entree, I had completely cleared both the burger and fries off of the plate and set it on the placemat across from me. I glanced up at her, eagerly awaiting the second half of my meal. She had a shocked expression as she slowly set down the plate in front of me. Either she was baffled at how quickly I scarfed down my burger, or she was amazed that I was still hungry for more. Perhaps it was a combination of the two.
I began shoveling the beans, rice, and enchiladas into my face the second that the porcelain dish hit the table. The waitress, knowing I would be done eating shortly, set off to retrieve the check. Upon her return, she began asking me questions about what I was up to. I elaborated on my adventure and politely mentioned that I needed to get going so that I could reach Silver City before nightfall. She smiled, handed me my receipt, and said “I could tell as soon as you walked in here that you had a story.” A bit puzzled by her statement, I rose from my seat, thanked her for the hospitality, and moved for the door. As the doors swung closed behind me, I realized what she was talking about. I fished my phone out of my pocket and turned on the camera. It was the first time I looked at myself in a week. My hair was sun-bleached and fraying horribly at the ends. A scraggly beard and mustache that hadn’t been groomed in weeks was blanketing my jaw. My face, hands, and legs below my knees had all been dried out and turned to leather by the sun. Dirt and grease had both covered my skin and clothing. I looked like a total dirtbag, and felt like one too. It didn’t bother me, though. I knew that I was living the dream.
