Table Talk

In 2024 I was sitting in my nutritionist’s office for the very first time. I remember knowing, even then, that this wouldn’t be a one-time visit. It would be one of many. More importantly, it would be the first of many steps I chose to take that year to reclaim control of my life.

I am endlessly grateful for that woman… and for that day.

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The Marathon

In 2023, I signed up for my first marathon.

At the time, I was recovering from a medication reaction and navigating the diagnosis of a rare immune disorder. I hated how I looked. I hated how I felt. I had already run a couple of half marathons, and I convinced myself it was time for a new challenge. I told myself that I needed to prove I could do hard things.

If I’m being honest, I was also chasing the idea of a different body - the one I imagined would surely come after weeks of running and lifting through a grueling training block, right??

My relationship with food had never been perfect, but it had never been this obsessive either. I had never restricted, second-guessed or scrutinized my plate the way I did during that season of life.

Training demanded more than I even understood. My body simply could not keep up with the energy I was expending. I’d wake up early to fit in my miles, and before the workday even began, I had already burned hundreds of calories. I felt weak. I felt undereducated. Slowly, I began to dread the very process I had once been so excited about.

Yes, I ran the 26.2. I crossed the finish line.
But my body wasn’t strong. I hadn’t fueled during my training and I had very little muscle to help me get through that race.

The girl who ran that race proved she could accomplish something incredibly hard and at the same time, she felt miserable in her own skin. Still.

The Nutritionist

My nutritionist approached everything from a place of education, not judgment. Our sessions were never about shame.

We talked about what a healthy, functioning body actually needs to get through a day. Then we talked about what it needs to get through a day that includes a workout. She broke down carbohydrates, fats, proteins, fruits, sugars, vitamins… not as “good” or “bad,” but as necessary.

I relearned everything I thought I knew about food.

After several months of investing in those sessions, something shifted. I no longer felt confused walking into a grocery store. I no longer spiraled over a restaurant menu or a DoorDash scroll. I felt equipped & confident. Capable of making choices that supported my lifestyle and my goals without any stress involved.

The art of learning to cook for myself, at 22 …

I’ve never called myself a bad cook, but for most of my life, cooking simply wasn’t something I did!

I grew up with an amazing mom who kept our fridge stocked with beautiful groceries from Whole Foods and made almost every meal from scratch. In college, I didn’t have time for anything that wasn’t microwavable. Later, I lived with a man who loved to cook, and insisted on taking that role.

When that relationship ended and I moved back home something changed. For the first time, I prioritized feeding myself. Not just eating, but truly nourishing.

I took what I had learned from my nutritionist and paired it with the basic skills I already had, and became determined to do this for myself.

Somewhere in that process, cooking (nothing fancy) became more than a task. It became happiness and a form of self respect.

I fell in love with grocery shopping for fresh ingredients. With the act of mise en place. With the intention behind building a meal that would give my body exactly what it needed. (energy, strength, clarity) I LOVE seeing a colorful plate in front of me. I love knowing every component serves a purpose.

I even began romanticizing my breakfasts, as you can tell from those pictures.

Because how lucky am I to wake up and prepare something bright and beautiful for myself?

How lucky am I to nourish a body that carries me through hard things?