I got robbed. (You'll never believe what they stole)

I got robbed. (You won't believe what they stole)

Hi ,

I just recorded a podcast with Selene Yeager (former pro mountain bike racer, cycling journalist, host of the Hit Play Not Pause podcast, and all-around amazing, powerful woman). Among oh-so-many gems, she reflected on the joy of eating not one, but two slices of toast with breakfast. 

Where she’d previously limited herself to one piece, at some point she asked herself where that limit even came from and whether it was serving her. (Spoiler: it came from diet culture, and no, dear reader, it was not serving her. Subscribe to Real Fit so you don’t miss the full interview when it airs.)

Our toast conversation reminded me of the time I got robbed. It was the winter of 2007, I was living alone on the second floor of a three-family house in Pawtucket, Rhode Island, and I was perplexed because the only thing my burglar took was my broom. 

I knew it sounded crazy — a thief broke into my home, presumably while I was at work or maybe on a bike ride, and took, of all the things, a five-dollar broom my mom bought me at Job Lot!? I felt a strange mixture of violation and confusion. 

Before I called the cops, I called my best friend. 

“Are you sure it was stolen?” she asked. 

 “If it wasn’t stolen, where would it be? I’ve looked everywhere.” I’d thoroughly searched all 800 square feet of my apartment. 

Since there was no sign of forced entry, the next person I called was my mother. While I couldn’t discern a potential motive, as the only person I’d given a spare key, she certainly had the means. 

My mom asserted her innocence. 

“Pammy, I don’t have your broom. Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?”

I was sure.

The only person left to call was my Russian landlord. While he undoubtedly had a broom of his own, he too, had a key to the unit. I didn’t know him well but I liked him and sensed he was a good man. Surely, whatever reason he had to enter my apartment unannounced and take my personal property was justified. 

I imagined us sharing a chuckle over what we’d someday refer to as The Great Broom Debacle of 2007 once I got over the awkwardness of asking him if by any chance he’d borrowed my broom without asking. 

But before I had the chance to dial his number, I walked into the second bedroom/office/auxiliary workout clothes closet and shut the door behind me. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something green and distinctly broom-shaped. 

Time stood still as I turned to face the shiny object that had been hiding between the wall and the (previously) open door. Before me was the broom I was positive had been confiscated by my landlord. 

I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. Had he perhaps borrowed it and returned it in the space of a few days, without my ever seeing him come and go? 

Or… had it been there, lurking in the shadows all along???  

My best friend and I still get a laughing-so-hard-it-hurts-belly laugh out if this story, which could be proof that one should put things back where they belong. It could also mean life would be easier if you never did boring tasks like sweeping. Or it could be evidence that I’ve consumed too much true crime content.

Whatever it is, it’s a testament to the power of the stories we tell ourselves. Once I convinced myself that my broom was stolen, I turned every piece of “evidence” into a clue that would help me crack The Case of the Stolen Broom. 

I was so sure that my story was true that I forgot to be curious. Just like Selene spent years eating just one slice of bread because that was how she thought she was supposed to eat, not knowing how much more energy she’d have if she ate more carbs, I was turning my apartment into a crime scene and rounding up suspects when my time would have been better spent tidying. 

As humans, we need stories to make sense of our experiences. But when those stories don’t serve us, we have a choice — we can keep on believing them and living with the pain they create, or we can write new ones.

So I’m inviting you to get curious about the stories that are interfering with your ability to experience peace in your relationship with food, exercise, and your body.

TLDR: If obsessing about food and your body is dimming your light and muffling your voice, it’s time to rewrite your stories. (And I’m a really good editor.)

xo,

4 Things worth checking out

  • If you have an hour: I’ve gotten a ton of great feedback from listeners on my recent Real Fit interview with cyclist and sports psychologist Erin Ayala. We talked about self-compassion, gravel racing, what it means to create a size inclusive community in sport, and so much more.

  • If you have two hours: Drop everything and go see the Barbie movie. It’s about womanhood, the patriarchy, and the joy and pain of being human. I was feeling blah and burnt out before I went and I left feeling like I’d received an injection of joy and hope directly to my soul.

  • If you have 10 minutes: I have a lot of complicated, sometimes conflicting thoughts on the new class of weight loss drugs (semaglutides including Wegovy, Ozempic, and Mounjaro), but this CNN article was straight-up alarming. (h/t Dan Moore for sharing the link!)

  • If you have 30 minutes: I got to talk about my bike (and sports and journalism and intuitive eating) with the lovely and talented Rachel Levy Lesser and Stephanie Goldstein on the Life’s Accessories Podcast. (They named the episode Switching Gears and I really love a good pun.)

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