When What You Want Isn't What You Need

And a Beans and Rice Recipe that Made Me a Believer

Photo by Christian Lue on Unsplash

A few weeks ago I had breakfast with a very dear friend of mine who has been an avid runner for years. She’s the type that goes out for a 10-miler “to blow off steam” when the rest of us just curl up on the couch with a pint of Haagen Dazs and a box of Kleenex. She’s gorgeous and lithe, everything you’d expect a runner to be. But she doesn’t have an elitist bone her body—she believes running is for everyone. So when I began my own recent foray into running, I knew I wanted her to be one of the first people I shared my journey with.

That morning, after the waitress cleared the empty napkins and dirty plates from our table, I leaned towards my friend and said in a low voice, “So…I’ve been running.”

Her face immediately lit up and her lips parted into a massive smile. “Yeah!!!” she squealed. “Tell me all about it!”

And I did. I started off with all the great stuff, the things I’d been learning about myself, the “can’ts” I was turning into “cans,” my small but steady improvements in breathing technique, speed, and distance. And she showered me with praise and encouragement after every sentence, which was exactly what I expected. But since we’ve been friends for almost 15 years now, I knew it was safe to share with her the less shiny-happy parts of my story, too. Plus, I was looking for an answer that had been nagging at me since the beginning of my journey.

“But sometimes,” I said, “I just really don’t want to get out there and do it. I mean, I’m always glad when I do, but sometimes I’d rather do anything else on the planet than go for a run.”

I didn’t just say this as a blow off statement, because months into this journey, I still found myself wondering if, despite all the amazing things I learned, maybe I really wasn’t a runner. I imagined that runners loved running, that they couldn’t wait to get out the door every day, pounding the pavement with big Cheshire Cat smiles on their faces. That definitely had not been my experience thus far.

I didn’t hate my runs, and they were getting progressively easier as the weeks progressed. And much to my delight, I was actually experiencing those “feel like flying” moments that I’d loved when running as a child. But it was the getting out the door that continued to be so hard. It felt like a physical force was trying to hold me back from lacing up my sneakers and stepping out onto the pavement. I wondered if that force was my body’s way of trying to say, “This isn’t for you, because if it was, it would be easier.”

So I was eager to hear my friend’s response to my confession.

And what she said astounded me.

“Oh, girl,” she sighed. “I never want to go for my runs. I’ve been doing this for 30 years and every time I have to drag myself out the door. But once I’m out there, I’m good. Usually. But even when I’m not, I know what the run is doing for me, and that’s why I keep going.”

I know what the run is doing for me.

That phrase kept rattling around in my brain long after we’d given our good-bye hugs and I’d driven away from the restaurant. In her short response I believed I had discovered the key to keep showing up and doing the work.

Last week I shared about this concept of cobweb fences. These are the barriers that the negative voices in our heads use to discourage or disqualify us from challenges. I believe that the first step towards doing hard things is believing that we can. And maybe for some of us, that’s the hardest step. But actually doing it is pretty gosh darn difficult, too. Because usually the mountain we’re trying to climb isn’t an easy one. It’s going to require us to do some things that we’ve agreed that we can do, but when it comes right down to it, we don’t want to do them.

You know what I mean, right? It’s not always easy to choose to do the things that are best for us. Whether we’re talking about relationships we are in, ways we spend our free time, foods we eat, or the activities we do (or don’t do) with our bodies, the best decisions aren’t always the easiest ones. In fact, they rarely are.

That’s when we have to know why we’re doing it.

So why, after all these months, was I still running? Yes, I wanted to do something hard and I wanted to change my negative mindsets into positive ones. But I wanted specificity. I needed concrete advantages that would get my fingers tying up my laces and my legs walking down my front porch steps out onto the road. Why do it?

Answer #1: Because when I get back from my run, my body feels wonderfully worn out but my energy levels soar. That once daunting to-do list on my desk suddenly looks like just the appetizer that comes before all the other stuff I’m going to accomplish in my day.

Answer #2: Because even though depression tends to hover in the shadows around me more often than not, when I finish a run, my mind is light and hopeful after its exercise-induced feast of endorphins. And it feels good to feel happy.

Answer #3: Because every day activities are easier to do, like running up the stairs to fetch something I forgot in our bedroom or holding our too-big-to-be-held seven-year-old so she can see the stage at church or the routine of squats I have to perform every time I put the groceries away. My body does all these things with wonderful ease now.

Answer #4 (and maybe the most important reason): Because it’s good for me to do things I don’t always want to do.

We live in a society that tells us that we deserve to get everything that we want. But what The Man uses as a marketing tool to sell more iPhones or potato chips or pick-up trucks, we’ve adopted as a rule of life: “I do what I want and I don’t do what I don’t want.” Unfortunately, our wants don’t always line up with our needs. Sometimes we have to do the very thing we don’t want to do to get what we actually need.

So, friend, if you don’t mind me asking, what do you need?

I started this running journey because I needed to know why I still felt this desire to run that rooted in me as a child. I imagine your need is very different from that and unique to you. Maybe you need to feel better in your body or make changes in some of your relationships or pursue that passion that keeps bubbling up in your spirit. The first steps are so difficult to take. And so are the second. And the third. But it does get easier. Because each time you take a step, you discover another reason to keep going and the momentum builds. And before long the thing you couldn’t imagine yourself ever doing is actually happening. And you’re the one doing it.

If it just so happens that “eat healthier” happens to be on your “need” list right now, I hope you’ll keep showing up here, friend. I’d be honored to cheer you on while giving you recipes to add to you “get healthy” toolbox. In the weeks to come, I’ll start releasing some fun little cooking videos that we’re working on here in The Kitchen, which will hopefully inspire you (but at the very least entertain you.)

And if eating healthier couldn’t be further from your mind, feel free to keep showing up, too, if only for the conversation and the laughs. Everybody’s welcome here in The Kitchen!

But I’m not being true to myself if I sign off without offering a recipe for you to try out in the upcoming week, should your heart so desire. This one is from my earliest days in my whole-food-plant-based journey. When I finally abandoned cooking separate meals for myself and my family, this recipe was my first go-to. Check it out below!

Image by Plant Pure Nation

Before I became vegetarian and adopted a mostly whole food plant based diet, my family was used to a meat dish gracing our table at every meal. Hence, when I decided to give up the bacon and chicken breasts and sirloin steaks, I’m sure my kids were imagining meals of celery sticks and steamed peas every night from that moment on. However, despite their bleak expectations, they came to the table each night willing to at least try what I might have to offer.

So when I sat steaming bowls of Kim Campbell’s Costa Rican Beans and Rice before them one evening, they were more than pleasantly surprised—they downright loved it. And I proceeded to feed it to them every week for the next 6 months. That is, until my middle daughter finally said, “Mama, I think I’ve had enough of the beans and rice, now.” It was her polite way of saying, “Mom, you overdid a good thing. It’s time to stop.” So I did. But this recipe has always had a fond place in my heart. It helped me believe that I could make a healthy and delicious change for our family. I hope it inspires you in the same way!