The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
the b-side
Thursday, November 12, 2015 — 3B

Joan Didion once said, “We 

tell ourselves stories in order to 
live.” I believe that, I repeat it to 
myself often and I even reduced 
the quote to an alternative 
version that I find applicable to 
my shortcomings — “Caro tells 
herself lies in order to make up 
for her missteps.” Last Monday, 
I did just that as I promised 
myself I’d embark on a weeklong 
diet: the baby food diet. Inspired 
by Rebecca Harrington, New 
York 
Magazine’s 
designated 

celebrity dieter, and drawn 
to the possibility of having 
something in common with 
Reese 
Witherspoon 
and 

Jennifer 
Aniston 
— 
two 

unconfirmed 
advocates 
and 

survivors of the unbranded 
program — I decided to give the 
baby food diet a whirl.

After perusing Harrington’s 

canon of past experiments, I 
struggled to find one that struck 
a balance between downright 
obscure — I was particularly 
horrified by Elizabeth Taylor’s 
peanut butter and steak diet 
— and seemingly doable. So, I 
retreated to the never-ending 
remainder of the worldwide 
web and somehow came across 
the most bizarre plan of them 
all. Admittedly, I’ve replaced 
baby food for applesauce in 
countless recipes and have 
shamelessly licked the lid of the 
pull-top containers to sample it 
untainted by additional flavors. 
Prior to this attempted diet, 
I genuinely found the fruity 
flavors to exceed expectations, 
but 
steered 
clear 
of 
the 

vegetable varieties.

According 
to 
celebrity 

diet 
blogs, 
the 
unorthodox 

regimen allots those absurd 
enough to attempt adhering 
to the plan (me) a maximum 
of 14 containers of baby food 
interspersed 
throughout 
the 

day with one normal, ideally 
well-balanced meal. I knew it’d 
be a challenge, but I told myself 
I could do it!

Preparation:

Monday

Mid-Monday 
afternoon, 
I 

realized 
the 
essentiality 
of 

prep for this thing. Seeing as 
my barren cupboards house 
only teabags and Keurig cups, 
I needed to rush-order a week’s 
supply of baby food. I opted 
for three bulk variety packs 
promising an assortment of 
fruit and vegetable purees. I 
chose next-day delivery (spoiler 
alert: packages didn’t arrive the 
next day).

That night, I was fraught with 

anxiety over the application of 
this extreme regimen. I couldn’t 
rationalize why I’d ordered 
baby food earlier that day. 
Sure, babies for the most part 
inhabit ideal lifestyles — their 
cuteness is constantly validated 
and their to-do list only seldom 
extends 
performing 
basic 

bodily functions and cooing — 
but did I really want to eat like 
them?

Tuesday

Upon waking up, I tracked 

my package of infant staples. 
According 
to 
Amazon, 
it 

wasn’t 
scheduled 
to 
arrive 

until Wednesday. Excellent! I 
intended to devote the next two 
days to a slight-DIY baby food 
diet, meaning I’d physically 
shop for the food. Alas, both 
Walgreens AND Victor’s did 

not have baby food in stock, so 
I surrendered to my adult-food 
cravings and ordered sushi. I 
later dubbed this Tuesday my 
“prep day,” essentially meaning 
my version of a nightcap was a 
copious amount of fro-yo.

Wednesday

As soon as my iPhone lit 

up with the automated text 
message my apartment building 
sends 
whenever 
a 
package 

arrives in your name, I was 
uncharacteristically 
excited 

to begin my dabble in dieting. 
Directly 
after 
my 
morning 

class, I headed to my building’s 
leasing office to pick up the 
dietary delivery.

“It’s kind of heavy!” said the 

leasing office lady.

“I wonder what it is!” I 

sheepishly exclaimed. I very 
well knew what it was, I 
just didn’t see “ingester of 
baby food” an accurate first 
impression to leave this woman 
with.

As soon as I ascended to 

the fourth floor, I tore the 
box open, but all I found was 
disappointment. 
Online, 
the 

extensive product description 
promised a variety of sweet 
potato, corn, pea, apple and 
banana 
flavors, 
yet 
these 

“variety 
packs” 
merely 

contained banana, apple and 
sweet potato flavors.

Since the plan allotted me 14 

containers a day, I immediately 
tried all three, only to find my 
taste aversion to the sweet 
potato puree. I was pretty 
opposite-of-stoked about this 
since 
it 
was 
approximately 

one-third of my food intake for 
the next week. However, the 
banana and apple flavors were 
unexpectedly delicious.

After my two delicious and 

sole containers, I met up with 
a friend to study. I pretended to 
read, but actually watched said 
friend eat noodles as he scoffed 
at my mention of my new diet. 
For the remainder of the day, 
I 
was 
uncharacteristically 

un-hungry, likely due to the 
combination of conceptualizing 
a baby food-centric eating plan 
and my impending evening 
exam. Following the brutal 
exam, I limped home and simply 
passed out.

Thursday

Thursdays 
are 
my 
early 

class day with an 8 a.m. 
lab, but not even this rude-
awakening hour could deter my 
commitment to the diet. After 
all, each container decorated 
with photos of smiling babies 
radiated positivity. Side note: 
after further examining the 
packaging, 
aside 
from 
the 

cherubic infants, the words 
“made with the help of our tiny 
taste testers” were printed. 
Really? Do babies even have 
taste buds? If so, was I stupid for 
not knowing this? (I Googled it, 
and yeah, they do).

My breakfast consisted of 

three banana containers, but 
afterwards I made a mental 
note to chill with my banana 

intake. I knew I’d really hate 
myself in two days when I’d be 
forced to consider ingesting a 
sweet potato. Post-lab hunger 
led me to my one “normal 
meal,” for that day, a monstrous 
breakfast 
burrito. 
For 
the 

following meals, I consumed my 
remaining 11 containers of baby 
food. I even had an adventurous 
moment and decided to resolve 
woes with the sweet potato. 
After heavily salting, it wasn’t 
half bad. I was proud for having 
a successful diet day, yet irked 
with my bedtime hunger.

Friday

After 
my 
morning 
class, 

two friends and I decided to 
brunch at Afternoon Delight. 
Unable to resist my acclaimed 
brunching spot, I decided to 
maximize the diet and stretch 
the concept of “baby food” for 
more nourishment and less self-
hatred for subjecting myself to 
diet purgatory. I allowed myself 
a daily intake of mushy foods 
in tandem with baby food. I 
justified my oatmeal order by 
its identifiable mushiness.

I ate a few containers of baby 

food later in the day, but Friday 
eventually resulted in a diet 
flop. (I came to The Michigan 
Daily’s Editor in Chief election 
night. I saw the pizza. I ate the 
pizza.)

Saturday

Successful Saturday! After 

two meals of baby food, I was 
feeling 
good 
(but 
hungry) 

and ready for a healthy finale. 
My parents were in town for 
the game and treated me to a 
dinner of French onion soup, 
seared tuna and seaweed salad 
at Weber’s hotel. The hotel was 
even hosting a bar mitzvah just 
begging to be crashed. Seeing 
as approximately half my food 
intake had probably knocked 
me down a few years, I felt 
juvenile and ready to jump up 
and down on the dance floor. 
I didn’t, solely out of mother’s 
disdain.

Sunday

Surrender Sunday! I fully 

realized 
my 
stupidity 
for 

attempting to swap two daily 
meals for baby food and vowed 
to focus on my health. Even 
on 
successful 
days, 
I 
was 

ravenously hungry. I silently 
praised 
Witherspoon 
and 

Aniston for their strong-willed 
dieting habits as I scraped a 
banana container. 

That night, I ate seaweed 

and sushi and felt alive for the 
first time in a while — from the 
food and the sweet freedom 
of releasing myself from the 
shackles and unsophisticated 
palate fare of baby food.

Conclusion:

Though I couldn’t withstand 

a week of ingesting baby food, 
by spotlighting my diet and 
questioning my food choices more 
than usual, I actually learned a 
fucking lot about myself! In most 
respects, babies do indeed appear 
to live the dream, but their food 
is only tasty in small doses and 
simply trash when overkilled. 
After alternating between mush 
and puree, I would only willingly 
return to the infant stage if I had 
both the sophisticated palate and 
mastication mechanisms I do 
now, paired with the cognitive 
abilities to appreciate it all. I’ll 
surely never be a diet-endorsing 
celebrity, but after removing 
myself from the day-to-day, I’m 
content with my brunching, 
Blank Slate visits and brother 
lunch dates. 

BABY FOOD
From Page 1B

“Caro tells 

herself lies to 

make up for her 

missteps.”

L

ast week, The Wall 
Street Journal published 
an article with the head-

line “The Potential Cardiac 
Dangers of Extreme Exercise,” 
which 
stopped 
the 
hearts 
of every 
athlete 
read-
ing the 
page. The 
article 
describes 
findings 
from a 
British study presented to the 
European Society of Cardiol-
ogy last August, which tested 
169 veteran competitive endur-
ance athletes against a control 
group of 171 relatively sed-
entary adults, both free from 
cardiovascular risk factors, to 
highlight how exercise benefits 
(or harms) our hearts.

Indeed, their results supported 

our “Let’s Move!” mentality: Com-
pared to sedentary adults, commit-
ted athletes who ran a maximum 
of 35 miles a week had lower levels 
of coronary artery calcium — the 
plaque that blocks arteries — and 
were less likely to suffer from 
heart attacks and strokes.

But when athletes ran over 35 

miles per week, something weird 
happened. “Athletes who ran or 
cycled beyond that threshold were 
found to harbor higher levels of 
coronary artery calcium than did 
the control group,” the article said. 
Basically, a dedicated runner who 
logged 50 miles a week had the 
same — or worse — heart health 
than a couch potato.

Not so fast. There was another 

factor tested in the study: the inten-
sity of exercise. Results found that 
the slowest men and women had 
significantly lower levels of plaque 
than the sedentary group, which 
is consistent with the American 
Heart 
Association’s 
statement: 

“Walking briskly can lower your 
risk of high blood pressure, high 
cholesterol and diabetes as much 
as running.” Subjects who regular-

ly walked or jogged had healthier 
hearts than those who didn’t. Ath-
letes who trained at higher inten-
sities, however, had more ominous 
results. As women’s training speed 
increased, their plaque levels rose; 
still, they remained healthier than 
the sedentary group.

But the men who exercised 

the most at the highest intensi-
ties — think marathon studs like 
2014 Boston Marathon Cham-
pion Meb Keflezighi — lit up with 
red flags. Their levels of plaque, 
results showed, were significant-
ly higher than sedentary men. 
Why? Doctors cite “inflamma-
tion, changes in the structure of 
the heart or an excess secretion 
of certain proteins or hormones,” 
as potential causes.

The findings are unsettling, 

especially as a committed distance 
runner with a family history of 
heart problems. It makes me ques-
tion my own father’s cardiac inci-
dent, almost 30 years ago. A former 
varsity cross country runner at 
Albion College, my father had a 
sudden heart attack at 26 years old. 
He was young and physically fit, 
fresh out of law school, filling up 
his gas tank when it happened. He 
drove himself to the closest hospi-
tal, hand clamped to his chest — he 
said the pain was excruciating, but 
he’d run enough painful races to 
not be too alarmed.

His doctors blamed genetics 

and diet: his mother had cardio-
vascular problems; he’d eaten too 
many Big Macs. It was the early 
’90s, the era of Jane Fonda fitness 
tapes and jogging, athletes buoyed 
by the running boom of the ’70s. 
Getting too much exercise was 
never a concern. Should they have 
worried then?

Maybe now, instead of warn-

ing 
against 
over-exercising, 

researchers 
should 
consider: 

What makes endurance athletes 
go the distances they do, if not for 
health reasons?

School of Nursing Junior Alex 

Fauer, President of the U-M Tri-
athlon Club, has completed the 
holy grail of endurance competi-
tions — an Ironman Triathlon, 
which begins with a 2.4-mile 

swim, a 112-mile bike and finishes 
with 26.2-mile run (i.e. marathon). 
The races typically start at 7 a.m. 
and pack up at midnight, leav-
ing participants 17 hours to finish 
140.6 miles. It’s one of the longest, 
most grueling physical tests on the 
planet — one that even seasoned 
marathoners are wary of, for its 
brutal toll on the body.

I asked Fauer his opinion on 

potential health risks of too much 
exercise.

“The risk of fatigue from over-

training and overuse injuries are 
already on athletes’ radars. So 
where do we go from this?” Fauer 
said. “Are these athletes safe? I 
think before athletes are scared 
and stop training, they should con-
sider their current health and talk 
with physicians about monitoring 
the possibility of illness.”

He continued, “Personally, I 

think if an athlete has a passion 
for long distance training, he 
should embark on whatever jour-
ney that he feels he can achieve. I 
used this philosophy to motivate 
my training for my first Ironman 
last August.”

What the study doesn’t show: 

the cost of restricting passion. On 
principle, I ignore people who tell 
me what I love is unhealthy. In the 
words of Jonathan Beverly, editor 
in chief of Running Times Maga-
zine, “Whether or not running 
extends your life is irrelevant. We 
run not because it might make life 
longer, but because it makes life 
better — because we love how it 
makes us feel. And because we love 
it, we do it as much as our bodies 
allow. Forget moderation.”

Do I think running a steady 50 

miles per week makes me health-
ier than someone who jogs an 
easy 20? No.

Am I a better person because 

I run? Yes, absolutely. I feel more 
alive, accomplished, sound in my 
mind and body when I go far and 
fast. And if something must take a 
toll on my health, I want my vice to 
be miles. 

Middlebrook is a better person 

than you. To find how you’re trash, 

email hailharp@umich.edu.

HEALTH AND FITNESS COLUMN

Running the risk of 
too much exercise

HAILEY 

MIDDLEBROOK

RC faculty to read 
original work at EQ

EVENT PREVIEW

By NATALIE ZAK

For The Daily

“Those 
who 
cannot 
do, 

teach.” Whoever is guilty of 
construing 
this 
inaccurate 

condescension 
evidently 
never 
encountered 
a 
faculty 

member of the 
University’s 
Residential 
College.

The 
talent 

and experience 
offered 
by 

members 
of 

the Residential 
College faculty 
often 
goes 

unnoticed by the large student 
body that rests outside of its 
doors. 
Authors, 
poets 
and 

artists all lie within the college, 
and to small classes of lucky 
students, they impart their 
talent and wisdom. Among 
these maestros of art are author 
Robert James Russell, author 
and poet Laura Kasischke and 
Ken Mikolowski, a poet and 
retired professor of 38 years — 
all of whom will be performing 
in the RC’s second annual 
“Friday Night’s Alright for 
Reading” this Friday.

Offering selections from their 

past and present work, these 
writers and other members of 
the star-studded faculty will 
perform their award-winning 
poems and short stories. Russell 
and 
faculty 
member 
Laura 

Thomas devised the event last 
winter during Russell’s first 
year working at the University 

to 
display 
the 
talent 
and 

dedication overflowing from 
the RC.

Russell, 
author 
of 
two 

novellas and a collection of 
short stories, is an avid traveler 
who 
addresses 
multifarious 

places and ideas. From settings 
of eerie Japanese forests to the 
19th century West, Russell’s 
repertoire reflects his craftful 
ability to explore subjects he is 
not directly familiar with, but 
can construct nonetheless.

“I like relationships; I like 

space; I like landscape and I 
really like writing about how 
those things intersect; how 
our relationships are formed 
based on the space around us, 
how it informs who we are … 
how every place has its unique 
stories and mythologies to tell 
and how that makes us who we 
are based on where we grew 
up.”

Poetry for Kasischke, on 

the other hand, reflects her 
personal experiences. Though 
she 
incorporates 
tales 
of 

treachery, mystery and murder 
into 
her 
novels, 
Kasischke 

focuses on roots of a more 
intimate nature in her poetry. 
Gifted with the ability to 

write both fiction and poetry, 
she elaborated on the inverse 
processes for writing both.

“I write poetry and I write 

fiction and it’s two totally 
different processes. When I 
write fiction, it’s pretty much 
discipline … When I write 
poetry, it’s because I’ve had 
an idea for a while and finally 
found time to just be alone. I 
can work on a novel for about 
a half hour and then put it 
away; it could take years but I 
can handle that. With a poem, 
nothing is going to interrupt it 
or I’m not even going to try.”

However, after 38 years at 

the University and a lifetime 
of writing poetry, Mikolowski 
has the most experience to 
impart on young aspiring poets. 
Though he kept his writing 
and teaching separate during 
his time at the University, his 
abstract process for finding 
ideas 
and 
meditating 
on 

them before expressing them 
is reflected in his previous 
student Kasischke’s process.

“I walk around and I try to 

not ignore things. I try to pay 
attention. 
When 
something 

speaks to me, I listen. When 
something 
sounds 
right, 
I 

listen, and I go home and 
write it down. I try to convey 
thoughts about my own life 
and my own impending death. 
Everybody hates talking about 
that, but that’s what I try to 
connect in my poetry, and I find 
them pretty funny.”

A witness and partaker in 

the artistic revolution that 
occurred in Detroit in the 
’60s and ’70s, Mikolowski is 
aligned 
with 
contemporary 

poets of that age including 
Allen Ginsberg, Anne Waldman 
and Alice Notley. As a reaction 
to the insurgencies and riots 
that occurred in the urban 
center, the Artist’s Workshop, 
a run down apartment space 
dedicated to presenting art from 
individuals around the city, and 
Mikolowski’s Alternative Press 
were formed.

Run out of their basement, 

Mikolowski 
and 
his 
wife 

Ann published contemporary 
poetry from artists around 
Detroit on a printing press 
run and kept by the couple. 
To 
this 
day, 
Mikolowski 

finds himself channeling the 
innovative spirit that existed in 

reactionary Detroit by writing 
unconventional poetry. In his 
new collection “That That,” for 
instance, the longest poem is a 
mere three lines long.

One common theme remains 

between 
these 
acclaimed 

writers: Michigan. Although it 
may not have been the driving 
influence for most of their 
works, and could even exist 
entirely separately of what they 
write, these writers have had 
the University as the backdrop 
to their lives for as long as they 
have been in Ann Arbor. 

Though Russell, Kasischke 

and Maslowski all admit the 
themes 
invoked 
into 
their 

writing were kept separate 
from 
their 
teaching, 
they 

are still inspired by the trial 
and 
errors 
their 
fledgling 

writers endure in class. Being 
exposed to the work of young 
hopefuls 
admittedly 
pushes 

Russell to strive to be a better 
writer, and Kasischke, who 
participates in free writes with 
her students, immerses herself 
in the experience. It was in this 

classroom setting, in fact, that 
she began her first full-length 
novel.

Perhaps Mikolowski presents 

the most curious intersection 
of teaching and writing. Rather 
than let the lines between his 
University and writing life 
overlap, he kept them distinctly 
separate, and never let his 
poetic success define what 
writing meant for his students.

“I did not teach people how 

to write. How to write poetry 
is something I don’t even know, 
how do you write poetry? I 
taught them to want to write 
poetry.”

To have acclaimed writers 

and 
poets 
as 
teachers 
is 

humanizing, 
especially 
in 

a community of liberal arts 
students all striving to one day 
be recognized for a creative 
work. Dreams do not appear 
presumptuous or implausible 
or 
even 
irrational 
when 

encouraged by individuals who 
were once in the same exact 
position of hoping, wishing and 
wanting as a young adult.

Friday 
Night’s 
Alright for 
Reading

Nov. 13 at 
5:30 p.m. 
Benzinger 
Library, East 
Quad

Free Admission

The talent and 
experience of 

RC faculty often 
goes unnoticed.

“I taught them 
to want to write 

poetry.”

