Ambling up Sleeping Giant on a recent Sunday morning, I found myself contemplating the caloric intake of eating out. The question I was wrestling with in my mind centered around whether restaurants should list the nutritional data for each dish
Ambling up Sleeping Giant on a recent Sunday morning, I found myself contemplating the caloric intake of eating out.
The question I was wrestling with in my mind centered around whether restaurants should list the nutritional data for each dish on the menu.
I paused at one of my favorite parts of the trail to take in a view of an isolated tree in a field on the other side of Wailua River. The clouds parted just enough to let a circle of sunshine illuminate the scenery.
But this image was trumped by my mental picture of the smorgasbord on my plate the last time we hit up Mediterranean Gourmet: spinach fatayers (fried), spanikopita (Phyllo filled with cheese), falafel (fried), and on down the list.
Pressing on down the path, I concluded that a certain degree of ignorance may indeed be bliss when it comes to knowing the health facts of meals out.
I may not be a dietitian, but I can certainly recognize when something is bad for me. And while I try to nourish my body with good stuff at home, sometimes half the fun of eating out on occasion is breaking your own rules.
With few places serving up healthy — and tasty — dishes, I’m not sure I want to know. I may never eat out again, and I’d be missing out on making some really special memories.
Or maybe I’m just trying to justify the decision so I can fling off some of the guilt that was literally sitting in my stomach during the hike.
With a proven track record, I’ll just stick to my creed of work hard, play hard. Want a weekend getaway on O‘ahu? Put in the extra hours, slash frivolous expenses and save up for it. Want to order whatever you like off the menu? Put in the extra time burning those calories off on a walk or a swim.
Feeling pretty good about my little mental resolution, I picked up the pace the rest of the way back to the parking lot. That was until I remembered all the cheese fondue and wine we savored the night after our North Shore date.
I thought about stopping right there and hitting up some sit-ups in the dirt, but decided instead to just set the alarm clock a bit earlier and get to the gym.
Work hard, play hard.
