Recently, I have come to terms with one thing: My teammates and I love food. Usually I chalk this up to playing an intense sport, one that involves a lot of banging into each other as hard as we possibly can for two to three hours a day, running until we feel light headed (then continuing to run) and shooting the same shot until our arms feel like rubber. During preseason conditioning we do not consider a workout complete until we reach the point of no return. This point can be described as the moment when you consider at just what angle you would have to throw yourself across the court to make it seem as if you were collapsing from exhaustion mid-sprint. Yes, I attribute our enormous appetites to these types of workouts.
During our most recent road trip, on our way to play Maryland, I realized how food-obsessed some of us - mostly me - are. We got on the road around 2 p.m. Saturday afternoon, with our chosen orders from Panera Bread awaiting us on our bus seats. I dined on a parfait, a small salad and half of a chicken sandwich. Sounds like a normal meal, right? I washed this down with a protein shake and attempted to do homework. But mostly I just took a nap.
After our two-hour or so drive to College Park, Md., we seated ourselves at Benihana. Benihana, for those who may not know, is a hibachi restaurant, one where chefs fry copious amounts of meat, vegetables and rice on the hot grill in front of your eyes. At hibachi restaurants, every meal consists of several courses. It begins with soup and a salad, at which point the chef enters and fries up said rice, vegetables and your choice of meat. Another complete meal, one would think. We left Benihana holding our stomachs and moaning we would never eat again.
We bring a bag of snacks for all of our road trips. Recently we have diverged from my preferred treat, Dora the Explorer fruit snacks, to "healthier options." Trail mix and pretzels are now the snacks of choice. Personally, I think Dora and her friends give me the right combination of childlike delight and vitamin C to play an excellently energized game. My opinion counts for little, however, and the trail mix remains. It is likely that everyone will make a trip to the snack bag at least once before we get off the bus, and during trips where we fly, people often complain when the snack bag can't be brought into the cabin with us. After Benihana, I will confess I went into the snack bag seeking dessert. I mean, picking all the M&Ms out of trail mix is as close as you can get sometimes.
The following morning we awoke early for a walkthrough before the game. Usually we eat breakfast at the hotel and have an intense shoot-around at the opponent's gym. Then we return to the hotel and eat our pregame meal. Our schedule this trip was different, with no hotel breakfast, and grumbles could be heard from mouths and bellies as we walked through the other team's plays in an attempt to prepare. Though barely breaking a sweat, I felt as if I could not function without eating breakfast. I was so cranky during this 15-minute walkthrough period that beforehand I attempted to take a bite of my teammate's arm. She did not taste like chicken, nor was she happy with me.
After these few painstaking minutes, we made our way to the pregame meal, where I gorged myself on pasta, chicken, vegetables and fruit. After another two hour break, it was back to the bus to drive to the game. I shamelessly admit I reached into the snack bag one more time, grabbing a bag of trail mix and a protein bar. Then it was game time.
I have been pondering my eating habits the past few days, and am thinking that I am perhaps edging toward gluttony. This is a quality that is neither attractive nor considerate. But I am also an athlete. Foggy memories of distant high school days from one-and-a-half years ago when I attempted to follow a diet plan in Seventeen Magazine are coming back in full force. Eating half of a PB&J and a yogurt for lunch left me trembling in practice and shooting airballs. My coach was unhappy, and I promptly tossed that issue of the magazine. I suppose there is a delicate balance in the madness of my eating habits. One bag of trail mix or two less probably wouldn't hurt, though.
Simone's column runs biweekly Thursdays. She can be reach at s.egwu@cavalierdaily.com.
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