The 6 Stages of Thanksgiving: Race, Stuffage, Shock, Acceptance/Nap, Take-Out, Heave Ho

By now, the Stages of Thanksgiving should not be a surprise.  After all, we’ve been through the holiday before.  But lest you feel alone in your befuddlement, your sense of what-just-hit-me?, let me let me elucidate a little cycle that’s just played out in our home and share a spark of hope.

Manchester Road Race, 2012, pre-race line up

1. Race

The Race stage includes anything you did to show up where you belonged, whole and alive: plane travel, roadtrip, and pull-out couch included.  You made it!  Yay!

My family has started a Thanksgiving tradition of joining in the Manchester Road Race, which involves 4.7 miles of running and walking with 15,000+ people while 30,000+ spectators cheer us on from the sidelines.  I’d be hard pressed to tell you the difference between the racers and the spectators.  We come in all shapes, sizes, ages and abilities, and what’s great is that the event is a celebration of the regular, unsung person.  Sure there’s a winner.  But 15,000 of us trot ourselves out there, and the overriding sentiment is pure, joyful thankfulness.  We have health, we’re together, we’re American. We win just because we show up.  We’re alive.

2. Stuffage

We eat, do we not?  Our particular turkey was smoked for eight hours over cherry wood in a red smoker from Home Depot, and it was super good.  Accompanying mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, rolls, green beans, and Brussels sprouts were followed by apple crisp and pumpkin pie.  It’s a kind of patriotic duty to over-eat, with second and third helpings for everyone, and still have leftovers to cram in the fridge.

3. Shock

Oh, my God.  I just ate five plates of turkey and an entire pie myself.  My belly is huge.  And I’m so sore from running that I can’t get off the couch.

4. Acceptance/Nap

Others are out there shopping, but I will never be able to walk again because my sore legs are now even worse.  Plus, I’m so full of food I’ve gained five pounds.  I have destroyed my body.  I have commenced a new life where I can no longer exercise and my fridge is full of delicious leftovers.  This is doom.  Oh, look: the houseguests have produced a box of chocolates.  I must accept my new life as a slug and take a nap.

5. Take-out

By Day 4, our leftovers are gone, and we’re deciding between pizza and wings for take-out because nobody can stand the idea of more cooking or dishes.  Oh, the irony when pizza and wings look like light fare.  On the upside, I’m no longer popping ibuprofen for leg pain.

6. Heave Ho

How can I possibly have dishes to do after take-out?  Monday looms, and I’m allowed one last moan as I heave myself up.  I can do this.  I do not need some crazy diet.  I need to eat healthy foods and move a little more.  That old moderation.  Somehow, I shall rediscover the thankfulness I felt in Stage 1.  After all, the holiday season is just beginning.