When I talked about making my first 5K run in 18 years or so, I said it was a milestone for me. At first glance, maybe that doesn't make sense if you've been a runner for awhile. Maybe 5K isn't much of a challenge for you; in fact, if you look it up, you'll find that one of the main reasons 5K races are so popular as fund-raisers is that they're considered friendly to "non-runners." But for me, being able to run 5K wasn't the whole story. What mattered more to me was that I was able to run it without a lot of specific training. It was the fact that my general fitness has reached the level where I can go out and run 5K on demand without getting hurt, without getting worn out--literally running that far for fun. Training for life, not for an event:
That's the biggest change in my overall health and fitness goals in the last few years. I am not training for some single event anymore. I don't train to be a better football player, and I don't train to get a BJJ blue belt. I can switch that on temporarily any time I want (currently, I'm still working toward a weight goal that will allow me to go skydiving) but the real purpose is to build a body and mind that can be adapted and pressed into action for whatever athletic goal I come up with next. I looked at the people I truly envied for their athleticism, and what I noticed was that most of them were capable of doing whatever they wanted with their athletic skills. If they wanted to learn jiujitsu, they could start today. If they wanted to go skydiving or climb that tree over there, they didn't have to say, "Wouldn't it be great if I could get in shape to do that?" They were in shape . . . they were ready for their next interest to come along, even though they didn't know what it would be.
I mentioned that my fitness coach is on vacation this week. I'll be back in the gym with him tomorrow morning, first thing, but this week he was out of the office. What was he doing? He sent photos of himself riding a Flyboard in the ocean somewhere. This thing:
That is literally just a board with jets on the bottom to cause you to fly up into the air. Wikipedia says "physical strength is not important to perform the subtle control movements, but balance and coordination are important." Translation: bench presses are not going to get you there without more well-rounded athletic training. And this thing didn't exist before 2011. I couldn't have known about it three years ago, but I also couldn't have ridden it three years ago. Today, I think I could.
What can you do on demand?
So that's where my fitness philosophy is today. Being able to get up in the morning and decide to run 5K on a whim without doing a "Couch to 5K" program or the like, that represents real fitness to me. Fitness, like shooting, is about what I can do on demand. A 5K run is not a high bar for a runner, but today, I can do it when it's time to do it, not "after I lose weight." That's a big first step for me.
I answered a question for myself yesterday. See, I've never been much of a runner. Actually, I've hated running. In high school, I played football, a sport where if I ever had to run 100 yards at once, I'd be on a highlight reel. That was no accident. I did run track for my last two years of high school, but just about by accident. My favorite teacher coached the track team, and he pressured me into throwing shot put and discus by convincing me that all the running the team did would make me a better football player. Back then, I cared a bunch about that for some reason. Probably hormonal.
I never amounted to anything in the shot or the discus, 'cause it turns out those are more about skill than size, and I didn't have any. And of course, in a foot race, I was a 6'1", 260-pound ape, and nobody was worried that I'd catch anyone. But there was a race where I could contribute to a track team: the 3200 Meters, or as we called it, the Two Mile. See, even most of the real runners hated the Two Mile race, and often at a triangular track meet there would only be two or three contestants entered. If I entered, I could place--and earn points for my team--simply by grinding it out and refusing to quit until I finished the race. There was one meet at our home field where I had to move outward on the last straightaway because they'd begun setting out the hurdles for the 110 before I finished my two miles, but I did finish it. I recall running about 10-minute miles and finishing the race in 20 minutes and change most of the time. In those days, two miles just about killed me, and I often wanted to stop before the race was over. Then I went to college, did no distance running for football anymore, quit football and began gaining weight steadily. Of course, I got back into shape quickly when I got married, but having kids was what really pushed me to get jacked . . .
No, wait. That's the opposite of what happened. I ballooned.
Anyway, present-day me has been weighing in at 259-260 again since the weekend, and I've also been thinking lately about trying to run a 5K. I've walked a few, but never really thought of myself as someone who can run a 5K. I wanted to attend one this weekend, but #3 Son has a soccer game at the same time. Still, the idea of running it was intriguing. My fitness work so far has not involved much distance running. I run laps around the gym, but that's not far; Wayne at HIPE is not a fan of long-distance running. Luckily, he's off on vacation somewhere this week, and what he doesn't know won't hurt him. I've also made the Fight for Air Climb three times, climbing the stairs at the Springfield Hilton hotel from the basement to the top floor, but that seemed like it might be too different. Could I run 5K, or about 3.1 miles, without stopping?
I started smaller. On Saturday, I took my car to have the oil changed about a mile from home and ran home. That seemed easy enough, so I waited until it was ready and ran back to pick it up. That made about 2.2 miles, but not all at once. Would I get a surprise if I pushed it further?
On Monday, I got up early and took off before the sun was up. My plan was to try to do two miles without stopping, but it felt good, so I extended my route a little and was well past two miles before I had to turn home to make it to work on time. Unfortunately, I hadn't gotten out of the house as early as I wanted to. I also hadn't paid attention to my feet, so I had the beginning of a nasty blister on one--but in terms of my lungs and heart and limbs, I felt like I could have kept the same pace indefinitely. I felt sure I could go out and do 5K when my feet were ready.
Yesterday, I got up, checked my feet, found them sound, and decided to go for it. It was raining a bit, but warm enough, and it felt great to run. I ended up putting 3.5 miles in without wearing out! I don't know what my time was, but I know I listened to an episode of "Welcome to Night Vale" (The Whispering Forest, to be exact.) I think I did 3.5 miles in less than 30 minutes, which would be a faster pace than I ever ran such a distance back in high school. I don't think that would be completely surprising, because I never really understood anything anyone tried to teach me about running form back then, and I think I run much more efficiently now.
This is a milestone for me, even if it may seem like no big deal to others. I think it's likely that by any objective measure other than maximum bench press, I'm healthier and more athletic now than I was when I graduated from high school. I "worked out" a lot back then, but I didn't know what I was doing. I was constantly injured and had little real core strength or cardiovascular endurance. Moreover, I feel like I'm on my way to lighter and leaner weight and greater and greater strength. I'm pretty confident that 36-year-old me could take 18-year-old me in just about any athletic contest, and I expect 40-year-old me to be capable of smoking 20-year-old me.
Old fitness plan: No sugar, low-carb diet, eat only when hungry, daily walking, HIPE Fitness 3x/week.
New fitness plan: No sugar, low-carb diet, 2,000 kcal/day, eat only when hungry, 10,000 steps/day, HIPE Fitness 3x/week.
If you've followed my fitness posts (hint: you haven't) then you know that I lost a lot of weight about a year ago. I still get asked about it, and I still tell people I've lost about 100 pounds in two years. But that's not the whole story. See, I lost almost a hundred pounds in about 12-14 months, and then I've essentially held my weight steady for about a year (bouncing between 265 and 275, depending on the day.) There was a surgery last fall, followed by a fairly long recovery, and I'm just now getting to the point in time when the doctors told me to expect my abdominal wall to be back at full strength, though I've been able to work out pretty hard since January. Although I've added some muscle, I haven't been losing fat fast enough to affect my weight much for nearly a year now, and it's time to shake things up. My basic strategy for the last couple of years has been to avoid most carbohydrates and strictly swear off sugar, starch, and alcohol--essentially, a low-carb, high-fat diet with lots of meat, cheese, butter, eggs, nuts, and dark/leafy vegetables. I've tried to get most of my carbohydrates from vegetables like broccoli, spinach, peppers, onions, tomatoes and Brussels sprouts. What I haven't done is count calories; the idea was that as long as I kept carbohydrates low, the portions would take care of themselves (some people figure some bodies simply don't stick to "a calorie is a calorie," while others figure you'll sate yourself on a low-carb diet and your portions will come down without conscious effort.) That worked well for awhile, but I've noticed that I've been sneaking some carbohydrates back in. I noticed one day that a serving of peanut butter only had 8 net carbs, so I started having one every once in awhile. That was fine until the day I realized I'd just eaten my fifth serving of peanut butter in one day! I've also noticed lately that my snacking/grazing has become an unconscious habit again, and I'm eating when I'm not hungry. There's no way to overcome that except to stop doing it. So, last week, I launched a new effort. I'm keeping the low-carb diet in place, but going back to basics by cutting out some of the sugary carbs I'd been letting back in (like peanut butter) and deliberately cutting back artificial sweeteners, especially the saccharine I've been dumping into iced tea like it's going out of style. I'm also holding myself to the most basic of all: I will eat when I'm hungry and only when I'm hungry. I'm making one and only one real change to the plan, which is to count calories and hold myself to that target. I'm also trying to keep myself at 10,000 steps per day, and on days when I don't make that goal, I take a quick run around the block to complete it at the end of the night. So far, I've only needed to do that once. Goals: This morning, I weighed 266 pounds. I'd like to weigh less than 250 before Halloween and less than 235 by New Year's Day. On February 8th, I'll run the Fight for Air Climb at the Springfield Hilton for the fourth time (32 floors, basement to rooftop restaurant, taking the stairs.) I intend to do it in less than five minutes' time this time at a bodyweight of less than 230 pounds. Right now, I weigh just about what I did last time, although I'm definitely stronger. I'm excited to see what taking 40 pounds off will do for me.
So, tonight, there are four things I'd like to do (besides go home and fall asleep in a chair.)
HIPE Fitness Level One class at 6:00 . . .
Springfield Tactical Shooters USPSA anytime from 5:00 to 8:00 . . .
Illinois State Museum is hosting a reception for area teachers at 6:00 . . .
Hoogland Center for the Arts is putting on a Casablanca movie night . . . eating Moroccan food and watching Casablanca in one of their theaters.
These are all things I'd like to do, but I'm only one man. I didn't find out about the Casablanca night until this morning, so it was obviously far too late. Married people with children do not go out to movie nights on weekdays on one day's notice. So, that's out.
The museum event happens every year, and every year I talk about how I really should go this year. My wife attended it last year and said it was a lot of fun, but apparently it's one of those wine-and-door-prizes events. Essentially, somebody thinks all school teachers are women (or, possibly, that only the women show up for these reception events . . . might have something there) so they put together an event that caters to a certain stereotype of mature ladies having a wild night on the town. Wine and door prizes.
That leaves the STS USPSA night and HIPE Fitness. This is as much as I can manage in one night, probably. If I'm lucky, I can probably get to the range and get signed up to shoot by 4:30-5:00, especially if I help with setup. Then I can shoot it a couple of times before the biggest crowds come in and be out the door by 5:30. That leaves me enough time to get to the gym and get changed for the 6:00 class if everything works. My wife is going to the museum event, and she arranged babysitting for Number Three Son, so I don't have to rush home.
Ladies at the gym are excitedly picking out their free HIPE t-shirts as Donnie walks out . . . Lady: "Here's white over here!" OtherLady: "I know, but I want a large. I've got . . . uh . . . Lady: "I know you've got those big boobs!" OtherLady: "Aw, man, look what you did to poor Donnie! He's horrified at us!" Donnie: "Oh, no, I know all about living with big boobs. That's how I got into this mess."
It's not a very nice thing to say . . . but it's so true. :)
My Bride is coming over in half an hour, and she's going to take me to R&M Cyclery to look for her new bike. You wanna go ride bikes? We are going to ride bikes!
After bike shopping comes Thai food, followed by a stop at Floyd's Thirst Parlor for an end-of-year celebration with her colleagues.
This is not going to be a long piece. I had not planned on writing anything in particular for Memorial Day; I was just going to do my thing and let the blogging sit. But I went to the gym today, since I had the chance to go to the more-intense Level 2 class in the morning. And it was intense; Wayne of HIPE only did one class today, and he made it count. I soaked through everything I wore, I hurt and I faltered a couple of times, and I snarled and panted and made "WHOOO!" noises, because I am that guy.
Yeah, that guy.
And as I'm struggling and grunting and there's sweat and snot and whatnot, Wayne is calling people out, correcting form, encouraging, calling for people to motivate. And I pass through that point where it feels like it's too hard and you're not going to be able to do it. I reach that point where it feels good to fight it. The fatigue starts to feel good. The fight feels like it's right, like this is where I should be and what I should be doing. It doesn't matter that it hurts. Hurting is part of this thing that I'm doing to myself for myself, and hurting belongs to this time as much as I do. Hurting is OK. Discomfort is OK. It's OK to be panting, to be snorting, to stumble a little bit. It's OK. Everything is OK, because I'm alive. It's a great day to be alive. Everything about being alive feels good, including this pain in this moment. The pain won't last forever, it's just one more piece of a day. Memorial Day.
The day when I acknowledge how good it is to be alive. When I examine what I love about life. When I think about people who gave their lives or had them taken because my nation asked them to risk their lives to enforce the decisions of a government we elected. Memorial Day is the day when people who have another day of life to live spare some time to think about people who don't, and acknowledge that, no matter how small an individual citizen's share may be, each of us owes that debt.
So, here we are on Memorial Day. I'll make the most of it.
In which Yossarian discovers that you can't buy your life insurance cheap if you're Morbidly Obese, because people who are Morbidly Obese are at risk of dying of their obesity (that's what the "morbid" part is about, it turns out.) And yet, if you decide that you do not want to be Morbidly Obese anymore because sunsets are beautiful and your children are adorable, you also cannot buy your life insurance cheap if you have lost too much weight in the previous six months.
One could suppose that Morbid Obesity is a sign of insanity, while movement toward Mere Obesity is a sign of sanity . . . the very thing Catch 22 is designed to punish. However, it's probably a simpler mathematical explanation at work: Morbid Obesity is one sign of impending (sweaty, wheezing) death. However, rapid weight loss is another sign of impending death, possibly from (whispering) The Cancer or very possibly (again whispering) The AIDS. Sigh. It is to wait.
By the time you read this (if anyone does) I'll be peeing and bleeding for half-million-dollar stakes. Sounds kind of exciting, doesn't it? And also gross? Well, it's not very exciting by normal standards; I'm just taking a physical so I can buy term life insurance, because I am a wild thing. Exciting for me, though, 'cause a year ago I was too fat to buy term life insurance. That might seem like I'm exaggerating, but I applied through a broker and was told that because of my high BMI measurement, no company they contacted was interested in offering me life insurance. I knew I was in a bad way, of course (my BMI would have been 47.5 at that time, if that means anything to you.) But I had hoped that being alcohol-free, tobacco-free, with no personal history of diabetes, heart trouble, or other disease would count in my favor. It probably did, but it didn't erase the marker with "180 pounds over healthy BMI range" written on it. Recently, though, I met with some financial advisors to get my retirement accounts squared away.* I mentioned that I'd like to start looking for term life insurance, too, and they were eager to sell me some. Both were shocked to hear that I'd been turned away over weight, but then, neither has seen the photos from before I made my magical transformation from Morbidly Obese to Merely Obese (I've lost over 100 pounds, but my BMI is still about 35. I have to bring that down to 29.5, losing another 55 pounds or so, before I can claim the coveted title of "Overweight." They've basically made their offer; I think at this point I'm down to checking for undetected dry rot and termite damage before they place their bet on my survival. Anyway, long story short, when I realized that I'd allowed myself to get so fat that nobody was willing to make a bet that I wouldn't die in the next twenty years, it was one of those sobering moments you hear people whine about. I didn't like it. This is boring, white-bread, First-World stuff, but it's a whole lot better feeling. If you can't leave a pretty corpse, leave a rich widow, I always say. *No, I don't trust the Illinois Teacher Retirement System. Didja know they have two of those? Yeah, the Chicago teachers have their own separate system. Whatever your feelings about public pensions, the hard fact is that Illinois government does not pay its share and hasn't for years, so while we continue to pay into the pension fund, each new generation of teachers has less and less reason to expect to be paid a pension from it. I intend to plan retirement such that I can do it from my own investments; if we get pensions, it'll be like somebody's rich aunt died and we'll perform the indicated response. What do you think a boat will cost in 2053?
So . . . how've you been since March? Good? Probably good. You're not even reading this, are you? You've stopped checking for updates, just because I stopped posting content, right?
Quitter. You are a quitter. Now let's talk about me.
The Good News:
The last time I wrote about my life, I was trying, not for the first time, to lose a lot of weight and get fit. There's good news and bad news on that score today. First, the good news: I've now lost over 100 pounds. I'm stronger than I've been in a long time, maybe ever, depending on how you measure it. I'm capable of balance and grace that I really thought were impossible for me. My blood pressure is around 120/80 most days, which is the upper end of normal, but normal. My resting heart rate is consistently between 50 and 60 BPM, which is lower than normal but consistent with hard cardiovascular training ( recently had my vitals taken regularly over a period of several days--more about that in a moment.
The Bad News:
The reason I had my vitals taken so regularly was that I had a small problem that had to be repaired with emergency surgery, followed by a short hospital stay. Years ago, when I was at my very most morbidly obese bodily volume, I had mysterious abdominal pain and a mysterious lump above my navel. One doctor diagnosed this as lipoma, a small fatty bump that forms under the skin on some people, but that's generally painless, and this was painful enough to cause nausea. Other doctors diagnosed a hernia with fatty tissue (morbid obesity, remember?) becoming "incarcerated" and "strangulated" when it poked through. I had surgery to repair it early in the summer, reasoning that I would have time to recover before school began. I took the few weeks before surgery as a time to diet and exercise (with no coaching or guidance, of course.) On the morning of the surgery, I weighed 396 pounds in a hospital gown. I can't prove it, but I'll always be convinced that I once weighed over 400 pounds. The surgery was an apparent success, but recovery was tough. The standard advice is not to lift anything over 10 lbs. in weight for six weeks after hernia repair, and to avoid bearing down with the abdominal muscles. There is no way to follow that advice without a powered lifting chair or bed when you weigh 400 lbs., so I did my best but screwed up repeatedly. Still, I thought I'd recovered, and although I wasn't certain the hernia was gone, I told myself that I would exercise like a madman and lose the weight ASAP. I'd get down to 300 lbs., maybe even a little lower! I began exercising again about two months after the surgery, and for some reason that now eludes me, I decided that I would begin by running on the bleachers at my school. No, I can't think of any reason for a 400-lb. man to do that, either, but it turns out I didn't hurt myself doing it, because before I'd been doing it a week, an infection at the surgery site broke loose and I spent another week in the hospital, followed by a month at home giving myself anti-biotics through a PIC line (basically a fairly permanent IV line the patient can use to administer IV drugs at home.) When I'd recovered from that, I went back to have the hernia repair repaired. I was told that the last surgeon had tried a newfangled technique, but this guy was going to do something brutally simple, just sew a big mesh patch in place. That would leave a big scar and the incision would hurt more as I recovered, but it would be strong like bull and I'd never see that hernia again. That sounded perfect to me. And I'd lost a little weight by that time, down to . . . about 350, I think? Not enough, certainly. Again, I did my best, but getting out of a chair or off a bed was a major effort, and I couldn't afford to be bedridden. I don't know whether I messed up, or they did, but it was clear almost immediately that the hernia was still there. I went back to my doctor, who told me that if I could "reduce" the lump--squeeze it down until it went back inside, basically--I could put off attempting the repair again for a long time, maybe forever. I never intended to wait forever, but I did think I'd wait until I got into better shape. Along the way, I lost and gained weight like a yo-yo; I went as low as 290 pounds, but I gained again until I was over 330 pounds. Then, desperate, I joined Overeaters Anonymous, which turned out to be a bad move; I ballooned to 370 pounds before I gave up on that one. Last year, after I left OA, I decided that I would go back to the only "diet" that had ever worked--low carb--and find a trainer to guide my exercise program. It worked. I got lucky with my trainer, Wayne Carrels of HIPE Fitness, and I made rapid progress. This summer, I plateaued around 280 pounds, but I could tell I was losing fat and adding muscle. I considered going back to schedule a hernia repair, but by that time, I'd been living with it for years, and I was confident that I'd be much lighter and stronger next summer. That seemed smart until last Tuesday, when I found myself in nasty pain from warming up, then reached the point of dizziness a few minutes into a light workout. I left the class and tried to reduce the hernia, tried to rest, tried to throw up. Nothing helped much, and I allowed a friend to drive me to an Express Care (I still thought I'd end up reducing the hernia and breathe a sigh of relief.) By the time we got there, I was fading in and out, pouring sweat, and apparently quite pale. I was just trying to breathe slowly through the gut-twisting pain, but I heard people saying "BP 85 over 55" and "get two IV's, 18 gauge on both" and "America says the ambulance is a few minutes out." It began to occur to me that I was in real trouble. Long story short, nobody was able to reduce the stupid thing, and I had emergency surgery to remove 15cm of bowel and repair the hernia at 3:00 a.m. It was the first day of school for my students. I was not there.
The Silver Linings:
So here we are. The hernia repair isn't the strongest; they couldn't use mesh because it raises the risk of infection (don't I know it?) and the bowel surgery is already an infection risk. There's a possibility that I'll have to have the repair re-done yet again if it doesn't hold. That means I've got to handle this recovery as well as I can. But there are some bright spots here, mostly because my fitness level has changed so much:
I weighed 268 lbs. yesterday. That means I'm about 125 lbs. lighter than I was the first time I tried to recover from hernia surgery, and although this procedure was a lot more disruptive than that one was, the recovery has been a lot easier so far.
I was up and walking much faster this time, out of bed the day after surgery and walking two days after.
I have some pain, but I haven't had to use any of the Tramadol they sent home with me. I don't get much more than a dull ache with the occasional sharp jab, and I'm afraid to dull it too much, lest I cause some damage without realizing it. I'll use it if I find that I need it, but I think the recovery is better without it.
I can't go back to the gym until at least October, and I won't be able to work at the level I was before for at least six months, maybe more like a year. But I've kept my diet clean since leaving the hospital and begun to take long walks again. Walking won't build muscle like the Turkish get-ups and pullups at HIPE, but it'll strengthen the injured area without causing damage, and it should let me continue to lose fat.
I didn't die, and I don't have to accept any permanent loss of function. All I have to do is be smart and a little lucky while I recover, and I can still reach all the goals I had before. It's just going to take longer than I'd hoped.
When I left off, I'd described losing about 75 pounds in the last eight months. Clearly I'm bragging a little bit; I'm proud of that change. I'm enjoying my new clothes and some other benefits, which I'll detail in another post a little later on. But I've lost more weight than that in past, and here I am losing it again. I don't want to be on an up-and-down cycle for the rest of my life. But how do you avoid that? Here's how I'm trying to do it this time:
How do you define "fitness?"
I'm going to use this particular disclaimer five times in this post: everything I'm about to say is true for me as far as I know, but I don't know anything about whether it will work for you.
That said, I've had to give up on defining fitness solely in terms of weight or strength. My approach for the last year has been to define "fitness" as the ability to do what I want to do with my mind and body.
Using that definition, if I want to go skydiving, but I weigh too much to do it safely, I need to lose weight in order to be more fit. In fact, if you look at the ticker on the left, you'll see a countdown to 275 pounds. The reason for that is not that 275 pounds is an ideal weight; it's the maximum weight for the Grafton Zip Line, and I want to go ride the zip lines high in the air. I weighed 297 pounds this morning, so I'm not fit for that activity . . . yet. Similarly, I want to go skydiving, but the nearest schools allow a maximum weight of 225 pounds, so I'm not fit for that activity yet, either.
It won't end there, though. If I get a chance to go out west and hunt elk in the mountains, would I go? Only if I'm fit enough to walk those mountains. What if my kids move out and I want a Corvette . . . or a Miata? Gotta be able to fit. What if I find some spare time and decide I should go back into BJJ or Judo? Well, last time I tried that, I was 30 pounds heavier than I am now, and I wasn't fit enough to learn much in the course of a typical BJJ class--I was just proud to survive it. But if I go back, I'll want more than lighter weight--I'll want a strong core, good balance and the ability to move my body gymnastically. That means that those athletic abilities have to go into my definition of fitness, too.
Now, if you want to win a state or national powerlifting title, or you want to run three marathons per year, your fitness needs differ markedly from mine. But most of us have some fitness ideas in common. We don't want to have open-heart surgery, so we want good cardiovascular fitness, yes? We don't want diabetes, so we need to maintain reasonable bodyfat levels. We want to be that old man who walks everywhere and tries new things, not the old man who can't lift himself out of a chair, so we all need core strength.
Right?
How do you avoid complacency?
If you haven't fought serious obesity, it might sound crazy to think of someone who weighs "less than 300 pounds" checking himself out in the mirror and thinking, "Oh, yeah . . . .close enough for the girls I hang out with." But I've gone as high as a measured 396 pounds, and I assure you, the difference is amazing even now. At that weight, joint pain is constant and normal, moving athletically is nearly impossible unless you're freakishly strong, and your heart is working overtime. By contrast, at my current weight, I feel relatively light and fast, and my joint pain is so much less that I could be tempted to "lighten up" a little and stop working so hard. That's what I've done in the past, and it has always led me to let my weight creep right back up.
The main thing I'm working on is to set tougher goals and set them publicly. Everyone I know, for instance, knows that I want to go skydiving next fall. I can miss that goal, but I can't abandon it without knowing that everyone, especially me, will know that I fell short. In the past, I've set goals based purely on weight, and I've moderated them with statements like "Well, even if I never get past 290, I've come a long way!" That's true, but it misses the point. In order to avoid complacency, then, there may be no way around periodically re-calibrating your expectations--or maybe it's more accurate to say that you have to recognize that your old expectations are not going to be useful if you're making progress. If you think 300 would be great, 275 would be wonderful, and 250 would be pushing it because maybe you don't want to work quite that hard, and moderation in all things after all, and . . . well, then, you aren't going to get to jump out of that plane, are you? Ever.
What kind of diet makes sense?
A loaded question with a million answers. But there's a reason I put it before the discussion of exercise; most of us rely on exercise to get into shape, but most of us know that diet is actually doing a lot more to determine our fitness. Exercise can't do the job of diet; it just can't. Diet is what you're made of. So what am I made of these days?
Mostly protein and fats. I've given up sugar and starch, so that leaves out sweets, breads, fruit and most vegetables. Some will say that it's impossible to get fit on a diet of meat, nuts, roughage, cheese, and only limited vegetables, and speaking for themselves, they could be right. But what I've found for myself is that when I give up most carbohydrates, I stop craving them. When I eat sugar, I crave sugar so strongly that I once sought addiction treatment for compulsive binge-eating. Same thing for starches, especially breads. There's no moderation there for me.
So now my diet is mostly eggs, chicken, beef, venison, fish, broccoli, cauliflower, peppers, almonds, pecans, and various salads. That lets me eat to fullness, get plenty of protein and fats, but cut out the carbohydrates.
What kind of exercise makes sense?
Again, I'm speaking only of myself here, but I have a long history of injuries and ineffective exercise, mostly weight lifting, traditional American football drills and practice, attempts at martial arts, cycling, and the standard "gym cardio" on an elliptical trainer. Playing football works--kind of--in that you'll usually get stronger and more agile, but at the price of injuries and taking a general beating. Cycling and the elliptical trainer both had the same basic problem--I was trying to outrun my diet by putting in long bouts of cardiovascular training. Remember the part above where that doesn't work? Right.
Today, I walk daily. Walking always seemed too tame to be doing much, on a par with bowling for exercise. But the truth is that walking works.
I also work on my core daily, if only by blowing bubbles in my "belly bucket." Not sure what that is? That's OK; we'll cover it one of these days.
But the thing that has really made the big difference has been to join HIPE Fitness in Springfield, IL, and work out with Wayne Carrels. Joining Wayne's group fitness classes has given me a coach who pushes me past levels of fatigue that I would have accepted as my limits if I'd been on my own. That can put people off, because it sounds like having a drill sergeant barking at you for three hours per week, but Wayne is a professional trainer who's also looking out for my safety. My body is a map of old injuries (knees, ankles, hips, shoulders, neck, and a hernia) and in fact, I was recovering from my latest nasty knee injury when I joined HIPE. I have not had another injury. We're constantly told that we have to make diet and exercise a lifestyle, but when you're working on your own and struggling from injury to injury, that's not possible. Wayne has made it possible for me. He's also influenced my idea of safe, effective exercise by teaching me about what trainers call the "Four Pillars of Movement:"
I think I've figured out how to measure when I'm back to regular writing: when I stop apologizing for my output at the beginning of each post, it probably means I feel like I'm back. So . . . . I apologize for my output, or lack thereof. I do have things to write about; what I don't have is the extra time and energy. I'd like to write about at least ten things in my life right now, but I've let them pile up so much that I'm not sure where to start. Luckily, I know how to proceed when I have a big pile of projects and don't know where to start: just wade in and grab something that looks important or interesting.
So today I want to update both my readers on my fight to get fit and talk a little about what has paid off for me and what hasn't. Obviously nothing I say here is guaranteed to work for you the way it worked for me, but after all, it did work for me.
Got any data?
I'm glad you asked, subheading. On July 1st, 2012, I weighed 369.5 pounds. I was wearing size 4XL shirts and pants with 48-and-50-inch waists (the 48s had gotten awful tight, but I could wear them.) I had a nagging injury to my left knee that was driving me crazy, and my right knee wasn't exactly reliable. My right hip wasn't great, either, and neither were either of my shoulders. I was a wreck. Despite my joint injuries and weight, I'd been "working out" at my local 24-hour gym for about two years, mostly by spending 30-60 minutes on elliptical trainers four times per week. Last February, I decided to see whether I could finish the "Fight for Air Climb," a race up 32 flights of stairs to the top of our tallest local building. I was able to finish by taking numerous breaks for rest and water; it took me 10 minutes and 53 seconds. There were people who did it more slowly, but not many.
Today, I weigh 297 pounds. I wear size 2XL shirts and recently bought a pair of pants in a 44-inch waist, which are big enough that I've just ordered a size 42 in the same pants to see how they fit. Yesterday, I went shopping for a size 2XL coat, but found that the best fit was an XL. I can literally button up my old jacket and wear it over my new coat. My knees still aren't perfect, but I no longer need to wear a knee brace. My workouts are now balanced between three sessions per week at HIPE Fitness under the watchful eye of Wayne Carrels and calisthenics, yoga, stretching and cardio training at home daily. This year, I decided to try the Fight for Air Climb again. I set a personal goal: I would try to make the climb without stopping and try to beat 10 minutes flat. I did climb without stopping, and I finished in 6:07, which put me just barely in the top 50% of finishers.
Complacency, or: "No, man, you did it. If you don't lose one more pound, you look perfect. You did it."
I'm glad you asked that, too. See, I've lost weight before. I've been determined to get fit before, too. I've never made it last, and I have to wonder why. I think the greatest danger is complacency. I'm used to thinking of myself as an enormously fat man. In fact, I'm accustomed to morbid obesity. In my old body, simply finishing a long stair climb or a long cycling event was a "moral victory." No, I wasn't competitive nor really even fit enough to enjoy myself, but I could claim bragging rights just by finishing. The last time I was close to this weight was over five years ago, and then as now, I had allowed my weight to balloon up and then made a determined dash to lose it. I lost about 100 pounds in about a year, but a few years later I'd gained at least 80 of it back. Why? Well, looking back, I remember thinking it was time to ease up and "enjoy life" a little. Time to have a couple of Oreos every now and then. Time to give up that crazy fad low-carb diet and go back to a sensible, balanced diet with fruit and bread and such, especially now that I'd lost so much weight that cycling was easier. I'd lose the rest by becoming a cycling madman.
Of course, I didn't. I left the lifestyle that was working for me, and I let sugar and starch back into my diet. That led to cravings for more, and I gave in. Eventually I was bingeing on cookies, cake, pie, ice cream . . . then baking bread at home and eating entire loaves, piece by piece. But why would anyone do that? I think it was more than a failure of will. I think I decided at some point that I'd gone as far as I could reasonably be expected to go. I'd done so well! When I reached 290 pounds, I'd won another one of those "moral victories." And, as I had during my entire sprint to lose weight, I gave myself the foods that had ruined my health as rewards when I felt that I'd done enough to save my health. Hit a weight loss goal? That calls for a cheat meal at the pizza place! Finish a metric century ride (100km/43miles)? CAKE!
That quote up there in the subheading is real. A coworker said it to me at lunch on Friday with the absolute best of intentions. He wanted to encourage me and support me, but he made me think. I don't want the feeling that I've done enough, that 297 pounds--just this side of morbid obesity--is "pretty good" or "good enough" for me. I want to feel like I can do better. After all, at 297 pounds I still can't go skydiving. I still can't ride the Grafton Ziplines. I still can't buy term life insurance--at ANY price--despite my non-smoking, non-drinking, perfect health bona fides. I can finish a competitive stair climb, but I can't be competitive. I do finally come in under the advertised maximum weight limits for my attic ladder and the safety harness for my deer stand, so I've got that going for me, but somehow it's not enough. And why should it be enough? Why shouldn't I decide that now I can be a 200-pound athlete who's capable of learning any sport or hobby I choose whenever I choose?
So, today, I'm on guard against complacency. It's all around me, and it's always hungry. My relatives are proud of me and they want to support me, but they want to talk about how great the progress is. To them, it would be rude to talk about how far I still have to go. Working out with very fit people at HIPE helps me with that. They compliment me on my progress, but I see them enjoying life in ways that I still can't. They have something I want. My eventual goal is to end up lighter than 220 pounds so that I can make my first skydive; it occurs to me sometimes that many of the people around me in the gym could simply decide today, on a whim, that they'd like to try skydiving, call around, and be in a plane tomorrow working up the nerve. The real difference in fitness between them and me isn't how they look, it's the fact that their bodies don't hold them back. If there's something they want to do, but it calls for strength, agility, balance, flexibility and stability . . . they just go out and do it. That's what I want. I want to be fit enough to be up for anything and ready to try the next adventure.
I didn't lose a .22, I lost 22. Pounds. In a little over a month.
And while I was smugly congratulating myself, JR from A Keyboard and a .45 was realizing that he's reached his weight-loss goal on his "Take Shape for Life" program. Check this out:I'm not ready to pay someone to help me lose weight (though I do use SlimFast shakes to fill in here and there.) At my current level of obesity, it's not hard to take the weight off. I eat 2000 calories or fewer per day and I walk or bike daily if I can. I also do pushups and bodyweight squats in the mornings. As I get lower on the scale, it'll get harder and harder, and if I really plateau at some point, I may decide to try the stuff JR used. It's hard to argue with his results.
In case anybody other than my wife cares, I'm down almost 10 pounds from my Blackwater weight. I don't look any different yet, but there's a certain pleasant smugness.
