Keep track they said, it will motivate you they said...

Ramblings Post #282

You are what you eat. Which means at one point my entire body was made up of pizza, wings, hoagies and beer. Ah college. But my body really needs to be made of leafy green veggies, baked or grilled meats in sparing quantity, and lots of water. It is in fact made of veggie fried rice, chocolate, coffee and crystal light. It’s like I can’t make up my dietary mind. At least I really enjoyed the wings and beer.

Krispy Kreme. Now I want a box. Hmmmm.

One of the grand problems of tracking your food intake is that you actually see what you eat. It’s easy to forget those mini-Milky Ways and Oreo six pack on a normal day, but if you have to write it all down?  Ugh. The whole exercise is more disheartening than you might imagine, unless you’re a health nut.

I didn’t used to drink this much coffee. I never got into the coffee craze and really only went to Starbucks just to get out of the house during my “Introspective Period,” as I’m going to refer to it, so looking at my intake notes the amount of coffee I’m drinking is ridiculous. Maybe it’s because it’s free, maybe it’s because I put in enough sugar to power an elementary school for five years, or maybe because it’s free. Did I say that already? Someone remind me to look up caffeine poisoning.

I do drink a lot of water, which is good. And I eat a lot less salad than I thought, which is bad. I used to go through bags of salad like clockwork, but as of late I might eat one or two salads a week. My baked chicken consumption is down as well. And my broccoli. Actually, all my vegetable consumption is down. Note, that when I say down, I mean down from where I thought it might be, in that I hadn’t kept track in a while. It’s the old I was millionaire until I counted my money type thing.  Makes you want to stop counting. On the other hand, up until last weekend I was controlling the snacks pretty well. Damn you Dig'em! 

All this tracking my food intake is as part of a group of my friends that is working to better their health. And by better their health I mean they're making it competitive and buying every gadget under the sun to prove they are in shape. And I'd like to be a part, well, a more participatory part, but I'm not signing up for one more app, not buying any more equipment and I'll be damned if I'm gonna participate in Meatless anything. That's how they get you! Damned vegans. First it's just a Monday for a while, then why not every Monday, and before you know it, BAM, you're eating tofu bacon and kale for breakfast and you're hooked on potato shakes. Nope, not me. I'll do the 10k steps a day, the workout and less sodium, keep my calorie count in limits and the exercises, but don't mess with my bacon. 

And yes, it's on my food tracker. Less calories than you think too. 

Barkeep, let me get a vodka and tonic. What? Vodka has like no calories or something. 

Going Back to My Grind

Ramblings Post #150
One day you get up, hit the alarm, snooze for a while, hit the alarm again, snooze, look over at the clock and try to figure how it got so late because you set the alarm for like 20 minutes before now, go to the bathroom look in the mirror and try to figure out who that person is staring back at you. He's heavier than you remember, and he's never looked that old or that tired. And that's the day you change. Well, not really that day, but like sometime that week...or later that month. And that for me was like last Tuesday...or Wednesday. Look it happened so, whatever.

Riley Freeman (Boondocks). Working the Grind.

On this coming Monday, I'm going back to where I was last year. I'm going back to my diet. Strong.

Since last late last fall, I've been in semi-regular mode for my diet. I still do parts of it because I like it - I eat a lot more fruit than I used to before this dietary change, cut back on the red meat to maybe twice a week, a lot less sugar, salads every day, etc. But I've indulged. Cake and pie from time to time. Fried chicken dinners. Sausage and Pepperoni pizza. A big bowl of cereal. Fries. And it's getting more frequent.

And remarkably, my size has not just ballooned back up. I'm a little bigger than I was at the bottom when I was in the 250 range, but I'm still on the downsize belt, the one I bought when pants started falling off. And I like them Oak Hill shirts I bought, so I gotta do something. I fully expected to wake up one morning having wiped away all the weight loss. I'd emerge from a fitful slumber and look down to find my frame grossly bloated from late night binges of Waffle House, Mayfield Ice Cream and Chinese food.

So it's not the end. I haven't regressed too far.

But, I now feel fat.

They tricked me. I looked in the mirror the other day and although I didn't look much different than I did the week before I noticed my cheeks were a little fuller, my stomach a touch softer. Not that I had gotten to a six pack the first time (way too much work in maintenance), but I was close. A stone's throw away. In the neighborhood. Not that damn far. Anyway...it looked, well, puffy. And i don't know why. Okay, I know why. Humor me. Them brownies from Boston Market? They the bizness.

But in any case, I'm going back in. The days were simpler, no figuring out what was for lunch, I knew I was headed to Subway. I knew pretty much what breakfast was. Dinner wasn't where I was going, but what I was making. I've been using the rationale that no AC means not turning on the stove, but that's just a cop out.

So, as the young boys say...back to the grind.

Hey, at least this time I'm starting a lot farther along. Six pack? Um...let's not get crazy.

Yes, Barkeep, I'm starting AFTER my birthday. Damn. Like what?

Saturday night at Regionals

Ramblings Post #179
Things change. People change. It's part of the circle of life and what makes us grow stronger and get better. I've changed. I once told Sporty that in essence, we're not the same person when we go to bed at night as we were when woke up that morning. We're always becoming someone else, and that's who we are. That said, when we stop changing - except when forced - is when we get old. And I'm not getting old any time soon.

So Saturday night, I go to Schmoopy's "thing" to support.

For the last six months or so, she's been on a health kick that makes my weight loss deal look like I've been eating brownies for breakfast and taking pizza through an Iv. Where as I get grapes, wheat toast and one scrambled egg for breakfast, she got a single small bowl of oatmeal and an hour of cardio.

She went hard core.

Which is how I ended up at the Georgia International Convention Center for the Atlantic Bodybuilding Regional show. Tickets were $35. I told Schmoopy that I really must like her to spending this kinda loot. But I do really like her, so I went on and ponied up the cash.

When ESPN was down at the bottom of its programming barrel a few years back, I would occasionally flip past a bodybuilding show, so I had some idea of what it was. And since the fitness model swimsuit issue was, at least to me way better than the SI swimsuit issue, I had at one time owned at least an issue or two of a body building magazine. Ages ago I might have even read one back when I was in shape. Way back, in the long, long ago.

So I show up, and it's now quite what I expected. Well, to be realistic, I wasn't sure what too expect, so anything that happened would have been unexpected. Part of my confusion came because I found out later that the most of the actual judging had actually happened that morning at 10am, when I was in class and which required a separate ticket. So, initially when the guys came out, posed for 90 seconds to some music and trophies were briskly awarded, I wasn't sure what was going on. The stunning woman sitting in front of me filled me in on that part.

To be honest most interesting part of the show, however....was the crowd. I sat in the back so I could watch most of them come in. The room was a mix of other bodybuilders, family, friends, friends who were also body builders, the large black guys that are ubiquitous in Atlanta, and the women. Apparently muscular guys in little trunks attract a lot of women. Who knew?

So then it happens. The guys have posed. Trophy are awarded. The the fitness model portion of the show starts. And suddenly the place turned into a pep rally. At Hooters.

Now, because I hadn't actually seen Schmoopy since she started this...and the last FB pic I had seen of her made her arms look a little muscular, I figured this was one more thing I had to sit through until the muscular women came out. The fitness models came on stage, skimpy bikini's, bouncing and strutting and bodies glistening. I was still in the back, trying to figure out much longer this would last and marveling at the sudden turn of the crowd from family friendly to a more "adult" atmosphere.

It wasn't until they announced Schmoopy's real name for winning Second place that I realized she had been on stage. The woman who had been explaining the nuances of the event to me laughed at my shock. Schmoopy hadn't been gearing up for the bodybuilder part...she'd been working hard to be a bikini model.

Side note: Considering she restricted her diet to the basics and did a twice a day crippling workout, I have new respect for fitness models.

Schmoopy is a normally a conservative person, and so the idea of her onstage during this portion of the show, where the girls acted bubbly and the announcer didn't have to exhort the crowd in applause surprised me. When I talked to her later, she said that the swagger she'd had on stage was her being "in character". Turns out a bubbly beach bunny type actually works out hard to look like that. Go figure. She felt it was a good experience and that she's gonna continue it as hobby.

So, $35 for 90 seconds. Which is about how long she was onstage. And for 89 of those seconds I didn't even know it was her, I was so far in the back. But then they'd done the judging in the morning so this was for the crowd. After she'd gone up, gotten her trophy and I'd let her know I had been there because she asked, I left. Maybe I was intimated by the guys in the 50 and older division. Maybe I felt a little bad as the women looked through me to guy with D-cup pecs. Maybe I decided to go and work on my own transformation via law school.

Barkeep. Water for me and whatever it is fitness models drink for my girl.

The Next Phase

Ramblings post #154
They used to say that the only things for certain were Death and Taxes. Now, with the latest Republican congress, I ain't so sure about Taxes. But I am sure about one thing that should have been there. Change. You can be certain that change will happen. If only that's tomorrow you're one day older than you were yesterday. The only things certain are Death and Change. Just doesn't have the same ring to it.

For them that know, and them that don't, for the past few years I have been attempting to transform myself.

I'm not happy with my job or career path, and other items way to numerous to mention, and as it turns out strangely enough, that when I finally get tired enough I actually do something about it. So I've been writing a lot more, I went back to school for new skills, which in turn got me focused, and this past summer I decided to something about the physical.

Yeah, it turns out despite being an intelligent, employed, warm, affectionate, good credit having, educated, take a sista out regular, well read, romantic, witty and adventurous modern day renaissance hero (not to mention modest)... I wasn't what the women were looking for.

So, after gathering my fortitude, and enough money for the fee, I joined a weight loss program and got started. So with much effort and determination...okay, some determination... well, after it actually started working...I said let's do this and put my mind to it.

I started at 307 pounds.

I've lost a little bit since then. 52-ish pounds. A little bit.

And whereas I think I'm the same, the world...or at least when I'm paying attention some parts of it...looks at me different. Or at least looks at me.

The trick now will keeping it off. The weight loss phase I paid for is now exhausted, and we go to the maintenance and upkeep phase. The program has a system, but I got gym time planned and exercising I want to do on my own, so we'll see what happens.

Barkeep...um, Crystal Light Orange...with a shot of vodka? Let's see how that works.

And that was the motivation...

Ramblings Post #92
Life is petty and cruel. In that order, and if I see fate I'm gonna kick her ass. Do I perhaps sound a little miffed? A wee bit perturbed? Less than jovial and brimming full of loving goodness? To quote a mentally stunted former Vice Presidential candidate: You betcha! And there is so little to go on. This is the dawning of a new age. Again.

After I got Sporty started on her project for the next few days, I figured it would be me, some law books and all the Kool-aid I could drink for the weekend. My Friday nights are usually reading, my Saturdays are the "extension" sessions, updating and more reading, and Sunday is yet more reading, what I call "pre-note taking", and any reading I might have trouble getting through.
Nice, quiet, industrious, boring. (I'm adding problem solving next week to prep for finals)

But Saturday the Black Law Student Association wants to go bowling. I'm not really up for bowling - I haven't been in ...well, I'm not really sure but I know it's not remotely recent... and so I chill at the crib, talking with Spanky who is manufacturing drama with her new man friend, and trying to figure out which subject I'm going to fall asleep reading tonight.
But then I get a call to come on out, meet your fellow law students, and so I put on some clothes and head out. It's a small group, but then there aren't THAT many black law students anyway so I wasn't a huge crowd. We do couples bowling so that everybody gets a few rolls ( of note, I bowled two strikes and a spare) and it's actually pretty fun. There is laughing, cheering , some playful ribbing and the like and after we finish up, most of us don't want to head home. They want to go dance.

So we end up at Aja.

I don't get out much any more, so the host of activities I normally would have been privy to is non-existent, and the only reason I even know about this function is that Spanky had talked about it earlier on the phone. So we end up at this restaurant turned club for one night, and for the first time in ages, I actually have to PAY to get into somewhere. Shock. My RP even checked me on it the next day. This was monumental in its own way.

Aja. On and poppin'

The night turns into old home week, folks I haven't seen in three or four or ten years fall out of the woodwork and I try to keep it moving all night. I float back to my little group a time or two, and that's when it happens.

I thought I was doing okay. My belt was at the last notch before I had to move down a size. Pants are a little loose. When I go downstairs while at work, my reflection in the tinted glass doors doesn't look especially bad. Years from now however, when I'll appear on the cover of Men's Health or some new fitness magazine and they'll ask what motivates you to get out do those things I do to get into shape. And I'll give them my soon to be trademarked wry grin and tell them : At a law school outing someone took a picture of me.

I would say they got my bad side, but that implies I have good one. Next to the much fitter, much younger male archetype (who happens to be a classmate), I looked like somebody's fat uncle. Somebody's fat drunk uncle and I WASN'T EVEN DRINKING!!! I'm tempted to print the picture out and put it in my wallet so that I'll start getting my ass up in the morning to work out.

My next post might be from Piedmont park.

And no, I'm not gonna link to the photo....

Barkeep! A double shot of Slimfast and wheatgerm!

Fill in the spaces

Ramblings Post #63
We all get busy. There's the thing, and then the other thing, and that stuff we were supposed to do but we forgot, and then that other thing and before you know you forgot something. And then you're really in trouble. Luckily for me, this a truly optional blog. So I'm not in trouble. I think.

It's been a minute since I blogged, well a few days or such, and well, nothing much has been going on.

Oh, I had a break in attempt at the house. And since I actually have something worth stealing at this point, that was as tense a few moments as I've had in a while. But once the villains had broken the window, they apparently couldn't figure how to get inside without gouging an artery or two on the broken glass. So, I'm only out a window and medication for high blood pressure.

And, the finals for this semester schedule is out, and my finals are back to back, well, there is a day in between but since the prep is so tight, that's the equivalent of back to back. For the first time EVER, I'll be out for a whole week either taking a final or getting ready for one. Either I'm about to prove my worth the company, or they're going to realize they really don't need me. The rubber meets the road.

And I'm worried about Sporty. who suddenly is a character from a Terry McMillan black chick lit novel. For the first time she showed and interest into returning to Atlanta (well, she announced she's looking for work here), and though our long IM conversations, I can almost feel a change in her. She's much more spiritual, and her outlook on certain aspects of life seemed to have changed. I do so wonder what the hell happened to her in Texas, because it seems it was a life changer. One day when she's ready, she'll tell me.

And I need to get back on salads. As I've explained before, although I'm lovable and huggable , funny and urbane, learned and generous....all of that goes by the wayside unless you possess six pack abs. And I'm way down as of late, I mean in the mirror I'm not looking too shabby. And that's with the glasses on! After school wrecked my workout schedule, I was on a salad a day for while. But that got real expensive - Chick-fil-et, Zaxby's, Wendy's and whoever else sold the leafy green stuff because I'm too lazy to toss some greens at the house. Maybe salads at night.

The moved the Moguls around at the job. Chatty Mogul gave up his cush job because it was, and you can quote me, "too much pressure". This from a man who worked maybe an hour a day. And after a shift in the org structure, it's just a matter of time before Naive Mogul talks himself out of a job, because he new boss doesn't like him as much as his old boss. Or sleeps himself out of a job. Or as Daddy Mogul put it this morning, "Migraine? Is that what they call a hangover these days?"

My days are wakeup, wakeup again, turn off the alarm while awake this time, get up when the alarm off again, morning absolution, go to work, avoid strangling anyone, go to class, go home study, sleep, repeat.

So , as I said. Nothing much has been going on.

Barkeep, B-12 and some powerade. Sporty really likes powerade.

Old Age

Ramblings Post #59
We get little signs as we get older. A twinge where there used to not be a twinge. Somebody calls you sir or ma'am, for no reason. The first gray hair, I got that one at 25 for the record. Suddenly, ten shots of tequila has the reeling, where twenty used to just be the start. And you realize that cute little thing in the tight pants that you'd like to introduce to your "game" is young enough to be your daughter --- and she's drinking in the same bar you are. There are a lot of signs. Damnit.

Yesterday old age arrived. I noticed the beginnings of a double chin.

If there is anything that makes you suddenly realize you need to take thine ass to the gym, it's looking in the mirror and seeing the start of that extra little roll of fat under your chin. The roll of fat on your hips you're used to. You've learned designer camouflage. Now you're trying to figure out how you'd look in an ascot, and thinking it might not be that bad.

I had been waffling on tightening up my diet: Adding the salads I'd started skipping back into the mix, going back to the bran cereal, cutting way back on the carbs....but have you ever tasted fresh hot fries? Or had chocolate chip fudge brownies that a still kinda soft and warm? Well I have and since I'm not working out for the moment, those snacks are looking at condo prices in my love handles. And since some old acquaintances have started pasting old photos.. and I looked stuffed and bloated in a few of them... this is not a new problem. I can see why I've avoided cameras and pictures and all manner of preserving for posterity.

It is singularly depressing.

I've done short term adjustments before: The juice week, low carbs, brief diet changes... but short term isn't gonna get it.

As many times as I've complained - whined, lamented, etc - about how women are a lot more visual than folks want to admit I'm letting a situation I can control with a little will power slowly become a a real problem. I dream of one day taking off my shirt to get into the pool and having the women look at me like a fresh grilled pork chop. With BBQ sauce. That hungry look in their eyes, that says "I need to gets me some of that." And I may have to cut back a lot of things, but I will get there.

Salads. Cutting carbs. More fruit. Already cut out the sodas. Get back to the gym.

I is gonna make it.

And this time, I mean it.

Barkeep. Pear Juice. And two rolls of toilet paper and a good book. And a magazine.

I'm doing it to myself

Ramblings Post #32
What are our triggers? Those things that actually spur us into action as opposed to those things that were supposed to spur us into action. A lot of my personal starters stem from puberty and the usually well suppressed memories and the teenage thinking inflated traumas contained therein. Sometimes it's an innocent comment that cuts to the core, a feeling, sometimes its a scent, but whatever the term, I think I should be in control of them. And I find out more and more, I'm not.



I ate a whole box of Nilla wafers in less than 24 hours.

I don't normally keep snack food in my house for just this reason. It was easy to get a few more, then a few more, then a napkin full and suddenly "where did the rest go?" Oh.

I picked up the box on a whim, because the people ate Wise haven't figured out the person doing the stocking in Atlanta is either an idiot or is hoarding the Crunchy Cheez Doodles for himself. If you double the price and it still sells out, so.... let's load up on a completely different product? (Note: to Wise Foods executive reading this I am a Publix shopper)

So I bought some Nilla wafers. Something haven't eaten in forever. They were so good.

And I ate the whole box.

I already feel big. Okay, check that...I feel fat. And since it's beginning to dawn on me that a sparkling wit and personality really doesn't offset a gut, I need to do something. I still remember that stinging comment I overheard, being described by a someone I met at a party as the "fat guy in the kitchen". I had not thought about that in a long time.

My gym membership is about to go big time.

Barkeep. Water. Large amounts.

Back at it, Still Throwing Blows: Workout update

After my few months in the Park last summer, I'll guess at least four months maybe longer (I didn't keep track I just did it) I've waddled my big ass back into the gym.

Okay, it's not that big an ass, and I'm not waddling, but you've got to motivate yourself somehow.

I joined LA Fitness, because I told Sporty I would, and have been getting up at 6am to go and do an hour. The thing about it is, just like at the park, my 6-ish a.m. arrival makes me a latecomer. By the time I arrive the place is jumping. The treadmills are full, the bikes are in major use and the cycling class (which is overfull) is just reving into high gear. People are sweating, some folks already look ragged and I'm wandering in to do light work. I feel....light weight. In the bad way.

Now I remember why I don't like gyms. They make you competetive. Or rather, they make me competitive.

I get on the bike same time as you, I'm not getting off 'til you get off. I get on the treadmill same time as you, I'm in it until you pull up stakes.

Even if you're in obviously better shape than I am. Which is bad. I'm contemplating going to two-a-days to catch up. That would be working out at 6am and working out again after work. I know this because I had to take day after my first day, because I was too stubborn to admit that the smaller guy with the bodybuilder build could lift more than me, so I didn't change the weights on the pec machine. I cannot describe to you the sore.

I know I have obessive tendiencies. I'm trying to work through them.

Well, here we go again. Tom, my former walking partner and fast master, has chosen another spot to get his winter workout on, so I'm on my own.

Currently the workout is Bike for 20 minutes, Ellptical or whatever that machine is for 10 -15, then burnouts on the pec machine and lat machine. Add in my stretching on the front and you get almost an hour.

Just getting started.

Barkeep...let me a get a apple mango smoothie with a shot of beeswax. I'm getting in shape.

Still walking....

I've lost track of the days since we started...it's on here somewhere, but I'm still out there pretty much every morning since we started. I think we've missed only five or six days, and since we walk EVERY day - that's seven days a week, not five and two off or just the weekends - it's working out rather well. We do 2.6 miles on the nice gravel city provided track and with the walk in and out we get in roughly 3 miles.

The people you meet in the park at 6:30am are all focused. And sweaty. Some even have dogs. Occasionally you meet them with their personal trainer. Because we're all running or working out we don't really get much conversation, so I give them little mental nicknames to keep them straight.

There's Lonely. When we started walking she had two friends who walked with her, but they stopped coming and now she's out there walking by herself. And talking on her cellphone. Who she's talking to at that hour is a mystery.

There's Good Friend and Trying. Trying is out of shape, and comes out and struggles her way around the track. Good friend is her friend who is in fabulous shape...who occasionally forgets her girlfriend is in a bad way. She'll come breezing past then have to jog back to her girl.

There's the Indian Firecracker. We actually are pretty cool with her. She's training for a triathlon, taking an intensive Spanish course at the AUC and looks cute as button. Well she is. And I got all that from our brief 10 second conversations as she breezes past.

There's Barbie. Do I need to explain that one? She only runs the two and is out.

This morning we met the Naked Runner. He's not actually naked but he runs shirtless...and barefoot...and looks as though if could run in a loincloth it would be his preference.

I haven't seen Old Man Steel, Parking Lot Dad, Old but Sweet or the Workout Twins lately.

People aside, this outdoor exercise will continue until it gets too cold. Then it's gym memberships and juicing. As a result of all this, my clothes have gotten a little looser, my energy is up, my stomach looks flatter and my posture has improved. I feel pretty good about the whole thing.

Tom on the other hand has lost 60 pounds.

Okay, walking didn't knock that much weight off of him, he also stopped eating. Like all the way. He's been a forty day Juice/Water fast that has him strolling around like a hospital out-patient. I've suggested that he see a doctor as that much weight loss occasionally leads to kidney damage, but his new Zen like attitude has expressed the the idea that a "fast is to heal the body, not to hurt it" and regards my suggestion as being in error. Good thing we have full coverage health.

As his energy levels have fallen I've been adding difficulties to my sessions so that I get the most out of mine: Adding stairs, side sprints, hill climbing, etc. He should be done by this weekend...then we're talking colonics. Which is a whole other posting.

Barkeep...let me get a apple raspberry mango smoothie. Put a little rum in it.