It’s time for a change, in so many ways. This chronicle of my quest for several particular kinds of personal change will focus on diet, exercise and lifestyle changes. I will report meaningful things that occur along the way, positive and negative, inner and outer. I’ll deal with the present, the past and my goals, hopes and fears for the future. Feel free to join me and to share your thoughts, the music, and whatever else falls from these branches.
Soundtracks for the Best Days of Any Week
Independence Day - 7.4.08
April 2008
April 26
"He has you at any stage in your life. He has your youthful idealism. He has you when your relationship is splitting up. He has you when you can't face the world and you look for something higher to get you through. He has you at all stages."
Balance is not always at the top of my list in such times, but it should be, because it makes everything else possible.
And so, three days late, I have administered my weekly weigh-in, down from 249.2 to 248.4 in the 10 days since my last weigh-in, moving in the right direction even if I am 6 ounces behind schedule, and firm, at the very least, in my resolve to continue the BMGS 2.0 campaign's regimen of several days a week of swimming or other exercise and 2500 or fewer calories a day.
Update, July 14, 2009: Another busy day, but I noticed something especially nice when I was in the kitchen this morning brewing my second cup. For no particular reason I raised my right knee so that my thighs were parallel to the kitchen floor. Then I lowered it and did the same with my left knee.
No big deal, right?
Except that it is a big deal, to me. Both movements were effortless, with no propping myself up, no effort, no nuthin.
I may still be a long way from joining my pal at her weekly yoga class, but this little experience in my kitchen this morning demonstrates a level of flexibility that, frankly, I have not experienced in years. I don't know if it comes from losing 20 pounds or from all the swimming. Probably both. In any case, I will take it gladly, and keep at the regimen.
Big Man Getting Flexible! Yeah!
Unspeakable sadnesses
Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Jeesh, is this what being in my late 50s is going to be like?
Yesterday I learned that a good friend from high school, Chris Kennedy, died of prostate cancer over the weekend.
A week ago, Randy Barnett died of a heart attack in his sleep at the age of 56. He and I knew each other only by telephone, where we had co-managed a fantasy baseball team years ago, but he was one of the best friends of one of my best friends, Larry Ginsburg.
They were both good and decent men, and they will both be missed. They both lived full and satisfying lives, but lives that were way too short.
When I was 14 I worked as a dishwasher at LaRochelle's Restaurant in East Sandwich, and my first real life mentor was the cook, Nick. He was a wise and interesting man who had been an actor until he was blacklisted and lost that career. He was, then, about my age now or a little bit older, and during his break every day he would sit at a table in the kitchen and read the obituaries. "Just keeping up with old friends," he would tell me.
I lost track of Nick, but I am starting to understand what he was doing on his break.
There's not a lot you can do, I suppose. When it's your time, it's your time. Randy smoked cigarettes, but otherwise he was in great shape, an athlete.
But we keep doing what we can. About 18 months ago, during a routine physical, I had a blood test come back that showed me at the bottom edge of the gray area for a heightened risk for, and possibility of, prostate cancer. I had follow-up exams that were inconclusive, and decided against a biopsy. Instead, after talking at length with three doctors, I decided on an approach that had the additional felicity of being called "watchful waiting."
I did more than wait. I read extensively in Phyllis Balch's Nutritional Healing book, cut way back on red meat and other problematic foods and began getting a lot of lycopene, fish oil and flaxseed oil into my diet. My numbers gradually moved back from the risky "gray area" to the safe area, and have stayed there as I have watched them since.
Both my parents died in their 50s, but I expect, perhaps without supporting evidence, to live much longer. I don't think there is any real point in trying to organize one's entire life around the desire to live longer. I probably wouldn't be much good at it anyway. I want to live a long time, but even more than that I want to enjoy better health during whatever days I have left. Inner and outer health, I believe, are major keys to happiness.
When Larry came up for Randy's memorial we made plans to have breakfast. Then like an idiot I let work deadlines get ahead of me and I had to cancel at the last minute, which was a real failure to prioritize what is important.
It isn't easy to balance everything. There are so many things one must do to live a healthy life, inner and outer. It seems like there are a lot more of them than there used to be. There's work, family responsibilities, the laundry, and the daily administrative details like paying one's bills, getting to the bank, picking up groceries.
Now, in addition to all these other things, I have to add reading the obituaries. And mourning guys who were only 56 or 57.
But I am not complaining. Not even whining. I'm still here, grateful to be here, and daily more mindful that there is richness and soulfulness and even, sometimes, a path to joy, or a fleeting instant of possible awareness, in the unspeakable sadnesses of everyday life.
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Support the Writer's Guild Strikers
I've mentioned my friend Steve Peterman here before. Like a lot of other great people and great writers, he's on strike right now with the Writer's Guild of America. The central issue in the strike is simple and obvious. They should get a fair portion of the revenue that comes from so-called "new media" like websites, etc., based on the shows they write. Steve is one of the major creative forces behind one of my son's favorite shows, Hannah Montana. My son is constantly checking out Hannah Montana content on the web, so I have seen firsthand the natural connection between one kind of media and the other. Here are some links that Steve's and my mutual friend Ned passed on to me if you would like to know more about the writers' strike.
I thought some of you might be interested in sources of information about the Writers Guild of America (WGA) strike. Here are some links:
Steve also suggests this a site for good coverage of the strike developments:
For the best coverage of both sides people out here are going to Nikki Finke of LA Weekly. Her blog is deadlinehollywooddaily.com
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Two songs today, both written by heroes of mine. This first one would be a perfect fit for today's post even if Harry Chapin had not died at the age of 38 in the Summer of '81.
The other song was written by a great man named Si Kahn, an organizing mentor and colleague to me and many others as well as a terrific singer-songwriter and author. It's covered by Michael Johnathon.
Another successful weekly weigh-in, and I am establishing myself in the 240s now over the past few days, despite allowing some, well, interesting balance into my life the past couple of days that:
at the Lincoln town fireworks Saturday night, I enjoyed a dinner of Doritos and two frozen Snickers bars
last night my pal and I celebrated several sweet months with a walk and a dinner in Concord, and my dinner included a pomegranate martini, a cheeseburger, a caesar salad (my pal had french fries, but being statuesque she can get away with anything), and something called a Chocolate Explosion
I won't allow myself many weekends like that, but I also did some walking and it's all good on the scale this morning at 249.6. It has actually been remarkably gradual, which is probably exactly what I should be aspiring to, albeit without Snickers bars.
It was all they had at the fireworks snack bar, really.
PS - This morning my pal said that I looked really healthy around the eyes. I don't know if that would be the Doritos or the frozen Snickers bars.
I did most of the work on my weekly Kindle Nation email newsletter yesterday morning, writing a lost post that I feel pretty good about under the title "Wake Up, Amazon!"
Then I hung with Danny who was home sick from tweener summer day camp from 2 to 6 and he cleaned my clock twice at Clue, Simpsons version. We also went outside with Brownie for a while so he could take a hammer to a matchbox el-caminoed Cadillac which he had purchased for two bucks at Newbury Comics for the express purpose of seeing how hard it would be to demolish it with a hammer. That's my boy.
I got to the pool at 6 and did my 40 laps, which got me to a little over 3 miles for the week. Hot damn!
Arrived back at my house about 7:30 knowing I needed to do about two hours of work to send out Kindle Nation. Took a 45-minute nap with the replay of the previous day's Sox game as ambient TV noise, then got up, made myself a sardine sandwich and a cup of coffee, and hit "send" on Kindle Nation at 10:35 pm.
Included, in Kindle Nation, a note saying that there would be no issue this coming week. Just like the New York does in the summer sometimes, except they plan their breaks a little further ahead.
I was asleep by 11, like a rock on the pillow. Okay, a big rock.
Wandered through the house looking for coffee some time this morning, sat down and read an email sent by my pal suggesting I give her a call at 11:17 pm, looked at the clock on the computer and it said 5:52 am.
Had a bowl of flax cereal and two cups of coffee and spent the next two hours extremely productively while lying down: reading the chapter about my friend Jim Koch's friend John Wing in the The Smartest Guys in the Room, then making notes toward an amazing business plan for a new media company.
I also made a long list of things I could do today, and have done some of them.
Had a lovely conversation with my pal, although it was not about anything.
Jack G's wife died Thursday morning, and last night I drove down to Milford for the wake. My pal came with me and we had good talks on the way and the way back, so all it really took for me to pay my respects to Jack, to give him hugs of greeting and of parting, to tell him to call me any hour of the day or night, was five minutes. We got there about 7:30 and we were back in the car before 7:45. It meant something to Jack G, and it meant something to me.
How many wakes or funerals have I passed up, begrudging the five minutes? Dozens, maybe more. Probably there will be more to come, and maybe I'll have learned something when they do come.
The fact that I made it a priority to reach out to Jack imposed some order on my day yesterday, along with my time with Danny and his Karate class, so I did not post here about my weekly weigh-in, or anything else.
But I did the weigh-in, and even though the clock says 8:09 and my current regimen says that I must be working on the book and not blogging between 8 am and 1 pm, I am taking this five minutes now. As important as it is to be accountable to my writing regimen, it is equally important to be accountable to my BMGS regimen.
Sometimes life as a grown-up is about balancing multiple and mildly conflicting forms of accountability. Duh.
So I will just post the chart here, and say that it is all good, very good, especially when the weigh-in at 251.4 came after a weekend that featured a Father's Day brunch with Danny at Country Buffet (yes, as in "all you can eat") and a delicious barbecue at my pal's.
I am going to keep this up and I am going to be down into the 240s at or near the first of July! Is that big?
Weighing in each week is an absolutely essential element of the accountability process for BMGS, but I will admit that it is sometimes a part of the process from which I shrink a bit, er, no pun intended. Nobody ever guesses my weight when they see me (either that or they are very kind to me, which is entirely possible whether deserved or not), so it doesn't thrill me to share the actual numbers here. But who's kidding who? The whole point of the project here is to bring fundamental change in my health, my eating and exercise habits, my body, and mybody's appearance. Being embarrassed by, or hiding, the reality of the numbers would be a bit of a telling dodge.
So once a week, without putting too fine a point on things, I can accept the focus on the numbers, the weigh-in, the number of pounds. I can even embrace it, even if part of my ability to do so comes from my knowledge that I'll be done with that for another week.
So, here's what I got:
I'm still ahead of schedule, and I have lost weight every week.
The funny thing is that when I weighed myself yesterday I didn't think I had lost weight, because I had forgotten the numbers from the week before, and until I checked the chart I thought my June 8 weight had been 251.8 instead of 252.8.
So, in the past two weeks I have gone from 253.2 to 252.8 to 252.2. Funny how a swing of a pound can matter.
I'm not concerned that my weight loss is slow. Like I said, I am ahead of schedule, and what is far more important is that I am building a really strong foundation of exercise with my daily swims and off-day jogs and walks. This week's swimming plateau is at 26 laps a day, which is what I did yesterday including, in the middle of the workout, 200 yards (8 laps) without a break. That exercise and the conditioning that is coming with it will ultimately be the most important part of my success.
I have been eating pretty healthy for the most part, even when out for dinner the last two nights -- for a Community Servings benefit at Scullers Sunday night and a Boston Writers Union get-together at Tavern in the Square last night. For the most part.
I am feeling very confident that I will drop another 13 pounds by the end of the summer, and then another 13 by the end of the year. I am projecting that I will be at 225 by December 28, which will be, speaking of 13s, 13 years to the day after I reached a New Year's Resolution goal to run a 6-minute mile by the end of 1996. I was heavier than 225 when I ran that mile, which was on the treadmill at Wellbridge, about 7 months before I blew out my ankle in the Sugar Bowl 5-miler in Southie and ended up crutches for weeks and unable to run for years. I'm not planning any 6-minute miles this year. I'm just planning to make sure I do not end up on crutches.
Through most of my 20s and my 30s I was a community organizer, working with poor folks who were in many ways a lot like my own people, all over the country. I worked with great groups like ACORN and the People’s Alliance in Arkansas, Texas, Louisiana, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine and I trained organizers and community activists all over the country. I regularly worked 70 hours a week kicking ass, taking names and helping people make a positive difference in their lives.
I bring that up now not only for the obvious reason why a 50-something guys brings up all the things he did in his 20s, but I was thinking about how important it was to me, back then, to do significant work. I had put my writing on hold to organize for social change, and when a friend like Stewart Acuff or Larry Ginsburg would ask me what my bottom line was I would say that I just wanted to be responsible for as much good organizing to change as many people’s lives as I could, in any way I could. Whatever my success with that goal over the course of many years, I have to acknowledge that it changed over time, as my children got older and I began to think about looming tuition payments and eventually struggled through some serious difficulties that I created in my own life and the lives of people I loved.
Now, here I am, 57, and working at various writing gigs while I create a more or less daily blog that on several levels is all about contemplating my navel. It has come to this.
But I do not despair. My purpose here is not, primarily or initially, to achieve something of great significance. (Duh, that’s a good thing, hmm?). I’d like to keep getting into better and better shape so I can enjoy life more and have more of it. I’d like to stay true to my path, learn as much as I can, share some of it, and enjoy some music with friends and passersby.
It is all going pretty well. My weight has been on a plateau for about a week, but a good pal emailed me: “Don't feel sluggish about your blog. If you are at a plateau, then tell your readers. Just be honest, like you have been since day one and they'll love you for it.”
I like love, whether or not I expect it here.
Sometimes I do think about whether this is all just an exercise in self-absorption. A close friend of my ex-wife, a woman who in the past has been very good to me and mine, sent me a zinger of an email in which she asked not too cryptically: “Still on the pretentious Bus are we?”
Anyone would be a fool not to understand that the best friend of an ex-spouse tends to be placed in the role of crucible (if that can be a role, which I am sure it can’t but I am hurrying a little here) for some of the anger that the ex does not always get to express in a generally amicable parting. I don’t hold that against anyone, and I appreciate the honesty. Here’s most of what I wrote back, hoping not to be too defensive either of myself or of my blog.
“It's possible, but I didn't see that route listed when I got on, if this is a bus. As in pretense? Or pretend? I don't know. I parse the words not to play a semantic game, but to wonder honestly about your meaning. I will grant that both the premise and presentation of the blog are self-absorbed by definition, but I hoped that by mixing in liberal amounts of honesty, self-deprecation and attempted humor and entertainment (and by the mere and I think obvious fact that when one starts anything by admitting to weighing 273 pounds there is some shame, if not humility, in the enterprise), I might pull it all off while also accomplishing the face-value goal explicit in the title of the blog. I'm sure some people read it and consider it ridiculous, including those who know me and those who don't. I guess I can take your question or implicit statement that I am ‘still on [any kind of] bus’ to mean that you see it as part of a past pattern that I have revealed before. I am open to that idea, and surely it is all of a piece because it is all me. But while I have [screwed up] in the past, I have tried to own it and be responsible for it in different ways. This seems different, and positive in my intentions. But if I come across as full of myself in a simplified way, and in doing so give anyone who is pissed off at me (or whatever) another confirmation that being pissed off at me (or whatever) is the right response to me, I'm not bothered by that and I do not blame anyone for having that response….
“Maybe the whole thing is a waste of the 40-45 minutes a day I have been putting into it, but it began with some real desperation about the 273.5 that was flashing back at me from the scale's digital readout, and a hunch that I could accomplish a few things in the process. I guess I will just have to see.”
Which is true. I will. Have to see.
But meanwhile, another email I got overnight came from, Mark, an old friend who is a damned good writer in his own right. He wrote to thank me, implying that somehow my blog had got him writing poetry again.
Go figure. Do I really believe it? Not so much. Do I believe that it worked for Mark? Absolutely. Does it make me feel that there can somehow be some significance in what I am doing here for a little while each day?
Just enough.
Thanks, Mark. Keep writing.
Saturday's soundtrack
My son's mom and I saw Tracy Chapman perform one night on the waterfront here. She was so good I can't even remember who she was opening for. She's with us this morning, opening for all of us with today's soundtrack.
Ordinarily I don't pay a lot of attention to the visual montage part of some of these Youtube video's, which is unfair of me since their creators are far more talented at what they are doing than, say, I am at creating this blog. But this one of "The Promise" is kind of stunning, almost enough to make up for something like the last few seconds being clipped off at the end of the song*.
*If you want to hear the whole song, this time with some of that ubiquitous footage of the colossally but perhaps unbearably cute Harry and Hermione, here it is.
If I'm going to go to the gym to swim on a day when it is (1) deadline day for my weekly Kindle Nation email newsletter and (2) the day my Kindle DX arrived and half the sentient world is waiting with baited breath for me to post my incredibly interesting impressions of it, then, well, I better make something of the trip.
Did I?
Yes I did.
I started off feeling good and committed myself, right from the get-go, to lengthening out the segments between my 45-second rest-and-recoveries. Yesterday I lengthened out the segments from 50 yards to 100 yards (4 laps). Today I added another 50 yards to each segments and only rested after each bundle of 6 laps.
Then, during my second rest period, I happened to look up and see a sign on the wall that I somehow had not noticed before. Maybe it was new, or maybe I just have a way of filtering out what does not apply to me. Until it does apply.
The sign said:
1 lap = 25 yards72 laps = 1 mile
Okay, I had noticed the top line. Not the bottom line.
Once I noticed it, my fate for today was sealed.
I was determined to complete a half-mile swim. 36 laps.
So that's what I did. It felt great, all the way. It's probably pathetic that I get such motivation out of such games. But I do. I knew I had done 30 laps last Friday, so getting to 36 isn't shock-the-world stuff. But for most of my daily swims I have just been adding 10% a week -- or that's what I am saying I am doing -- so the long-day jump from 30 to 36 feels good. Here's the log for the past 3 1/2 weeks:
5/19 - 12 laps 5/20 - 14 laps 5/21 - 16 laps 5/26 - 18 laps 5/27 - 20 laps 5/28 - 20 laps 6/1 - 22 laps 6/2 - 22 laps 6/3 - 22 laps 6/5 - 30 laps 6/8 - 24 laps 6/9 - 30-minute jog 6/10 - 24 laps 6/11 - 36 laps (1/2 mile!)
I'm just starting to get into a book that I picked up on fitness swimming, so I am probably a couple of weeks away from the craziness of timing my laps, swimming intervals, etc. But gaming the workouts a bit just helps to make it fun, and writing it down the way I do plays a big part in allowing me to see -- and celebrate -- the progress I am making. But as it is, I'll have to tell my friend Martha -- who sat next to me in Western Civ freshman year but swims so much that she still looks 37. Don't you think? She did 2 miles in 60 minutes this year, so half a mile is nothing. But it's a start.
I've never considered myself enough of an athlete to get seriously competitive with other people. Or at least not in a long time. But I do find it very easy to take inspiration from them. And I also find it very easy to feel self-congratulatory when I accomplish anything. Which is part of the brain chemistry that keeps me coming back.
A friend of mine got up before 5 this morning and went right out for a walk and jog, and then she said it was no big deal because she had already been up so early. I'm just the opposite. Give yourself credit! That's the way I look at it. And it is partly because I know that feeling good about what I did today will help me to go out and do what I need to do tomorrow.
It's a gray, slightly drizzly Thursday in East Arlington, but I barely know it. I am in the zone.
Back on September 21, inspired by Big Man Getting Smaller, she began a diet. Her goal was to get down from 144 to 125 by following the same basic rules that are working here.
1. Take in fewer calories than her daily maintenance amount of calories, which was 1,904 when she started.
2. Get more exercise, or a moderate amount of exercise 4 or 5 days a week.
3. Keep track of what she is eating, and plan ahead.
As of today, she is at 136, which means that she has lost 8 pounds in 22 days!
That is 6% of her body weight in 3 weeks, which is basically the same rate of reduction that BMGS is experiencing.
It is also considerably faster than I suggested to her when she I produced a chart of weekly calories intake, etc., that would get her to her goal of 125 on February 1.
So congratulations, Diane!
But she is frustrated that it isn’t going more quickly.
Part of this, of course, is the impatience that any of us feels when we don’t get fairly constant positive feedback from, in this case, the scale. We’re working hard at something, and we want to see the progress reflected in some kind of meaningful metrics.
Another huge part of it is that Diane, when she started, was a 144-pound woman. BMGS is a man who started out at nearly twice Diane’s size.
Viva la difference, of course, but there are some very specific differences:
1. Even now, after losing 10.6% of my body weight, my daily calorie requirement for maintaining my current weight of 244.5 is 3398 calories. So, if I take in 1,898 calories a day. I will lose 3 pounds a week. 1,898 calories is not an all-day pig-out by any means, but it isn’t bad. It isn’t starving. It allows for the occasional pint, the occasional steak, and even the occasional dessert.
2. On the other hand, if Diane consumes 1,898 calories a day, her weight will never change. Of course, that is not fair. In order to lose 1 pound a week, which is what I suggested she do in order to get to her goal by February 1, Diane has to consume fewer than 1,400 calories a day. It isn’t starvation either, but it doesn’t allow nearly as much wiggle room as 1,898 calories.
3. 1 pound a week is a lot less rewarding than 3 pounds a week. It basically means, if you are getting on the scale every morning, 5 or 6 days a week it isn’t going to register any weight loss. That is harder.
4. In addition to the good news that I get when I step onto the scale, I also get good news when I step onto one of the machines at the gym. Because I am big, I burn more calories when I work out. Twice this week I had workouts where I burned over 1,000 calories in a single session at the gym. It’s a lot easier to burn 1,000 calories if the number you punch in on the elliptical keypad is 245 than 145.
Oops, excuse me. 136.
So, it is natural that this is occasionally frustrating, and more so for a woman. If it weren’t frustrating, it would be easy. If it were easy, you would have already done it!
Keep it up, Diane. The amazing thing to me is that you are able to do it without creating a blog!
I was talking with my pal this morning, after my swim.
I hadn't been sure about my swim. I was physically tired yesterday. I needed to skip a day at the pool and that's what I did. Felt right. Even thought that maybe -- what with the pool being open for adult swim Monday through Friday -- I should start scheduling a regular mid-week day off from the pool. Then I had a bit of a comfort-food dinner last night and, well, when I rolled out of bed at 7 this morning I wasn't feeling like a paragon of physical discipline. (Which is good, because I am not).
Got myself to the pool though. But once I was in the water, I didn't think I would be able to complete 10 laps. I just felt like I was working harder to swim than I had been working lately. plus, and this is important, there was the thing about not feeling like a paragon of physical discipline. My feeling like I hadn't been with the program yesterday sapped my motivation to get back on it today. Not the blues exactly, but it is definitely an ingredient of the blues, that thing where your brain starts working against you, negotiating with itself against your better angels, making deals to let you off easy.
But I persevered. I had a feeling that brain was at work, and I also had a feeling that the best thing to do was to work through it.
So I got to 10 laps and I kept going. I've been doing 22 laps a day the last 3 or 4 times I have been to the pool. Once I got to 10 I was pretty sure I could get to 22.
And then I kept going. Yes I did. Past 22 laps, two at a time, until I had completed 30 laps, feeling strong, and 750 yards.
Sitting here typing, I feel my arms, my legs, and my confidence that I am back on track. I came back and had a high-protein bachelor breakfast. You don't want to know. Okay, what the hell. I had a can of sardines. I like sardines. My sister Deborah, a very knowledgeable foodie, says they are really good for me. Maybe not if I have a date soon afterward, but otherwise.
Anyway, that brings me back to talking with my pal. She was at her office, a little after 9, telling me she had been feeling foggy all week, not getting much done.
Whoa, said I. I kind of recalled her finishing some big projects on Monday and Tuesday, and I also recalled that what she had done on Tuesday, which is a work-at-home day for her, was exactly what she had planned to do. I pointed this out. "Oh, yeah," she said, and I could tell that she was sincerely surprised.
"So, in fact, you have been feeling foggy and not getting much done for a day," I said. "A little different."
I'm just saying. Isn't it interesting how are brains are constantly negotiating with reality, revising our sense what we have or have not done and how we feel about it. And it isn't always a good thing.
Far be it from me to tell my pal how to think about her work, but with me -- especially on this BMGS 2.0 campaign of mine -- it really matters that I write things down just about every day, and make sure I give myself credit for what I do. Otherwise I might have managed to get in the pool this morning thinking I hadn't accomplished anything, or eaten in a healthy way, for days. I might have allowed myself to give in to my brain with the notion that it didn't really matter what I did today, because I had been drifting so aimlessly.
Instead, I had a great day in the pool, a good healthy smelly breakfast, and I have going to have some cantaloupe and toast before I clean the house a bit before Danny comes over in a couple of hours.
And I'm on track for another happy weigh-in on Sunday.
Life is so simple. Much more simple than this troublesome brain of mine.
As I wrote on my Facebook page today (June 3, 2009), I am "amazed and grateful for your wonderful outpouring of birthday wishes. I began my 60th year with an absolutely wonderful dinner with multiple generations of family and loved ones last night at Za in East Arlington. I know I am a sap, but so far, it is a great, great year."
Also worth mentioning that both yesterday on my birthday and today in its aftermath I got to the pool and did my 22 laps, and despite a very nice dinner that included what Danny calls "freaky pizza" (others might call it "gourmet"), a pint and a half of Smutty Nose dark beer (I split the second pint with Kippy), and some extremely sinful "bourbon pecan pie with whipped cream," I got on the scale today and can report that I right on track as I head toward my next weigh-in on Sunday.
Said she'd never been in trouble, or even in town
Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 10/8/2007
A little over a week ago Donna made a very thoughtful comment that I’ve been kind of waiting for the right moment to engage:
22 Pounds! That's very good for one month! How does all this make you feel? I would imagine you are having feelings of accomplishment and power, and loving yourself more and more. Those are the real benefits of having a goal, focusing on it and doing it! Donna
I think those very positive feelings are there, definitely, and as she says they are direct benefits of focusing on a goal and achieving it.
Yet I have to admit that it is so easy to lose touch with the positive feelings, even while I am doing it. It is my proven nature that, far too often, even when things are going exceptionally well, I have a tendency to get all wrapped up in the other things I want to accomplish, the other goals that are not being met, the various and manifold ways in which I am flawed. If that were simple humility it might be a good thing, but I think it is as many parts pride as humility.
I am not bringing this up just now to try to figure it out or conquer it, because I would not be optimistic regarding my chances in that battle. I only want to say that it is part of the condition of things for me, something I must live with and try to keep in its place.
And what I must say beyond that, the almost naming of this probably pointless angst, is that this is a large part of why it is good for me to write things down as I am doing, to record my progress toward this very serious goal – the goal of getting into good shape, a goal that I haven’t yet made specific in terms of an ultimate number. By writing things down here, of course, there is the obvious gravity of accountability that helps me stay on track. But there is also the fact that I am allowed to look at this blog each morning, a few times a day even, and say, “Yeah, keep it up, you are doing it, you hot shit,” or words to that effect.
And every bit as nice is that I get comments like Donna’s and emails and other nice feedback from people who know me and people who don’t, along the way. It helps, and I absolutely believe that I will live longer as a result.
I am getting younger every day. The problem with that is that I could keep going, way too far, and end up a dorky kid again, back in 1965, knowing nothing ... sort of like these guys ... give it up for The Critters. Really, they called themselves that.
American pop music had it moments in the 60s, it really did. These guys made two mildly interesting songs, and just go ahead and try to tell me that this line isn't deep:
Said she'd never been in trouble, or even in town
It's a great line, is all.
Here's a somewhat more interesting cover of the same song, by an English-language band out of Hong Kong,Teddy Robin and the Playboys:
In honor of Tarzan (aka Johnny Weissmuller, June 2, 1904 – January 20, 1984) I got up and hit the pool shortly after 7 am for 22 laps. Felt great, and my 59th birthday seemed like all the more reason to stick with my routine.
I don't want to get too far ahead of myself and try to project what I am going to do in honor of the Beaver, aka Jerry Mathers, but I'll find something. After all, I'm a big fan.
Swimming is really working out for me, I'm here to say after two weeks. I'm getting a good workout in 5 days a week, and I have not experienced a single moment of pain. Even back when I was running marathons and training 40+ miles a week in the mid-90s, I invariably finished each day's workout wondering if I was going to be able to work out the next day, or if nagging injuries would keep me from it.
And as a good exercise routine almost always does, it seems to be helping me to rest, to eat in a generally healthy and moderate way, and even to focus more in a more effective and satisfying way on the rest of my life. So I'm being a little bit of a cheerleader for "my program," here, but that's just another part of making it work.
What a terrific birthday I am having, and it's been going on since Saturday! The people who care about me have been taking very sweet care of me, and I am even enjoying this rather remarkable Facebook phenomenon of experiencing lots o' love from long-time friends as well as FB Friends of a more recent variety.
Some of you have known me since the time when that photograph on the left was snapped of me running cross-country at Mount Hermon back in the Fall of 1967. (I don't know who took the photo, but thanks to Keith McCasland for scanning it from the '68 yearbook and emailing it to me). Anyway, that's the guy I am looking for now, my inner 17-year-old, when I jump in the pool each morning these days. I don't have any illusions of being 17 again, but I am feeling more confident each day that this year I am beginning today, my 60th year, will be a year in which I feel younger each day. It's all up to me ... and, in a way, up to Tarzan and the Beaver.
Thanks for checking in, and thanks to many of you for your birthday wishes!
A little after 5 p.m. yesterday I was headed over to watch the Red Sox’ first playoff game with Danny, and I hadn’t made a plan for dinner.
I don’t know about you, but nothing spells danger for me, in terms of food and eating and weight gain, like a couple of hours of watching a baseball game. If there is food in the house, well … isn’t that why they have those 17 little breaks at the end of each half-inning?
I needed a plan.
I needed dinner, but that was only the beginning.
There’s a Whole Foods Market half-way between my house and my son’s, and I pulled in.
Five minutes later I walked out with vast quantities of fresh fruit (strawberries, blackberries, and bananas) and veggies (celery and carrot sticks, cherry tomatoes and broccoli florets). There was a container of ranch dip, but I took a little of that and mixed it with balsamic vinegar to lighten it up and thin it so it lasted longer.
I had most of the fruit for “dinner” while Danny had mac and cheese. Then half the veggies and my “homemade” dip sustained me quite well during the game. All in all it came to just over 500 calories, and the other half of the veggies are in my fridge.
Was it the greatest game-watching fare I have ever eaten? No, but it wasn’t the worst either.
It cost less, even at Whole Foods, than I would have spent if I had sat at a bar and watched the game with a sandwich and a beer.
And the Sox kicked some backside, which is especially nice.
I had a nice email the other day from old friend Nick Wyman, writing from Sarasota where he will appear beginning October 13 in the pre-Broadway premiere of A Tale of Two Cities at the Asolo Repertory Theatre's mainstage, The Harold E. and Esther M. Mertz Theatre. My efforts to get back to my old playing weight struck a chord with Nick, and he told me he’d been struggling to keep his weight where he wants it.
One significant difference between us that bears mentioning here is that Nick is 6’5”, while I am 5’11 on a good day. In the interest of full disclosure, I should admit that I have sometimes envied very tall people their ability to wear a few extra cheeseburgers more elegantly than the rest of us.
But I know that is silly, and I understand that it is every bit as much of a struggle for Nick as it is for me. He is doing admirably with a regimen of yoga, gym duty every other day, and some sensible meals. But he got me thinking about another Nick.
Nicky D. was also 6’5” and struggling with his weight when I knew him a few years ago. He was doing time for some drug-related problems (like a couple of million other Americans). Who am I to hold that against him? Like Nick Wyman, Nicky D. was a great guy who I loved being around.
But there was a big man. He had started out somewhere over 1100 pounds. No, that’s not a typo. 1100 pounds. Of course nobody starts out at 1100 pounds, but I think you know what I mean.
He worked at it so hard. He lost over 500 pounds, down to under 575. Yeah, he lost the equivalent of 3 grown men of normal proportions. He did it by eating healthfully and walking every day. He had a lot of extra skin hanging here and there on him, but it wasn’t hard to imagine he might continue his successful effort and get back down around 300, which he had carried well as a high school football player 20 years earlier.
Then he got a job in the kitchen at the prison where he was doing time. Not surprisingly, he was a very good cook. Everybody else in the joint wanted him to work in the kitchen, I heard.
But within a few weeks I could see that things had changed. The scale started moving in the other direction. (He had to use an industrial scale). In a few months he was over 700 again. He could gain 5 pounds at a single meal, and ate around the clock, but the key to it all was that his kitchen job gave him unlimited access to foot after a couple of years of deprivation.
There are morals to the story. Simple ones. Being 6’ 5” is no protection. And if weight issues challenge you, don’t get a job in the kitchen, any more than an alcoholic should be serving drinks or a gambling addict dealing cards.
5.28.2009: Maybe it was the big dinner, the good company, or the Dos Equis, but I slept like the most interesting man in the world last night and didn't open my eyes until after 7, well more than an hour later than usual. So instead of getting to the pool around 7:15 as I usually do I took advantage of the fact that there are 10 more days of mid-day swimming hours for adults, and I did my 20 laps at noon. All is well with my exercise, my calorie counts, and the scale, and I'll be back tomorrow. Until then:
Sticky Situations Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 10.1.2007
Did you ever notice how we get ourselves into these situations? I mean, sticky situations? Did you? Or is it just me?
Quite often they begin with the best of intentions. Mine always do.
Sometimes, in my past, they became very, very sticky. I’m not going to write about that now. It is neither the time nor the place.
But this weekend, while the stakes were not nearly so high in the short run, was one of those sticky situations.
One of my several jobs – they all have to do with writing and/or publishing in way or another – involves copywriting, writing web content that is neatly balanced between helpful information and marketing copy, for a variety of business websites. It isn’t bad work, and I like the 5-second commute. It keeps the wolf from the door.
I get to choose my assignments on my employer’s intranet site. Sometimes they are fun. Sometimes they involve decades of research. Sometimes they are short. Sometimes they are way too long.
This weekend I got caught up in an assignment that was way too long, 50 pages all about a little college in San Diego that provides various types of computer training. 50 pages! By yesterday afternoon I never wanted to hear another word about Bioinformatics or an inverted “career first” curriculum. But I had to finish. I did, a little bit late but still in plenty of time for the assignment to be included in third-quarter revenue.
What does any of this have to do with the enduring themes of Big Man Getting Smaller? Plenty.
It’s great not to have a 9 to 5 job, except when I get myself into situations where I have to work 15-hour days. Those were fine when I was in my 20s, but now they stress my body a lot more and create imbalances as far as sleep and exercise are concerned.
I made up my mind that I would not allow this weekend’s work to create an imbalance for me eating-wise, and I stuck to it. My calorie intake was in the 1800-1900 range each day. Having this blog with its built in accountability made a big difference. When I finished last night I was hungry and exhausted and I felt some ill effects from not getting any real exercise the last couple of days. But I knew I would be fine today if I just kept to the basics of my plan. So I had a celebratory dinner of a huge salad and a 400-calorie sub, caught up on a few emails, and went to bed.
I got back to the gym for a nice workout this morning, my weight is right where it should be, and I feel terrific.
There’s plenty more to say, but it can wait until tomorrow.
Mark Flanagan is an old and dear friend. All too many years ago we were copy boys together at the Boston Globe, and we built a largely nocturnal friendship exploring the magical, mystical and maudlin haunts of Boston and surrounding environs as we found them many nights after putting in our shifts and leaving the building on Morrissey Boulevard around midnight.
I tried way back then to make Mark a character in some fiction I was attempting to write, but I could never do him justice. It turns out now that he is doing justice himself to many a story: his own and others', in the lyrical songs and poetry (such as his "On Fireflies") he has created for the album Creekside Rhapsody.
"Pheromones" is a new occasional feature of this Blog, in which I will share and share alike from among the reader creations and suggestions that flow back toward me. Feel free to send yours in to me either as comments on the blog or by sending me an email at hppress@gmail.com .
