Night Swimming

I returned about an hour ago from a great swim in the pool. Another 108 laps, or 1.5 miles, which replicates what I did on Tuesday and has kind of transformed my "long" days into something that I can repeat 2 or 3 times a week.

Both Tuesday and today I was in the pool for an hour and 40 minutes and did the 108 laps nonstop without any break. Back in my running days, running for that long a time, on the clock, was close enough to a "long run" that I certainly was not doing anything that long more than once a week. That amount of time on the clock meant a run of 10-12 miles at my leisurely pace, and that was as much as I did except in the final weeks of training for a marathon, when I trained properly as I did in '78, '93, and '94.

So the astonishing thing, at least to me, is that I have been able in a little less than two months (since I first jumped into the pool on May 19) to build up my conditioning as a swimmer to the point where I can sustain a workout of one hour and 40 minutes without a break.

I just looked up the relative calorie counts of swimming and running and they are pretty close: I am probably burning off a little over 1200 calories during a 1.5 mile swim, or about 120 calories per 10 minutes. If I run for an hour and 40 minutes I will burn off 1500 calories, but the problem is that I will also be on crutches in the morning.

During my best workouts on a treadmill or elliptical machine over the past few years, I might have approached burning off 1,000 calories, but not often.

So this swimming thing is working for me.

Don't get me wrong. It wears me out, even when Marilyn is not there, and I sleep like a baby. But it doesn't beat me up, so the result is that I can do these long swims a few times a week, and get into better and better shape.

For each set of three 1.5 mile swimming workouts I do, that's 3,600 calories. And 3,500 calories equals one pound of body weight, gained or lost, for us humans.

I can do the math, and I'll keep coming.

Dreaming a life - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Wednesday, November 14, 2007

A quick update at the start of a busy day this morning, July 15, 2009:

• A wonderful day at the pool yesterday, swimming 1.5 miles (108 laps, 100 minutes) without so much as a five-second rest along the way.
• Coming out of the pool with a brain full of endorphins, singing "That's No Way to Say Goodbye" in the shower without embarrassment and another 50-something comes up to me and asks if I caught Leonard when he played here a few weeks back, no, but leading to a fun conversation about Cohen, whom I saw for the first time in '66 or '67 at the Melody Tent, playing the piano for Judy.
• A bit of a difficult evening with my pal which ended up in our feeling even more connected, which is all one can hope for.
• A nice and unexpected email and telephone conversation with an old friend, opening the door to some nice, if optimistic, visions of ways in which much of the hard work I have been doing these past few years might lead to pleasant and appropriate rewards.

Dreaming a life

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Wednesday, November 14, 2007

35 pounds today. Another multiple of 5, and some real progress the last few days after slogging for a while.

When I was a distance runner in high school, we had the toughest, hilliest course in New England. I don't know if I succeeded or not, sometimes I did, but I tried to be a mudder, the type of guy who embraced the conditions whatever they were. The last couple weeks of the season we had some snow, a sub-freezing race or two, some mud. I had imagined myself a mudder, and I had my best races then.

So I slog on. I won't say a lot more today, but I'll listen to this music, "Dreaming a Life" by Native American flutist Carlos Nakai. Listen. In a small way it is what I am trying to do here, a struggle of positive self-invention.

Wednesday's Soundtrack

Some nice Zim footage from "The Last Waltz." I had so many thoughtful emails after yesterday's post. Thank you.

Thursday's Soundtrack

When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
We've been through this such a long long time
Just tryin' to kill the pain
But lovers always come and lovers always go
An no one's really sure who's lettin' go today
Walking away


Guns 'n' Roses - November Rain

Friday's Soundtrack

Some of my favorite bubble gum music.... covered with an edge in the first instance.



Joan Jett and the Blackhearts covering Tommy James' & the Shondells "Crimson and Clover"



"Friday" by The Cure


"Hang on Sloopy" by The McCoys -- there was a time in 60s pop when love always trumped class warfare, and I'm embarrassed to say I believed it, whether it was "Sloopy," "Patches," or "Rag Doll"



"Silence is Golden" by The Tremeloes, who must have thought they were showing up to audition for roles in "The Full Monty"

Unspeakable sadnesses - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - Tuesday, November 13, 2007

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.

Yesterday I heard about a new study demonstrating a linkage between obesity and prostate cancer, so there's one more addition to the many reasons for the Big Man to Get Smaller.

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.

****************************

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:

A petition of support:

http://www.PetitionOnline.com/WGA/petition.html

A short presentation outlining the essential issues:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJ55Ir2jCxk

On-going LA Times coverage of the strike:

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/showtracker/2007/11/strike-news-o-s.html

UnitedHollywood.com blog:

http://unitedhollywood.blogspot.com/

WGA, West Home Page:

http://www.wga.org/index.aspx

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

***************

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.

Back in the pool, and 3 ounces behind schedule

I got hit by some little viral bug last week -- it didn't hit me nearly as hard as it hit Danny and his Mom, but knocked me back enough that I knew I had better stay out of the pool and conserve my strength. So it was a week of laying low, not much exercise, and purposely backing off the BMGS regimen that has been working for me.

It's all well and good to listen to one's body, and something that I have grudgingly improved at over the years, but I should also admit that I was a little anxious that I would lose all the ground I have gained the past eight weeks. Especially with yesterday being pretty much a day devoted to hanging out and barbecuing on my pal's deck, capped off with two very good cheeseburgers and two Sam Lights while Kip was visiting for dinner last night.

Not to worry.

I won't go into great detail now, but I am pleased, all things considered.

First, I was back in the pool today for 48 laps and I felt great. Nothing special, no sprints, just a good 2/3-mile swim with no rest breaks. And when I arrived home afterward I didn't feel like crashing immediately (as is usually the case on my long days but would not have surprised me today).

Second, Monday's my weekly weigh-in and and I came in at 249.2, down a little bit from last week, and just three ounces above my goal for this week's weigh-in. Got to step it up just a little this week, but all is well.

Embracing the solitude - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Saturday, November 10, 2007

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Saturday, November 10, 2007

Feeling at least half better today, which I will take. I'm down a pound to 240 even, the lowest I have been, after too many days on a plateau. So I am pleased about that, too.

The fact that the scale registers a pound lower probably has a lot to do with the fact that I've been eating like a sick person the last couple of days, with lots of soup and yogurt.

But that's okay, I'll accept credit for eating healthy, even if I didn't have my usual appetite. Frankly, just between you and me, there have been plenty of times when I have been sick in the past, felt lousy, and used it as an excuse to pig out.

Or, just as easily, I could have gone to one of my all-time favorite ways of coping with a cold, come the evening hours: copious amounts of rum and orange juice, in progressively stronger doses. It really does help one glide through a cold's symptoms, as long as one does not have to drive or take care of small children, etc. I heartily recommend it, and as I was driving home from hanging with Danny a little after 6 yesterday evening I gave serious thought to stopping at the packie.

But the rum and orange juice cure is not generally meant to be taken in moderation. At the very least I would have had 3 stiff drinks, which would have netted me 1200 calories. More likely, I would have finished the rum and the orange juice, and blamed it on the cold.

So taking care of myself, instead, is the right way to go. Being able to do that, and having confidence that I will continue to do it, is all about having this blog to report to each day. It makes a huge difference to know that I am committed to my daily target of about 1750 calories, and likewise to know that I will report here with a truthful summary of the day's calorie events.

In the process, I am also, I think, strengthening my daily routines. Which beings me back to somebody I wanted to write a little bit about today.

Pat B. is one of my favorite people at my Thursday night Gamblers Anonymous meeting. During the 8:30 break this week she came over and sat down next to me. "You know, we should really talk some time about what it is like to be in this program when you live alone," she said.

Now I am going to jump tracks back from gambling to eating and health, and just say that Pat is about as healthy a 78-year-old as I have known. She just exudes good health, and she is an inspiration. She builds her life around healthy daily routines, and gets up every morning to a breakfast of yogurt, nuts and berries every morning between 5:30 and 6 a.m.

There's a beauty that people have, that radiates from the inside out, when they take good care of themselves from the inside out. Pat definitely has it, although she also has plenty of strength: witness the fact that she almost always joins the guys moving tables and chairs back into place after each meeting.

Living alone makes things easy sometimes, and more difficult other times. Right now I am embracing my solitude, and gaining a lot from it. Drawing inspiration from other people who have done very well at living healthy lives while living alone, like Pat B. and my sister Deborah, helps me with these gains.

So, nothing earthshaking here, but to put it very simply, one of the things that I hope to build in myself as I continue with Big Man Getting Smaller is a daily life whose foundation is based on healthy routines like the ones that are the cornerstones of Pat's days. And yesterday I picked up some berries and yogurt, rather than rum and orange juice.

Friday's Soundtrack

When I am back at full strength I'm planning to write a post about an inspiring friend of mine named Pat, but for now I'll just share some music: "Free Bird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd, hoping it will help me kick this scum-of-the-earth virus that has plagued me the past couple of days.

Saturday's Soundtrack

Here's one I'm guessing Pat B. remembers!

1 comments:

thoughtz said...

I try to imagine solitude... living as I do with my son, husband, 3 cats, 2 dogs and a parakeet. I wonder what it would be like to sit at my computer in the living room and write without having to block the loud TV not 10 feet away, or the sound of the snoring hubby in front of said TV...
I fantasize about someday living here alone... or perhaps in New York in a little studio apartment. I wonder what it would be like to never have to come home because someone expected me home... to go to a bar on the way home or to go to a friend's and spend the night without even having to call home to explain...
Donna

November 11, 2007 12:07 PM

Weekly Weigh-In: Snickering at the Scale

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.

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 11/7/2007: 2 million reasons to cut back to 2,300 calories

If you've ever wondered why there have been so many mentions of the Red Sox on this blog that is supposed to be about losing weight, yesterday the planets came into perfect alignment and the question was answered.

According to his "38 Pitches" blog, 40-year-old pitcher Curt Schilling agreed to a 1-year contract to remain with the Sox Monday night, and the contract includes a $2 million weight incentive.

Yes, $2 million. All he has to do for that $2 million is "make weight" at 6 randomly scheduled weigh-ins during the course of the year.

What a country, hmm? It does make good sense both for the player and the team, and my guess is that it will make a big difference in helping Schill to meet the other key incentive in his contract, which parcels out up to $4 million as he hits certain levels in innings pitched.

So, many people might be a little envious here and lament the fact that we all can't pick up a serious check just by having a salad or two, I am a caring, giving spirit (and a Sox fan for lo these past 50 years).

My mission here is to offer some assistance.

The challenge for Curt, I think, is the challenge that I've faced and so many men face when they are at that cusp between the end of their serious "jock" career and, er, whatever it is that comes afterward. Curt's facing it at 40, whereas most men face it in their 20s or 30s.

You believe that you can work your way back into shape just by punishing your body in the gym, on the field, etc. Changing what you eat is only a minor consideration. You think you can cut back on a beer or two, drop the desserts (at least until after midnight), and cover for it all by burning off a thousand calories a day at the gym. A guy who is in pretty good shape can make that work for a while, but he runs the risk of overtraining, especially when his body is beginning to break down a little bit to begin with.

So here's what Curt needs to do. He's 6'4" and he will turn 41 a week from today. Although his baseball bio says he weight 215, I suspect that's what he weighed when he was photographed for this 1988 New Britain Red Sox baseball card. My estimate is that he goes 275 to 280 now.

At 275, with moderate exercise, his basal metabolic rate to maintain that weight is 3,822 calories a day. If he cuts 1,500 calories a day from that figure, he can still eat over 2,300 calories a day, which allows for plenty of good steaks, chicken and seafood and even an occasional dessert or beer. (One or the other, not both).

It's not rocket science. It's that simple.

Do the math, dude.

At that rate, he'll lose 3 pounds a week (1500 x 7 / 3500 = 3) between now and mid-February, when pitchers and catchers report to Spring training. He'll weigh 235 then, he'll look great, and he'll be ready to pitch. He'll still be strong as a bull, and he'll have a little extra jingle in his pocket.

If he keeps it up through the season, he could get down to his rookie playing weight by the World Series and then in 2009, his first year of retirement, he'll be able to run the Boston Marathon with his lovely wife Shonda. Which will no doubt lead to another bloody sock.

The real benefit would be long-term, of course. Like me, Schill has a choice between going through the rest of his life as a load or as a healthy, relatively fit guy. As my friend Nick has mentioned, being 6'4" or 6'5" can cover for you only for a while. I fully expected to start seeing Schill at Subway and BoLoco when I am there to pick up my calorie-counted subs and burritos.

Go, Schill!

Update: As you are probably already aware, the point was moot. Schilling's arm problems kept him from ever rejoining the active Red Sox roster again, and he retired from baseball without -- one assumes -- ever getting paid for a weigh-in.

Rhythm, no blues

Filed by Steve on Friday, July 3, 2009

Terrific rhythm to my life in the last 24 hours:

• 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.
  

100 Laps Yesterday, and Younger Next Year

Given my schedule with my son Danny and the fact that the pool is open only at limited weekday times, my swimming routine is that I try for four days a week and sometimes only manage three days. I add in other exercise -- walking, running, maybe a little tennis with my pal this weekend? -- as I can, and it is working pretty well.

The structure of my workouts is to include one "long" day each week, with two or three other days on which I am trying to follow an old training principle from distance running, which is to add no more than about 10% to the distance of my workouts, week over week. That's been going great and I've gone from 16 laps my first day in the pool May 19 to half a mile (36 laps) on my regular workout days this week.

Yesterday was my long day. I did 100 laps. 80 laps without a rest, then I had to get out of the pool for a pit stop (and to stretch out a slight cramp in my toes), and then the final 20.

2500 yards.

1.42 miles.

I was in the pool for an hour and 20 minutes. If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would ever in my life spend an hour and 20 minutes swimming laps in an indoor pool I would have laughed out loud and said "you don't know me."

But I am enjoying it, thinking and imagining and ruminating as I swim, feeling better conditioned every day, and the endorphins, have I mentioned the endorphins? I went over to my pal's after my workout and sat on the sofa watching the Sox and she looked at my big silly endorphin-laced grin and said something along the lines of "You so goofy."

Yes indeed.

And that's not all.

You may recall that a few days ago I set a little side-goal alongside my usual cumulative goal of losing a pound a week (on which I am on track). Seeing that I had a shot at reaching it, I decided to make an effort to get "into the 240s" weight-wise by July 1.

So today I stepped aboard and weight in at 249.6, thanks in large part to my nice long workout in the pool yesterday.

It may come as no surprise to you that I like getting various kinds of positive feedback for my efforts. It helps to motivate me. Sometimes the feedback comes from others, and sometimes it comes from writing things down, keeping track, and charting my progress. It makes me feel good. I like to feel good, especially if in some small way I have earned it.

Getting into the 240s is good positive feedback, that will help me continue on this path. So is the progress of what I am able to accomplish in my long workouts over the past 4 weeks:

6/5 - 30 laps
6/11 - 36 laps (1/2 mile!)
6/16 - 48 laps (2/3 mile, no rests)
6/23 - 72 laps - 1 mile!
6/30 - 100 laps - 1.42 miles

And so are the endorphins.

And it's no accident that I got a haircut yesterday and I am going to the dentist this afternoon. You don't want to know how long it has been since I went to the dentist. But there's a trend here, and it's not all bad.

Without putting too fine a point on any of this, I'll just reference one of the section headings from a great book that I am reading on my Kindle thanks to my friend and college classmate Len Edgerly, he of the The Kindle Chronicles podcast. The book is entitled Younger Next Year: A Guide to Living Like 50 Until You're 80 and Beyond, by Chris Crowley and Harry Lodge. (It's also available in paperback). I don't usually cotton to such books, but this one is intelligent, packed with a lot more interesting information than most fitness tomes, and totally on my wavelength.

The section heading that caught my eye?

"Just Say No to Yasir Arafat"

Just so.

(P.S. - My friend Ned asked me to post the recent photograph above showing the gills that are growing on my body. I couldn't get a profile view which would have been clearer).

Related posts:

Getting Younger Every Year - and a Good Weekly Weigh-in

Romance Leads to Regimen Leads to Results

Welcome to Our World, Rose Helen Jackson!

No doubt there are a few readers who are squinting at that little fraction-of-an-inch patch of Rose's face and saying, "Awwww, isn't she cute!!??"

And I am sure she is very, very cute. But I am here to say that this little girl is also very lucky, because she was born last Tuesday to two wonderful and grateful parents, Jennifer and my old roomie Paul. A little over 8 pounds, or about twice as big as the puppy Danny got for his fourth birthday.

It's been a blessing to watch all of this unfold over the past couple of years, Rose, and I can't wait to meet you. And I am also looking forward to sharing some of the experiences of fatherhood with your Dad.

As for the Big Man Getting Smaller, fatherhood continues to provide one amazing experience after another. Today, Danny got poked in the nose in karate, and it bled. Second time for this, but a big difference from the first time, which was a little bit teary. Today he just sucked it up, went in to the bathroom to clean himself up, and went about his business. That's my boy.

And of course, Danny is at or near the top among the many reasons why I am hard at this quest for fitness and health and longevity. Who would want to miss and of what I experience day after day and month after month with kids like Danny and Kippy and Moriah and a grandson like Callum? Nobody in his right mind, that's who.

So I swam again today, 40 laps in the pool at 6 o'clock. After swimming half a mile (36 laps) without a rest, I finished the workout with two 50-yard freestyle (crawl) sprints in 64 and 63 seconds. The U.S. mens' record, a little over 21 seconds, is safe. But I felt like I was moving in the water, and it felt good.

And I also got on the scale for my weekly weigh-in, and it was good. Down 0.8 from last week to 250.6, still ahead of schedule, and within spittin' distance of my little side goal of getting down into the 240s by July 1.

It's been a hell of a week here in East Arlington....

Amazing week.

In a very intense and disciplined burst of energy Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I put the finishing touches on a book that I have been working on, off and on, for months. It is still going through its paces in terms of final proofing, documentation, backmatter, line-editing, and cover design (see image at right), but I feel great about the book and I am looking forward to seeing it in a Kindle edition by the end of this week and in paperback later in July.

Tuesday evening I swam a mile in the pool. 72 laps. I think I have already crowed about that, but, well. A mile. I started the swimming regimen on May 19 and prior to that I had now done anty lap-swimming, or any real swimming other than sloshing around in the ocean or a pond, for over 40 years. I am still feeling great from that, and I was back in the pool Thursday for 30 laps Thursday evening.

After I got out of the pool I picked up my pal at her office and we went to a party. Not just any party. The 60th birthday party of a great old friend from my undergraduate days hanging out at the South House Grille, wetting our whistles with a gallon jug of Vino Fino on Saturday nights, and other pursuits. During the past couple of years I have been blessed to enjoy wonderful times re-connecting with a great group of people from those years, and spending some time with Jim has been one of those treats. Being at his 60th birthday party was special, and the beer, the lobster, and the vintage music were damned good too. And I danced -- much to the astonishment of my pal, and dance partner.

All of that -- Thursday's 30 laps and the subsequent partying -- also occurred after I completed an intense day meeting Thursday's weekly deadline for my Kindle Nation email newsletter, with over 3,000 words of fresh content.

Then on Friday -- after my mid-day nap -- my pal and I took my son Danny, who will be 11 in six weeks, to a concert. David Archuleta, KSM, and Demi Lovato. I had noticed Archuleta's name before, only because Louise Archuleta -- no relative, I assume -- was one of the community leaders with whom I was honored to work as a community organizer in Danieldale, Texas, a little over 30 years ago. (We brought picnic baskets and blankets and occupied the offices of the City of Dallas; director of parks and recreation until we wona commitment of CDBG funding for what came to be known as Danieldale ACORN Park, but that's another story.) Otherwise, these were not names with which I had been familiar. Let's just say that while we had great fun at the concert, the experience did not knock the Stones and BB King at the Garden (November 1969) from the top spot among my all-time list of favorite concerts. And I lasted as long as Danny.

Tonight my pal and I are going to babysit my 15-month-old grandson Callum, and this afternoon after making some good progress on the cover design above I went out on a beautiful day and had a great sweaty 35-minute run -- something I can only do now and then, but which I enjoyed greatly on a day when the pool was closed.

And those are just the things I can tell you about.

A mile!

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!)
6/15 - 26 laps
6/16 - 48 laps (2/3 mile, no rests)
6/18 - 26 laps
6/19 - 26 laps
6/22 - 10 laps (Pool was overcrowded with 4 people swimming clockwise in each set of double lanes, collisions, and craziness, so I gave up to live another day after 10 frustrating laps)
6/23 - 72 laps - 1 mile! - I last swam a mile the day I got my junior lifesavers patch when I was 12. That was not recently.

Student of the month - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - Tuesday, October 23, 2007

JUNE 19, 2009: I drove down to my old stomping grounds last night for a nice dinner with a great friend and a terrific meeting back "home." The pillow was awfully comfortable when I first opened my eyes at 6:54 this morning, but somehow I managed to be in the pool an hour later for 26 laps. We endure. Happy Juneteenth!

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Student of the month

My daughters were never skeptics about their old man when they were little. They called me “Little Man” 20 years ago, for reasons that I am sure had nothing to do with this blog or its naming. I think it was a nice counterbalance for them, a way of taking me and my deep voice and authority and bringing me down to their scale. It always made me happy that they felt comfortable to do that. They are 29 and 27 now, and for many reasons they do not need to re-name me to bring me down to their scale.

My son, who is 9, is more of a skeptic. Not only about me but about nearly everything. That doesn’t keep him from applying himself very seriously, which is great. He does his homework without being told, he is very good to his mother, and he is the October 2007 Student of the Month at the American Martial Arts Academy in Belmont.

He takes some interest in my blog. I’m pretty sure he’d prefer if I looked like a guy on a SoloFlex commercial. I get no points for having looked like that 40 years ago.

But he did say “Good” when I told him the other day that I had hit “30” in pounds lost. 

Then he said, “You were in the 20s for a long time.”

True enough. I started at 273.4 on August 31. 

It took me 3 days to lose the first 10 pounds.

Then it took me 20 days to lose the second 10.

And 28 days to lose the third 10.

I explained that weight loss does slow down a little the longer you are at it.

Then I explained the more important reason, which may be evident in the food and exercise logs here but about which I may not have been properly analytic.

It’s the Red Sox. Sort of.

I’m not just making a silly excuse. About 8 months ago I stored my TV in the basement. It was taking up too much space, and I almost never watch TV. I grew up listening to the Sox on the radio, and I kind of think that baseball was made for the radio, or radio for baseball, or something.

But comes the postseason, and I am watching a good chunk of every game. When they were playing early enough I could watch at the gym while I was on the elliptical. Now they are starting all their games at about 8:30, and the gym closes at 6 or 7 on the weekend

So I have been a regular, game nights, at the Newtowne Grille in Porter Square. They know me there. A pint is $3 and 146 calories. The food has a few more calories. I have allowed it to put me over my daily calorie target a number of times. Not enough to gain weight, but to slow down the process of losing it.

So, there are only 7 games left. Some I will watch in other settings. But I will try to limit myself to just 2 or 3 at the Newtowne Grille, where I am sure they can survive without me counting their calories. If I stay on track with this, maybe it won’t take me 28 days to go through “my 30s.”

Tuesday's Soundtrack

"At the age of thirty-seven she realised she'd never
Ride through Paris in a sports car with the warm wind in her hair
So she let the phone keep ringing as she sat there softly singing
Pretty nursery rhymes shed memorised in her daddy's easy chair."



Marianne Faithfull, "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan"

"At the age of 37
she knew she'd found forever
as she rode along through Paris
with the warm wind in her hair"

Annie and I saw Marianne Faithfull perform live in a kind of recreated cabaret setting at the ART in Cambridge in the mid-90s. She's a remarkable performer, partly for the shocking transformation from what she first seemed when she appeared on British invasion shows as a teenager in the 60s, when one wasn't sure if she was anything more than Mick's arm candy. That was selling her way, way short.

2 numbers

I just came home from my pool workout, and since I had the time and wanted to break up my workday with a good workout I decided to make today my "long" day. I felt good when I got in the water, but I feel even better now: we're talking some serious endorphins for Dolphin Boy here.

There are two key numbers that sum up my experience in the pool tonight.

The first is the number of laps I did.

The second is the number of rests/recoveries between laps.

The second number was 0.

Yep, zilch, zed, zip, zero.

The first number was 48.

48 25-yard laps without a rest in between. 1200 yards. Two-thirds of a mile.

And I feel mahvelous, dude.

It is kind of amazing to me how great this swimming thing is working for me. My conditioning, breathing, and muscle tone are just kicking in at a higher level just about every time I jump in the water, and rather than kicking my rear end with nagging injuries, it makes me feel more limber every day.

That's all. There's pasta and broccoli boiling.

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!)
6/15 - 26 laps
6/16 - 48 laps (2/3 mile, no rests)

BMGS WEEKLY WEIGH-IN FOR 6/15/09 - EMBRACING THE FOCUS

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.

I ache in the places where I used to play, but as long as they keep playing the music I'll keep playing.

Sound and fury, signifying.... - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Oct 20, 2007

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.

A patsy to his own delusions - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Thursday, October 18, 2007

I was hesitant to “put myself out there” as I did yesterday with the Blues that have been playing as my soundtrack lately. I’m probably like a lot of guys in that whatever pain I feel when I am feeling pain never seems as bad as the pain that I imagine I will feel if I tell anyone I am feeling pain. Hope you kept up with me there.

Anyway, yeah, it wasn’t easy to fess up to that, but it brought me blessings:

· people I care about reaching back over to care about me. Anyone who thinks he doesn’t need some of that sometimes is just a patsy to his own delusions.

· me getting mindful enough, because I wrote a little bit about it, to figure out things I needed to do to improve my day, my week, my life. I took a nice long walk, had dinner with a friend, talked to my younger daughter on the phone, sent flowers and a teddy bear to my older daughter, ate right, applied myself a little better to my work, and went to bed at a decent hour.

Something else: I said in yesterday’s post that I might show up at my daughter’s cross-country meet (she coaches). A few minutes later I learned she had just had an appendicitis attack while on a mini-vacation on Amelia Island and is in the hospital in Jacksonville. She’s in the second trimester of her first pregnancy, so it’s nothing routine. But she’s okay, and baby, my first grandchild, is fine. So it is no accident that I was feeling blue yesterday morning and Sunday.

In the Port Huron Statement, they said “Everything is connected.” I don’t know if I buy that. I guess my version would be the tautology: “When we are connected, we are connected.”

Going to work out late afternoon, then drive down to Plainville for GA.



Thursday's Soundtrack

Singin, pickin, & politickin....

I don't apply a political litmus test to baseball players like Curt Schilling or singers like Kid Rock. But that doesn't mean that I can't be a little bit happy to hear my NPR station toutin a program this mornin by talkin about how Merle Haggard has become a Democrat. Used to be that the only things Merle really knew enough to sing about were lovin, fightin, prizzin and drinkin. Can't be a bad thing if he is addin to the list.

Old Coot Shocks the World! (Or, at least, pleases himself....)

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 yards 72 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.

Sometimes when you start walking you do not know where you will end up until you arrive there. So, too, with writing. Sometimes. When you start.

6.10.2009: File this under Life is Good. Whatever ailed me yesterday has moved on to bother someone else. 24 strong laps in the pool this afternoon, and for the first time I broke it into 4-lap segments rather than 2-lap segments. Wind and strength are improving with each workout, it feels like. And Amazon shipped my Kindle DX today.

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - October 17, 2007

The last few days have revealed a slight dip in the usually relentless sugary cheeriness of the Big Man Getting Smaller. Surely this can’t be a result of the Sox being down 3 games to 1 in the ALCS, can it?

That may be a part of it, in a mix with being a little tired, working too hard, working out too hard, missing people who are close to me, listening to too many sad songs, and so forth. It’s always something.

So today I’ll get out of the house a little and take a walk, talk to my daughter Kippy and best friend, maybe even take a drive out to Waltham for my daughter Moriah’s cross-country meet this afternoon.

Tomorrow I’m heading down to Plainville for a GA meeting to celebrate the 2-year anniversaries of two very good friends. I’m bringing the cake, and it looks like it will be a good one, from the picture on the bakery website.

I’ve been basically on course with the regimen of BMGS, even though I have gained a pound and a half, so I am confident that my progress here will continue. No workout yesterday, which affects my day to day weight, no doubt.

Come to think of it, I haven’t been to a GA meeting in 12 days, which is the longest I have been without one in over a year. This is no accident. Ever notice how it is always the little things?

The point, I guess, is that the things that work in our lives don’t just work for what we intend them for. Often they work in all kinds of other ways.

I started going to GA 8 ½ years ago because I had to deal with an enormous problem I had with the stock market, with gambling, and with my life. GA was a great fix for that problem, but it also became, over time, a really important part of my ability to keep my life in general on an even keel, to keep moving forward, to be the man I want to be, the father I want to be, the friend I want to be.

So, another person might say, “Fine, you haven’t been to a meeting in 12 days, but you haven’t gambled, so no problemo, right?”

But I have a better vantage point. I’m the guy who is living inside this body (that is 10% smaller than it was 7 weeks ago), and I sense a more generalized cost to my failure to make a meeting in the past week.

My regular Plainville GA meeting is a kind of home to me, complete with a kind of family. I need to be there. Tomorrow night, I will be there. With the cake. (Of which, by the way, I absolutely intend to have a piece.)

Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if the effin Sox could step up and earn their considerable keep tomorrow evening while I am at the meeting!

Monday's sound track

Whoa.

Unfortunately I can't embed this one in the site the way I usually do, but this man just sings the hell out of this song. I stopped keeping up with the latest in country music around the time I left Texas in '78, so I don't know a thing about Josh Turner, but he knows how to cover this old George Jones song. It's enough to make a happy man sad or a sad man sing.

1 comments:

Colt Coeur said...

Poppa,
I am so proud of you!
You are so wise and I love how actively, and aggressively(!), you seek greater peace and wisdom. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself on your journey. The words and the music are great sources of strength and inspiration for many I am sure.

Negative Splits, on a Bloody Mary Morning

After I mentioned to my daughter Kip that I'd been nursing a headache this morning, I joked that "a couple of Bloody Marys and I should be good to go." And there have been mornings that I began with "the hair of the dog," as we say. I would even go so far as to say that I may remember some of them fondly.

It's just that none of them have come in the last 30 years. And that's a good thing.

I didn't drink a drop last night, which means that last night was like most nights for me. I have beer perhaps half a dozen times a month, and once in a blue moon I'll chase it with a second. But the headache that I felt when I woke up about 5:30 this morning after a solid eight hours could have done justice to many a morning from my wayward youth.

Second cup of coffee, third cup, and that bad head was still with me. Ate some breakfast, didn't matter. The time when I should have left to get to the pool for my weekday morning swimming regimen came and went. There would be another adult swim period at 5 pm, and maybe I could manage that.

Then a little after 9, as I was beginning to dip a toe reluctantly into the day's work, I remembered another long-ago antidote to a hangover. When I was 20 there were occasional weekend mornings when I would wake with a throbbing head and go out for a ten-mile run. (Or maybe it was a five-mile run that felt like ten miles). I'm sure there were mornings even back then when I could not have managed it, but when I could, it have a marvelous effect not only on how I felt immediately, but on how I felt all the rest of the day. Suggesting that endorphins may be a better antidote than the hair of any dog, even on that bit you the night before.

Anyway, I was noticing through the day yesterday, after my 24 laps in the morning, that I have been feeling very good, and more limber than usual, the past few days. The swimming is doing its job -- Big Man Getting Smaller is also, for now at least, Old Coot Feeling Younger. And so, in a bit of a nostalgic nod to those mornings when I was 20, I pulled a pair of shorts on, laced up my tennies, and headed out for a run.

I don't want to overstate this. It was a slow run, be sure of that. But the reason I have been swimming in BMGS 2.0 is that I have not been able to get run enough to get sufficient exercise, due to the various joint, bone, and muscle injuries that I acquired over the course of several decades of overdoing the running, including half a dozen marathons, plenty of training, and 6-minute miles and 38-minute 5-milers as a late-40s Clydesdale competitor.

So I ran slowly for half an hour. It felt great. From my house down to the bike trail along Spy Pond and up a few streets to Pleasant Street, and back. All running, no walking, and I was never breathing hard.

And I suspect my friend Ned may be the only reader here who will get the significance of this, but when I got to my house on the way back I had to run another 50 yards to make the "back" of the out-and-back the same time-length as the "out." That means I did "negative splits," which means that I was going faster on the way back than the way out, which means that my creaky legs and knees and ankles and hips were loosening up as I progressed.

I know better than to think I could do this every day. The swimming is still the key. There are no final victories, especially at my age. But there are little tiny victories along the way, and I take great satisfaction in them.