Week 2 - Learning From Past Mistakes

I was recently asked how this time will differ from the many that have come before. The answers themselves are simple, but placing them into practice have proven to be quite difficult. I feel I've tried every diet plan / workout regimen / miracle cure available, and though that may not be entirely true, I now have a fairly good grasp of what works for me and what doesn't. I have been successful at losing weight in the past, but adhering to the plan(s) seem to be the issue. After the initial excitement has subsided, it becomes difficult to cement these new habits as permanent fixtures of daily life. Whether it's following a strict eating plan or hammering out a daily workout routine, the disconnect occurs when you realize that this has to continue forever. That's a long time, and there's no way that you're going to find 2 hours a day to hit the gym, or be restricted to leafy greens for the remainder of your days. My previous solutions were to gradually phase out these good habits and completely replace them with my old ones, much like the other 90% of the overweight populous that just can't seem to keep the weight off once it's gone. So the cycle continued, trying something new that worked for a while, and then back to the old ways. The secret to my success may lie in the knowledge that I've gained over all of this heartbreaking trail and error. I've tended to be an "all or nothing" type of person, obsessing about food portions and forcing myself on the treadmill on a daily basis. What I need to do is strike a perfect balance between proper eating and staying active, again much easier said than done. Now that winter is in full swing, I'm able to vary my cardio by going for a skate outside to compliment my weekly hockey games. A day away from the treadmill, yet still getting a fun workout, almost feels like a day off. As for the food issue, I'm still struggling to find that balance between health, variety and being satisfied with my meals. Too much of the same food can be just as uninspiring as running in place for days on end, so I try to experience something different on a weekly basis. Variety is the spice of life.

I haven't really been privy to a comment about my weight for a while now. Perhaps they've slipped by unheard, or I've remained oblivious, but I can't recall the last. Recently, someone at work made light of my size, and as hundreds of comments rocketed through my head to venomously spit back in their direction, I decided to take the high road and leave them be. The context of the jab was along the lines of, "we won't be taking you out for food or anything, that would be out of the budget", and while I'm sure the person launching that barb thought nothing of it, it truthfully bothered me. It hasn't affected me in a positive or negative way regarding my eating or activity, and I'm taking that as a good thing. I'll file it away as small amount of extra motivation to succeed, but this person likely isn't worth the time or storage space.

Over the course of the week I've been able to vary my workouts enough to keep me active on a daily basis. The treadmill actually broke down mid-stride on one evening, leaving me to clumsily fumble around, trying to find the source of the problem as my heart was throttling away at the peak of its limits. A frustrating time, but level heads prevailed the next day, and it's ready for the next stationary adventure. In the interim, I tried to head outside for a skate, but it's been unseasonably warm, the ice was in poor shape. I did my best to get my heart racing, and I spent more time dodging potholes than in full stride. Either way, the fact remains that there's more options available than just "the hamster wheel", and I'm not going to restrict myself to any one exercise.

Underway into another attempt at losing the weight, and it feels right this time. Not forced at all, not having to psych myself up for physical activity, or psych myself out of eating a variety of good food. Is this the last arc in the story? The Final Chapter? I'm not going say yes or no, but I'll do all that I can to ensure that it just may be.

Happy Non-Denominational Winter Holiday to all, and to all a good night!

Week 1 - New Beginnings

The title is not a typo. I've taken some time to re-evaluate all that has happened over the past three months and file it away as a life experience. A great experience. I've made new friends, met people with similar goals and dreams, and inspired others to pick up the crusade for healthier living and fitness. In doing so, however, I lost sight of my own purpose, my own focus. As I began to document my most recent struggles, the same people I'd initially inspired reached out to me, offering advice that struck a striking similarity to the words I had spoken to them only a few months prior. It was a much needed wake-up call. Family and friends alike, extending a helping hand to get me back on my feet, a reminder that there's always hope, always another chance to try again. It turns out that I wasn't yet mentally prepared to deal with the ever-mounting challenges, my over-analytical nature choosing to create mountains out of molehills. My mind began to sabotage itself into thinking that not only did I not want to do this, but that I was no longer capable. It was as if I drifted away from the reality of the situation to hide from the world. Having made my issues public, however, didn't allow that mindset to fully grab a hold of me. There was nowhere for me to hide from the barrage of support from family, friends, and loyal readers, and for that I am eternally grateful.

I had discovered that I was putting FAR too much pressure on myself to not fail, rather than focusing on being successful. Negative thinking greatly hinders achieving a positive outcome, and I was getting down on myself for every misstep that was being made. It got to the point where I wouldn't even try anymore, because I had already defeated myself in my mind. I had forgotten that I actually enjoy being active and exercising, because I'd convinced myself it was just too difficult, and I shouldn't bother since I'd be much happier just lying on the couch for the evening. I needed to inspire myself again, this time I've enlisted the help of some people.

I found that I'm best motivated when I'm being pushed by an outside source. A competitor, a competition. Firstly, I'll start with the friendly competition. Someone I've met through my writings is nearing the homestretch, and we've put our pride on the line. I'm sure by the time of this writing he's likely surpassed me, but we're approximately the same weight (though he's taller than me), and we have very similar goals. We'll both be running in the Manitoba Marathon this summer (likely the 1/2 again for me), and we would both like to weigh around the same when the loss finally settles on a number. Check out his blog here, he's a great inspiration.

Secondly, some contests with more on the line than just getting healthy. My lovely wife has agreed to tackle her own demons and fully make this a family affair, involving the two of us. The premise is simple, whoever between the two of us can lose the highest percentage of weight by February 3rd, 2008 will emerge victorious. No need to discuss the finer details of the prizes here, but let's just say that I'm VERY motivated to win. Actually, let's say I don't much care for ballet and leave it at that. After the final day passes, we'll begin yet another round of competition with similar rules. It's always much easier to stay motivated when you're competing with a loved one in the same household. And as an offshoot, I've got a side bet with another friend with the same rules and regulations attached. Thankfully there's no ballet trip on the line, but the stakes are still high enough to keep me honest. I'm trying to get my brother involved, and my wife and I are considering getting a group of people together for the next round. It's a lot of fun so far, and I think immersing even more people would be great.

So that's about it for now, starting over again has never felt so good.

Day 76-82 - In Search Of Motivation, and The Winter Blahs

My apologies for the delay in posting. It's been a very busy time for me, and since this blog is very much a hobby, it's had to fall to a weekly update, likely every Friday. But it's just starting to get interesting...

I've officially lapsed. Apart from my weekly hockey games, I haven't been able to keep myself active. Those I've spoken with seem to blame the weather. It's unseasonably cold right now, and winter seems to have a firm, yet premature grip on the city. The general consensus is that I'm going into "hibernation mode", and will have to literally force myself to be active for the coming months. I've been fortunate enough to have inspired so many people, but I've forgotten to keep myself constantly motivated. I've fallen back into some of the "old me" habits that had recently been a distant memory, but the positive spin on this whole situation is that I've caught myself before I spiraled completely out of control. The problem of motivation still remains. It's so easy to just flop on the couch and stare at the flickering lights emitting from the television as the evenings waste away into oblivion. I need to take responsibility for my (lack of) actions, and just compel myself to become addicted to working out again. My life seems to revolve around attempting to control and focus my addictive personality on beneficial activities, all the while fighting to keep the sloth-like self-destruction at bay. Saying that this is a difficult balancing act would be a gross understatement.

My food intake has still been fairly honest, though the weekends are still a difficult time. I have had some great ideas on how to control my poor weekend choices, and the truth is, I haven't implemented them. This upcoming weekend will once again mark a new beginning, and I will prepare the next day's food the evening prior. I found myself heading to the pantry or fridge every time I felt hunger, which seems to be a constant state of operation for me. Upon closer examination, I actually believe it to be more of a habitual action than one driven by actual hunger. If I felt bored, I again turned to food to entertain myself, not for nourishment. Trying to undo all of these habits that I've developed over decades seems to be a daunting task, but I feel if I can stay on top of it and not allow a busy schedule to disrupt my overall plan, things should be getting positive again. This is a very strong instinct that I'm fighting against, me against myself, and there can only be one winner. I could throw out all the cheesy clichés here, but it all comes down to one point. I had given up on myself, without even knowing it. And it happened so gradually, it's as if there are forces working against me at every turn. And though I know they are there, I've allowed them to take advantage of me once again. My "go-get-em" attitude has been exchanged for "sit-and-rest-and-maybe-have-a-nap".

This isn't a made-for-TV drama, or even a reality show. There's no cameras following and judging my every move, putting much needed pressure on myself to succeed. This is me trying and failing and trying and failing in real time. In real life. And in real life there isn't always the happy ending you expect. There are setbacks and disappointments, moments of weakness, and of clarity. There's no script written with me emerging the victor, triumphantly climbing the steps of City Hall and pumping my fist in the air as my body fades to silhouette and the credits roll. Even when I DO reach my goal, I'll still have to get up the next day and continue to work hard. If there's any solace I can take from this, it's that the end is NOT yet written, and I still have a chance to make this happen. I've found a way to draw inspiration from myself, and am able to start the next chapter. Emotionally battered and bruised of my own volition, I'm ready to pick up the pieces and give this another shot. I am the author of this story, and I'm not ready to pen the conclusion or write myself out of this tale quite yet. I want the happy ending, and I'm going to have to earn it.

Day 69-75 - Strong Inside And Out, and Avoiding The Inevitable

It started with a sniffle. I thought nothing of it, as we were visiting with friends that have two cats, both of which I have allergies to. Mountains of tissue later, we headed home, but the next morning I was still congested. I attributed it to the clothes I had left on the floor, likely still full of cat dander, but after tidying up a little I still felt stuffed. We actually went back to the same friends' house the next day, and once again I left behind a towering mound of used tissues. However, the next morning I felt chilled, stuffed and had a cough. A COLD. Directly after a weekend of pumping myself up to begin anew with a steady workout regime, I'm forced to continue to "take it easy" with a bowl of soup and a blanket. Fortunately for me, all of this healthy eating has promoted a tip-top immune system, allowing for a speedy recovery. What usually would have provided a nagging cough, fatigue, and plugged sinuses for a week or even more, had subsided in a matter of days, just in time for my next hockey game. So, though I may have lost a week of physical activity, my body has responded very well to fighting off a potentially lengthy and annoying cold. I'm very thankful that I've been very consistent in eating well for myself, otherwise this may have been a case of serious derailment to accompany my sickness. My appetite actually seemed to increase for the few days that I was sick, but instead of reaching for the old "comfort food", I hit up the fridge for veggies, fruits, and soups. My speedy recovery also means that I can get back on my workout routine without too much of a setback. I don't expect a monumental weight loss for this week, but that doesn't mean that I'm going to let up.

This upcoming weekend is going to be a tough one. We've got two local sports teams (college and professional) competing for two national championships, and with that comes the inevitable "parties". The limits of my will power have been tested in the past, but this will be a monumental challenge. Pizza, chips, dips, cookies, cake, and liquor. Some of these items no longer interest me the way they once did, as I've actually managed to loosen their salty grip from around my taste buds. However, when all of your other senses are heightened by the heat of the moment (yes, I just made an "Asia" reference), the intoxicating aroma of that pizza can sometimes override any sort of logical decisions or plans you may have had. Even just watching the other attendees habitually shovel fistfuls of salty crunchits into their mouths can be contagious, as they blindly pass the bowl your way while unintelligibly mumbling something resembling "pfftshndhwmah" as bits of chip fly past their lips and onto their team's jersey. It's far too easy too fall into the same trance, mash as many crunchy snacks into your mouth as you can, and pass it on. This time, I'll be looking to just pass the bowl without sampling. Complete deprivation is said to be an unhealthy tactic, but for me it's almost completely necessary. I still don't have the ability to feel satisfied with a small amount, once I get a taste I crave more until there is none to be had. I'm better off abstaining, and we'll see how that goes.

Because of a generally bed-ridden week, I was left with very little to talk about.  Though I'll surely return next week to regale you with the many ups-and-downs that continue to plague my journey.  Either way, it's going to be a great weekend, followed by a great week. My plan is to be fully in the workout groove starting with a solid hockey game and building from there. My advice for the upcoming cold and flu season is to eat your fruits and veggies, have some soup, and a good book on hand.  It worked for me.

Day 62-68 - A Helpful Visit, The Wonders Of Soup, and A Plan For The Weekends

I paid a visit to my Naturopath, and it was fantastic. We talked about what I needed to do to continue on a path of success, and some physical goals that I could set for myself. I wasn't sure if I'd be ready for a full marathon this coming summer, but he seemed confident that I could work my way up to it. There's a half marathon in April, then the big event in June where I would likely run the half again. Then, if I was feeling up to it, I could attempt an Autumn marathon. The weather would be more appropriate for a first-timer, and I'd have a good grasp on my abilities after the two halves. It was an excellent gameplan, in theory, but the reality of it is that I haven't been on the treadmill or out pounding the pavement in almost two weeks. Having short term events or goals will help me get motivated to get active, but it seems that it's extremely difficult to start again once stopped. I can formulate any excuse to get out of a workout, even though I know how beneficial they are, and how great I feel afterwards. I'm still playing hockey once a week, and performing better with each passing game, but it's the time in between games where I have to keep pushing myself to improve. I've scheduled another appointment in three weeks, and my short term goal is to see the end of the 240's by then. Completely attainable and realistic, but it will require some effort on my part. I think after the next game, I'll be in the right mindset to get those running shoes back on, and put forth the consistent effort I know I'm capable of. It's amazing how quickly I've forgotten the positive boost I get from a workout. Time for a reminder. Especially if I'm going to be doing the 1/2 marathon in April.

Soup isn't really a food I've visited too often. My Mom used to brew up some classic chicken noodle when I was feeling a little under the weather, but other than that, I haven't been exposed to the world of soups. Given the option of soup or salad to accompany a meal over the years, I've always taken salad. But my eyes have been opened to the culinary delights of a simple soup. I've been getting the low-sodium, ready-to-serve, canned soups, usually jammed with veggies, but I think it's high time to get adventurous and construct my own. I don't mind cooking at all, and soup seems as though it would be a lot less labour-intensive than my now famous egg-bake. A precision crafted bowl of homemade soup can be just as hearty and filling as any meal, with much less calories. So, I've given myself some homework for the upcoming week, and it's time to raid the produce section. I still get really excited about food and eating, but it's what I choose to take in that's making the difference. I can slam back a huge bowl of soup, be completely satisfied, and not feel guilty about it at all.

Since I began to keep track of my food intake and (lack of) exercise, I've noticed that the weekends are easily the toughest part of my schedule. It was likely the genesis of skipping a workout here and there, leading to this past stretch of inactivity. It's also still very difficult to regulate my intake without having those five scheduled break times found throughout the work week. To my surprise, overeating hasn't been a real issue, it's been getting enough vitamin-rich foods frequently through the day. I will go from 5 small meals on the weekdays to 2 larger meals on the weekends, and I'm thinking I should "pack a lunch" on the weekends as well. Prepare my food for the next day, just as I do during the work week. If I head out of the house for an errand, I can then grab a small bag of pre-cut peppers or carrots for the afternoon. It seems to be an ever-evolving process, constantly tweaking and adjusting my daily routine to fit.

Another week behind me, and that number keeps heading in the right direction. And though I've been relatively inactive for a little while, I'm going to have to flat out force myself to get active again. I find that the hardest part about getting going, is getting going. I could have my shoes fully tied and still not want to do it, but as soon as I make that first step, I'm fully committed to the end. It's just that first step I have to concern myself with, the rest will simply take care of itself.

Day 58-61 - Back On Track, Water Is My Friend, and Lots Of Support

Having fully recovered from the weekend that was, I picked myself up and got back on track. Not necessarily back to the fully intense workouts from last week and prior, still easing myself into it. I started a food and workout diary, (posted in the links at the top of the page), and have already noticed a difference in my daily routine. I'm no longer allowing myself those "here and there" nibbles that were once again creeping their way back into my life. It's actually quite remarkable how quickly these old habits can return, given the chance. It's a constant war between instinct and logic, and my self-accountability seems to have flattened the latest bump in the road, bringing me back to a more cognizant state. Now that nearly every aspect of my daily life is being recorded, I've got to be much more aware of what I'm doing and eating. The moment I stop thinking about that, I regress to an instinctive, food-gathering type of behaviour, that always seems to end up badly.

Since beginning my food journal, I noticed one major ingredient that was missing from my daily regimen. I hadn't been taking in a regular amount of water, and it left me wanting to snack more often throughout the day and evening. In reality, I was likely craving fluids, but my body and mind were compelled to feed in place of downing a tall glass of water. Altering that one small, but crucial, ingredient has suspended any desire to snack and nibble, and I hope it can stay that way. I almost feel reborn, as if I've been given yet another chance, having learned from my mistakes of the past months. I can fall victim to trying too hard, doing too much, and far too quickly. I'll brew up an idea, implement it in haste, and then realize it wasn't such a good idea after all, usually a little too late. I get excited at the possibilities without fully analyzing and addressing potential problems. It's strange because I'll usually over-analyze any other situation before setting it in motion, yet I don't give myself the same consideration. Impulsively Analytical. I just made that up.

Just when I am feeling short on inspiration, I get a barrage of messages, e-mails, and comments from family, friends, and readers. I must say I've been a little overwhelmed with the amount of support I've been receiving as of late, but it is greatly appreciated. Timing is certainly everything, and when I'm presented with a personal challenge, there always seems to be someone there to help pick me up, and say just the right thing at the right moment. I'm very fortunate to have such caring friends and family, and this journal has even restored some of my faith in humanity. Complete strangers facing similar obstacles, offering their support in any way they can. It's amazing what a common bond can do to bring people together, and I'm thankful to each and every person that has taken even one moment to read my thoughts, with an extra thanks to those that extend their support through their kind words and generous actions. What seemed like a nearly impossible task is becoming more of a reality with each passing day. It would have been an unthinkable mission to tackle this on my own, and when I finally do attain my goals, the party's at our house.

Day 55-57 - The Wheels Come Off, Time To Count, and Easier Said Than Done

Though my weekly weigh-in does not yet reflect it, I comfortably slipped into my old routine this past weekend. Sweets, salty snacks, gin and juice, late nights, and a sedentary session that left my legs feeling atrophied. Much fun was had by all, but after the dust settled and all of our guests had shuffled off into the darkness, I was left feeling very disappointed. What was fun at the time proved to be physically and mentally detrimental, and though I knew all along that it wasn't a good idea, I still followed through on any and all temptations. Three days of zero physical activity, paired up with the return of some reprehensible eating habits, has led to a fatigued, unhappy, and slightly bloated individual. And now the most difficult part of this whole situation seems to be getting back up, dusting myself off, and continuing with my plan. It's far too easy to just accept defeat for the umpteenth time and continue this vicious cycle. Writing this journal is specifically geared to cope with situations like this. Stepping back from the situation, I could see myself easily settling into my old ways for the next few weeks, until the next brilliant revelation. But maybe this time the revelation wouldn't hit me for a few months instead. That could very well leave me gasping for breath and clutching my chest as I vault up the stairs to answer the phone. Setbacks are an inevitable part of this process. A failed test of will should not mark the end of the road, but rather initiate a new beginning. A chance to prove that I'm strong enough to handle these lapses by following it up with a renewed desire to better myself. But if I don't put forth the effort, I've relinquished my right to complain. Easier said than done.

3500 calories a week. 500 per day. The difference between gaining a pound of fat and losing one. I haven't been counting my calorie intake, but I think now would be as good a time as any to start. By my calculations, I'll need between 1600-1800 calories per day. When you bring it down to the basics, weight control is an issue of mathematics. I've mentioned it before, but the formula is simple. Expend more calories than you take in. Again, easier said than done.

I could go into great detail about every little thing I did wrong this past weekend, but I don't want to dwell on it. It was an addiction-packed, sugar-fueled set of days that I won't be repeating any time soon. I may be short on words today, as this entry has served as more of a confessional than an inspiration, but I'm here to prove that I'm not going to let a few days of failure derail me from my objective. I will let my actions speak for themselves. I'm willing to learn from my mistakes, not be discouraged by them, but that, once again, is easier said than done. Who said this was going to be easy?

Day 51-54 - A Little Help, It's All Relative, and Actively Being Lazy

When does it become acceptable to mention to someone that they're getting a little heavy? If it had been mentioned to me that I looked like I was gaining weight, I may have taken action before my waist size hit the half-century mark. Not that I'm completely relying on the observations of others to affect my decisions, but sometimes all it takes is a good kick in the pants. The last time I recall a comment being made regarding my weight, it was from a complete stranger. I was around the 295-300 mark for the second time. My wife and I were out for a walk, and a random cretin thought it would be amusing to comment on my weight as he drove by. The actual remark escapes me, but it affected me to the point of initiating an effort to be more active and healthy. A casual observer, likely with more insecurities than myself, made a flippant and hurtful observation in an attempt to dishearten me, but it did the opposite. For some reason, that moment is etched in my memory, and drives me to succeed. When I look at old pictures of my heavier self I still see that image as accurate today, that there hasn't been much change at all. Preposterous, I know. Some of those pics were over 60 pounds ago, yet I don't feel as though I've made a significant transformation. However, when I look at pictures of myself from not that long ago, in the 220's, I notice how much weight I've gained since then. I have to overcome that "glass half empty" mentality, where I'm continually using negative reinforcement to motivate myself. My loving wife has never once drawn attention to my size. Even in our mentally underdeveloped younger years when we would occasionally spit venom at each other, she would never use my obesity as a personal attack. As we reflected on these same pictures from our past, she remarked at the tremendous transformation. When I was at maximum density, the word "fat" was never uttered by her, but looking back, we both freely comment on my vast waistline. So to answer my initial question: When does it become acceptable to mention to someone that they're getting a little heavy? Apparently after they lose weight. Pretzel logic, once again.

I've got a friend that's a little shorter than me, and weighs around 220. He'd be the first to admit that he's a little out-of-shape, but comfortable. He gets ribbed for having a bit of a tummy, but it doesn't get to him, because if he really wanted to lose the "muffin-top" it wouldn't be much of a problem. Cut to me, 30 pounds heavier, and people tell me I look "great". That's really not fair to either of us, but it seems to be the way it is. Sure our bodies display our excess baggage differently, and our muscle development probably differs from each other, but is it legitimate for one person to be vilified and the other praised? I am striving to achieve the same number that he currently resides at, but when I arrive there, there will be celebration. When he arrived at 220, there was no party to be had. I fully realize how ridiculous this may sound, but there are valid points to be had. This comparison has once again reaffirmed why the scale should not solely affect my opinion of myself. I'm striving towards a goal, and that goal does involve a certain number, but I'm finding smaller goals along the way that are much more pertinent. Such as wearing a smaller size of pants, revisiting a shirt that hasn't fit for a while, running up the stairs without gasping for breath, or staying in the ice for one more shift than last game. I remind myself that I've been placing far too much importance on that number, but soon after I find myself relying on it for gratification. It's the last place I should be turning for inspiration, because I always come away from the scale thinking, "There's a long way to go.". I may sound like a broken record, but if I don't keep reminding myself that it's about how I feel, I'll fall back into the cycle of disappointment that has plagued me throughout my life. I have no reason to be upset with myself, but I have to make a point of not pummeling myself into the ground for every minor setback I may face.

It's been lazy around the house this past week. As this journal is a brutally honest account of my progress, I must state, for the record, that I've performed nearly zero physical activity this past week. I'm not happy about it, but fatigue has been occupying most of my waking hours. I could point a finger at many reasons why it has been that way, but it all boils down to motivation. I've been waking up tired, coming home tired, and nodding off on the couch. All it will take is one good night's rest to spring my body back into action, or perhaps a brisk game of hockey. What I do know, however, is that I can't remain dormant for long, for fear that I'll fall back into my old routines. The dread of failure is so powerful, so intense, that it provokes me to snap out of any self-loathing funk that I may be in. I've said it before, and no matter how cliché it is, I'll say it again. Failure is not an option. I had a nice, relaxing week, but it's time to bear down again for the next big push.

Day 48-50 - Halloween Is Evil and Inspiration From Out Of Nowhere

I'm under 250. It took what seemed like an eternity to arrive, and I'm not taking any time to dwell. A brief pat on the back is all I'm willing to give myself. As pleased as I was to see a number in the 240's, I knew that if I took too much time to enjoy the moment, I could easily slip into the 250's again in the blink of an eye. This is a permanent change, the 250's are a memory, and it's time to focus on the next benchmark.

With Halloween quickly approaching, I was hoping to simply avoid handing out candies to all the kids this year. I generally fall victim to one of the most common blunders when distributing the treats to the costumed youngsters, by giving them two or three and taking one for myself. By the end of the night, we could have counted how many visitors we had by simply tallying the empty wrappers. And that's not taking into account the days leading up to the 31st. We would buy a small box of bite sized treats for our own use, only to bring home another, and then another. The big day would arrive, and we would have go out to get another box for the evening, this one slightly larger in order to accommodate the flood of ankle-biters, only to be left with even more treats than the smaller box would have provided. This year, we've refrained from the frequent stockpiling and gorging, and the small amount we purchased looks as though it will last. I can't say that I've been completely innocent, but it's a definite improvement over past years. My goal for this week is to simply maintain my weight, by balancing these little treats with even more activity. It's almost sickening to think of how much sugar I would have ingested had my intake remained the same as before. The small amount that I've already allowed myself has already caused me to wake up with a "sugar hangover", and guaranteed a limit on my confectionery desires. It's interesting how something that had such a tight grip on me has become easier to ration and even resist. The last caller of the night will get a hearty helping, as there'll be no leftovers this year.

I spent this past weekend helping out at my friend's booth at a convention. I was very much out of my element, and it allowed me to remain a spectator, a fly on the wall. There were the occasional few that would come by and strike up a conversation that I could participate in, but for the most part I had very little knowledge to share. I used the opportunity to interact with people I may not ordinarily have had the chance to, and learn a few things. Not necessarily about what they do, but why they do it. I knew that I would be lost trying to converse, so I spent most of the weekend listening. While clusters of strange names and foreign terminology rocketed past my ears, I found myself getting caught up in, and excited by what they were saying, though I may have had no idea what they were talking about. The passion that these people exhibited for their craft was commendable, and it was contagious. I felt enthusiastic, because they were all so zealous in how they spoke, and it moved me to approach my own goals with more fervor than ever. And though they likely had no inkling of it, they taught me to approach my desires with a more open mind and light heart. I knew it was going to be an interesting weekend, but I wasn't expecting to come away from it feeling invigorated about my desires of fitness and good health. Sometimes the greatest motivation can come from the most unlikely of sources.

Having been on my feet for hours upon hours this past weekend, I didn't get much cardio accomplished, but I still felt good about how far I've progressed over these past 50 days. 12 pounds down in a 7 week span has me on a 1.5lb/week pace, which seems very respectable. The trend is heading in the right direction, and I generally feel good. My clothes are starting to feel a little loose, and it helps that the weather has allowed me to cover up with my large sweaters again. I know they're not always flattering, but they're comfortable. Now that yet another week is underway, I've got to keep my workout routine as consistent as ever, and have my mind focused on keeping my body honest. The 230's aren't as far away as I think.

Day 44-47 - Eating At Restaurants and A New Addiction

I've discovered over the course of my life so far, that I possess quite an addictive personality. Once I get my mind focused on something, it utterly consumes me. I've lived a life of excess because of it, small doses of anything rarely satiate me, and I've had to learn to exercise moderation in every aspect of my life. I've been good with the food and drink up to now, with the occasional blip of weakness, but they are few and far between. I've even cut down my computer time substantially in the evenings. However, a new addiction has presented itself recently. Something I didn't even think was possible, but knowing how I operate, nothing is surprising anymore. I've become addicted to weighing myself, even though it's a horribly frustrating and unsatisfying experience. When I decided to stop weighing myself on a daily basis because of it's detrimental effect on my psyche, the first night and next day were not a problem. But then my mind began to wander, and I felt the need to step on the scale 2 days after I stopped. "Why did I do that?", I thought aloud. Another 2 days passed, and I was once again jonesing to check my weight. I refrained, but soon the desire became too great and I submitted, again drawing frustration from the result. I've enlisted the help of my lovely wife for this one, and I'm having her hide the scale. Only allowing it's use once a week is the stipulation, and I'm going to have to deal with that. I'm sure this will simply be a case of "out of sight, out of mind".

I was faced with another food challenge recently. I was offered the chance to head out to a pizza place for lunch, which I initially resisted due to all the temptations that particular restaurant holds for me. (Pizza is my Kryptonite. If you've never sampled a Perogy Pizza, it may change your life.) All it took to convince me to go was a quick squint and a shrug of the shoulders from my co-workers. "Come on!", I was urged. I thought that I was doomed, but as I perused the menu, I found a grilled chicken sandwich and soup. My customary order would have been a pizza of some sort, or barring that, a baked pasta dish accompanied by a Caesar salad. I think someone should change the name of the Caesar salad, as it is very misleading. The word "salad" immediately brings to mind thoughts of fresh veggies and healthiness. Throw "Caesar" in front of that word, and you've got a tasty dish comprised of high-calorie, high-fat dressing, bacon, croutons, and oh yeah, some lettuce. It's closer to chip dip than salad. The point of this story is that you can find healthier options at most restaurants, even one's with "Pizza" in their names, and trying to eat better doesn't require you having to neuter your social agenda.

I've become more consistent with my workouts again. Making sure to schedule a period of activity at least once a day has become a lot easier than I thought it would have been. The weekends are the toughest, but as long as I can set aside at least 30-45min, I feel as though I've accomplished something. All I have to do is stay the course, and I will be rewarded. At the advice of a loyal reader, and weight-loss inspiration in his own right, I'm going to bump up the strength training a notch. I can feel my legs getting stronger with each passing day, but I've got to take care of the total package.

On a final note, I've become unable to draw much inspiration from The Biggest Loser show anymore. A contestant purposely gained weight to get someone else voted off the show. It was a cunning tactic, though executed poorly, that worked to perfection. However, it was very clear that this show was no different than any of the other "get-rich-quick reality shows", of which I've grown quite tired. Thankfully I've got many other sources to draw inspiration from; family, friends, and you, the reader. I know you're out there, you're holding me accountable for my actions, and for that I am grateful.

Day 40-43 - Heavy Dessert and a "Surprise"

Not having stepped on the scale for a few days, my anticipation was high for the now weekly weigh-in. I had worked hard, and deserved a lower number. In fact, I was running longer distances at a time, and feeling much more comfortable doing so. The excess bulk seemed a little less prominent with each passing step as I bounded down the rubber pathway. Less pulling, shaking, and jiggle seemed to put an extra spring in my step. I could feel the difference, and it was so invigorating, it actually kept me running for even longer than I'd planned. So after a solid week of eating right and working my body very hard, I allowed myself to step on that scale to put a number to all this effort. Then came the surprise. And I'm not referring to the surprise you feel when you put on your winter jacket and find a ratty $20 bill in the front pocket. More along the lines of a snap kick to the groin. Well, this felt more like a slap in the face. Either way, I gingerly placed my feet on the chilled metal surface of the digital scale, and glanced down to see that my weight had increased. More than the last week, and more than the week before. I've since rationalized the situation, but I wouldn't be much of a self-journalist if I simply glossed over the feelings of that moment. It hurt. It hurt badly. I worked really hard to ensure that I'd be able to permanently bid adieu to the 250's, but there I stood, dumbfounded and set back. My heart felt heavy, my shoulders slumped, and I shuffled out the door. You may be thinking, "Come on, it's only one pound", but it's a gain when there should have been a loss. I was dissecting every moment over the past week where I could have gone wrong, and I realized something. When I fastened my belt, I went yet a notch tighter. That's two since the start, and the next I will have to create myself. Proof, once again, that the scale alone isn't the almighty judge of health and fitness. It still doesn't explain how I managed to gain weight, but I won't become concerned unless this trend continues.

And now, an incident of mammoth proportions. By "incident" I mean "dessert", and by "mammoth proportions" I mean "mammoth portions". A friend of ours was in the city, so my wife and I decided to attend a mid-afternoon lunch with her at one of our favourite "soup and sandwich" eateries. I stuck to my guns and kept it simple, but the other two indulged in a dessert to take home. As we arrived home, I hoisted the small container of sugary delight, but couldn't believe the weight it carried. A simple dessert to be sure, bread pudding is indeed a sight to behold. As I carried the dense little cake into the house I couldn't help but wonder how much a "single serving" of bread pudding weighed. I do own a food scale, but this dish would have pinned it to the limit. I pulled out the heavy artillery and placed the deceptively compact treat on the "people" scale. 1.6 pounds of bread, cream, sugar, and eggs smashed into a 4" square. Jaw-dropping, unbelievable, amazing. I could list a smattering of adjectives here, but you get the picture. We all shared a hearty laugh as they sat down to conquer Mt. Pudding. As I watched them chip away, I didn't feel one pang to join in the fun. We sat, we talked, and sooner than later it was gone. Needless to say, they were feeling quite full after that dense, candied feast.

I'd pushed myself very hard for this past while, so I gave myself a well-earned day away from the treadmill. I still hit the mat, but I had to give my legs a much needed break. It has been said that a day of rest can be just as important as a hard workout, so I'm going to test that theory. But I'll be back pushing myself hard very soon, and though I understand that the scale is not the be-all-end-all of gauging my health and fitness levels, I still desire a lower number for my efforts. Next week...it's going to happen, I can feel a big jump coming. It has to.

Day 36-39 - Nachos, Cheese, and Amazement At The Grocery Checkout

Whether you're the host or the guest, entertaining friends usually involves food. There may be the occasional veggie platter, but it is customary to provide sugary drinks accompanied by fatty snacks. Adopting a healthier lifestyle shouldn't mark the elimination of visiting with friends, but it does symbolize the end of the late night chips, dips, cheese, crackers, and soda. The last weight-loss attempt had me completely avoiding social gatherings for fear of relapse, but this time I would have to learn to sit on my hands, and keep them out of the chip bowl. Visiting with friends this past weekend, it was determined that snacks were a necessity midway through the night. They graciously asked if I was going to be alright with this, knowing full well of my struggles. Not wanting to damper the festivities, I gave my approval, though not knowing how I would fare. I'd been able to resist similar temptations recently, but this situation was slightly different. It was a very small group, just the four of us, seated around a table playing cards and chatting. I'm very comfortable around these people, and they are of a select few in my life that make everything "OK". They have the ability to be very influential in decisions I may be struggling with, (meaning, they can turn up the peer pressure and I'll likely submit). So we went off to gather their supplies, Slurpees and nachos with cheese. Ironically enough, as we sat around the table with them dipping and devouring, the hot topic of conversation was my ongoing battle to resist the very thing they were eating and enjoying. It wasn't so bad to begin with, but it rapidly became to much to bear. Near the end of the feast, I sneaked to the kitchen and grabbed a stack of chips, quickly stuffing them in my mouth hoping no one would notice. I immediately felt a sense of failure sweep over me. I had taken pride in the discipline I had exercised over the past weeks, and it seemed to vanish in one split-second of weakness. I had to step back from the situation to keep myself from becoming completely disheartened. I realized once again, there's no letting up and there's no giving up. Even though I may have stumbled, I still have to get back up and keep going, no matter what sort of setbacks I may encounter. I've turned my shame into a lesson learned, and for that I feel more well-equipped to handle these adversities.

Later in the week, I shuffled to the fridge to find that provisions were running low, and I'd have to make a stop at the grocery store. It's not usually a complicated visit, normally beginning and ending in the same area. With all of the distractions and impulse items meticulously placed throughout the store, even a short trip to buy fruits and vegetables can be a test of will. I gathered up a week's worth of fresh produce, and bustled past the bulk food aisle where the urge to snag a solitary M&M or candied peanut thankfully subsided as quickly as it materialized. I made it to the cashier's line unscathed, began unloading my botanical delight onto the slightly stained rubber belt, and as I waited for the family in front of me to finish up, I took note of their bounty. Bags of chips, bottles of soda, boxes of cereal, pre-fab dinners, snack bars, puddings, and crackers. Not a fruit or vegetable in sight. As the cashier began to weigh and bag my items, she sent me a glance and a smirk. "These are the healthiest groceries I've seen all day.", she told me. This isn't the first time I've been notified of this. In fact, given the right circumstances (a friendly, talkative cashier), I'm confronted about my choice of comestibles more often than not. It really shouldn't be that way, but it is for many reasons, namely cost and convenience. The total cost for my week's worth of fresh produce rivaled that of the family of three that had just preceded my place in line. Already operating on a tight budget, I've had to modify my lifestyle in more ways than just food intake and activity to make this healthy adjustment. I have to look at these fresh foods as an investment towards my good health. Sacrificing materialistic luxuries to be able to afford to eat healthier is just another adjustment that had to be made. It may be more cost effective in a monetary sense to buy cheap, fast and unhealthy food options, but at what cost to one's health?

On that note, I have been negligent to my workouts for the past few days. I'm unsure whether it is because of fatigue, or sheer laziness, but either way, I'll have to step it up again starting immediately. I've also stopped recording my weight on a daily basis. Seeing the number haphazardly jump around was becoming an increasingly frustrating aspect in an already irritating process. Weigh-ins will be relegated to Monday mornings, and that is that. I'm pushing to be into the 240's by the next weigh-in, and I'll also begin taking measurements on a monthly basis for more encouragement and incentive. Where the scale may fail me at times, hopefully the tape measure will provide a more positive outlook. The snail-like pace of this process is taking it's toll on me, but I must remain patient and persistent if I want this to be a permanent change.

Day 31-35 - Take Two Bites When One Will Do

One month behind me, and nearly 10 pounds lighter. Even though it feels like I've been at a standstill as of late, the overall numbers don't lie. I'm still heading in the right direction, but I would like to see some lower numbers on that scale in the coming weeks. Some reward for the effort that I'm putting forth. My clothing is a little looser, my belt a notch tighter, and my wedding band is feeling a little more free around my finger. I had my ring sized around this weight during the last weight-loss attempt, and it once again fits as it should. The scale seems to be crawling along, hovering, wanting to once again breach the 250 mark. It's not from a lack of effort. I'm keeping active, and my intake has been steady and honest. My fitness has improved, and I feel better on my skates with yet another game behind me. I have to practice what I preach; patience will pay.

I've learned many valuable lessons over the past month. Though some may seem like "common sense", I've generally found that "common sense" isn't all that common. For example, chewing your food prior to swallowing it. Sounds simple enough, right? I seem to have been bred to eat in a panic. Growing up, our dinner table meetings were usually brief and intense. A well-cared for and lovingly prepared meal would be obliterated in mere minutes, equivalent to a school of maniacal pirahnas viciously attacking their unsuspecting prey. The ratio of preparation time to the time taken for consumption could easily have been 8:1 or even 12:1, absurd numbers. This is something I never really thought of, even when we had company over. The four of us would always finish our meals well ahead of the competition, however there were no medals to be awarded for this feat. Just heartburn. Now as an adult, being more aware of how the general public eats, I've had to try and adjust my eating habits accordingly. I've attended meals where I've been looking for the bill and my complimentary mint, while the other guests are savouring the fourth bite of their main course. Not only is it horrible etiquette and somewhat embarrassing, it's poor for digestion. I've been trying to make a conscious effort to slow down when I'm eating. I'd grown accustomed to scarfing down fistfuls of food at blinding speeds, and had to find a way to wean myself off this detrimental habit. I've started by doing something that seems very simple, but is a step overlooked by most "power eaters". Put down the fork between each bite. Very simple, yet very difficult. Don't hold the sandwich in your hands while you're chewing. Put it down after every bite, chew, swallow, THEN pick it up again. It seems so trivial, so easy to file under "common sense", but after nearly 30 years of "power eating", I'm finding it very hard to re-train myself. I'm combining that trick with taking smaller bites. What I used to consider one bite, is now two. The start of a meal is the critical moment to instill this practice. Many factors can turn the tide from logic to instinct when food is involved, so I must remain lucid through even the toughest of temptations.

Emotional hunger is overpowering. It's extraordinarly difficult to control, yet it must be stopped. I'm constantly trying to train myself to be less mentally attached to eating, but it's a very difficult process. It's even worse that I understand why it happens, but still feel overwhelmed when I have the "need to feed". I'm constantly at war with my emotions and my mind, knowing that my mouth and brain crave something my body doesn't require. There have been times where I've finished a meal, and while staring down at the empty plate, I don't remember having lifted my fork. Sitting down with a bag of cookies or chips, and not long afterward it's been completely emptied. In minutes, this robotic, automated style of eating has put away thousands of calories, and for what purpose? I'm relentlessly reminding myself that I eat to feed my body, not for fun, and I hope I can continue to follow my own advice. Soon enough that scale will dip into the 240's, and I'll cinch my belt one notch tighter.

Day 26-30 - Frustrations and Staying The Course

Let's just say that I'd seen better days. I was involved in what can best be described as a nearly catastrophic computer issue, coupled with a crushing blow to my self-esteem. It wasn't the best start to what should have been a great weekend.

The scale dipped below the 250 mark for the first time, and I was feeling positive about the hard work I'd been putting forth. And even though I knew it would only be temporary, I also knew that having it permanently settle in the 240's wasn't that far off. I had a taste of it, and I wanted more. However, it would have to wait for a little while longer because it was Thanksgiving weekend, and the anticipation of the meals to follow outweighed my small contact with the 240's. Not to say that portion control and good sense were going to be completely forgotten, but I wasn't about to deny myself what would likely be the final celebration of food until late December. This weekend was customarily one that would leave me reeling from the sheer intake I would overload myself with. It wouldn't have been an uncommon notion to have gained 6-8 pounds over the course of this 72 hour span, I'm sure I had done it before. But this time I knew I had to have self-control. I didn't want throw away all I had accomplished up to this point for one weekend of gluttonous bingeing. But, there were forces working against me, namely myself.

I received a message from someone on the morning of Day 27, posing a very strange request. They had wanted me to model for a calendar, featuring men of "less than fit body types". Now, I'm a funny guy, and I poke fun of myself on occasion, but I don't like the way I look, and that's one of the reasons I started this crusade in the first place. I understood the humour and the direction they had intended, but I read and re-read that e-mail countless times, becoming more depressed and hurt with each passing scan. My initial reaction was to respond with two very choice monosyllabic words, but I thought better of that option and sent a proper response, knowing that they likely didn't intend it to be as hurtful as it was. I soon realized I had a very strong craving for ice cream, cookies, and/or a Slurpee. What should have been incentive (albeit negative) to get active, had regressed to a desire for "comfort food". The same snacks that had put me in this position were now supposed to help pull me out of it. Again with the pretzel logic. I had to suppress the urge to "eat myself happy" and stay the course, but considering the bounty of food that was going to be made available, it would be no easy task.

My parents were away for the weekend, so there would only be one major meal to contend with, the in-laws, and I arrived emotionally tattered and ready to stuff myself. It's extraordinarily difficult to deny your body what your brain desires. I wanted seconds of everything on the table, and there was more than enough to accommodate. I sat back helplessly and watched the plate of stuffed baked potatoes slowly cool and shrivel, relegated to the much less glamourous world of leftovers. So too, the tender roast pork, doomed to the same fate, awaiting me to pluck another helping from it's bounty but instead slowly drying up, destined for tomorrow's sandwiches. An evening of firsts, that contained no seconds. I couldn't remember a time prior where I wouldn't be trudging to the couch with a loosened belt, but I suppose this is how it now needed to be. I wasn't joining in the ritual of pleasant regret this year, all the other guests leaned back in their chairs with a mighty exhale, the pop of their pants' button signaling their complete satisfaction. I would have to fight for every inch, claw for every fraction of a pound, and I'm the only one responsible for the outcome.

The remainder of the weekend consisted of me running program after program, salvaging what I could from the malfunctioning drive. Thankfully, it wasn't a terminal mechanical problem, so I managed to recover the data, but had to shell out for a new drive. I spent a fair amount of time on the floor, navigating small connectors with large fumbling fingers, repeatedly swapping hardware in hopes of archiving every last bit of information. After a few late evenings, everything had returned to normal. Back to a world of regulated portions and mealtimes, consistent bursts of activity, and a positive attitude reassuring myself why I must continue to push on.

Day 25 - Another Kick In The Pants & Insane Adverts

As my wife and I were once again taking in some of the cool, fall weather with a bike ride through the park, we stumbled upon a very interesting find. The Terry Fox Fitness Trail, which consists of numerous fitness tests scattered throughout a running trail in the park. It's a good mix of easy tasks with a few that are quite taxing, and some near impossible. It was a great way to be active and to gain a little more confidence and inspiration in what I was trying to accomplish. I found myself thinking about Terry's journey and it gave me even more incentive to continue pushing myself to be a stronger person, physically and mentally. (See the sidebar for a link to the history of Terry Fox and his foundation.)

We continued our ride through the park and I spotted a familiar face in the distance, as we approached, my suspicions were confirmed. He had sent me his own weight-loss story via e-mail after reading my blog, and had invited me out to run with him a while back. I hadn't yet taken him up on that offer, but we'd remained in occasional contact via e-mail, keeping each other posted on our struggles and successes. To have the opportunity to meet him in person was an honour indeed. He's lost around 150 pounds to date, and is very committed and focused on his goals. His devotion is highly contagious, and before I knew it, we were headed out for a quick trot. After a few laps, and some casual chit-chat and story swapping, we bid he and his group farewell, feeling even more energized and optimistic.

We arrived home anxious to reap the rewards of our session of activity...rest and relaxation. Kicking up our feet after such a physically active evening was so much more rewarding than simply flopping on the couch after work and remaining there for the entire night. Not being much of a TV watcher, I miss out on some of the nuttiest commercials out there, food commercials especially. There's one in particular that completely had me in awe. A fellow walks into a pizza place and asks for a "BIG pizza". What he is offered is almost incomprehensible. Apparently the evolution of the pizza has been swift, cruel and unusual. Thick, pan baked, triple topping, stuffed crust pies have nothing on this wonder of pizza engineering. To be completely blunt, it was two pizzas stacked on top of each other, weighing "nearly 4 POUNDS!" as the over-zealous employee stated in no uncertain terms. They didn't just stuff the crust, they stuffed the ENTIRE PIZZA! Essentially, I regard it's hierarchy to be as follows: Crust, sauce, cheese, toppings, crust, sauce, cheese, toppings. The eager employee with the Cheshire Cat grin hands the double-wall reinforced pizza box to the smiling (and notably not overweight) customer, only to have him fall through the floor. Hilarious. Seriously, look at me laughing. :| Why, in a society where people are being removed from their houses via forklift do we need to "up the ante" on pizza? That's just one of many instances of companies enticing people of all sizes to dine on these disasters they attempt to pass off as "food". This brings me to one of my great weaknesses, the Slurpee. The cravings have waned as the time has passed, and it's been almost one month since my last one. In the simplest terms, I haven't had one because I don't really want one. I no longer feel compelled to, and though the desire will likely never leave me, the habitual nature of "just getting one because..." seems to have subsided. That's not to say I've gone completely without treating myself to minor sweets, but nothing quite as damaging as that almighty Slurpee, and I'm OK with that.

Continuous support and motivation is a major key to this process, and our adventure through the park had provided me with a positive reminder as to what I'm striving to accomplish. As our Thanksgiving weekend approaches, I'll once again be faced with the need to control my eating, and I'm feeling much better prepared to handle the adversity. Nearing the first "10 pounds lost" mark, there's no amount of temptation that's going to prevent me from seeing that scale roll into the 240's. Not this time.

Day 24 - Spreading Myself Thin

I think this is the first day where nothing really happened, well, nothing truly noteworthy or entertaining. I'm going to update twice a week from here on out, Monday and Friday. A daily blog seems a bit ambitious, considering the vast span over which I'll be journaling my adventure, and the small amount of time I have available to write it.

So to those that have been checking in and reading my thoughts, I thank you, but you'll have to wait another day to take in my next adventure. Take some time to review an entry you may have missed, and I'll be back with some more entertaining stories and insight very soon.

Day 23 - Too Much Of A Good Thing Is Morbidly Hilarious

Not paying attention to my daily weigh-ins is tough when the number stays stagnant or increases. But, that one critical moment per week is when it really matters, so I'm not thinking about my weight at this point. Though, I may have some insight into those fluctuations...

My naturopath had given me a tip a while back, to take a few spoonfuls of ground flax around mealtime to help me feel satiated. As I've mentioned before, I have a hard time getting to the point of feeling "full", so any help in that regard was welcome. Sure enough, the ground flax delayed my "need to feed" for longer than usual. Incorporating it into my daily routine was simple as it's a very inexpensive product ($0.12/100g), and it's fairly pleasant to eat, apart from the dryness. Also a good source of fibre and Omega fats, I would rarely go without a daily dosage. As I began to grow accustomed to it's fibrous abilities, I slowly increased the amounts I'd be taking in during the day. My daily portion had topped out at around 1 cup (168g) per day. For Day 23, I had unintentionally filled up my container a little more than usual, around the 250g mark. "No big deal, it's only flaxseed.", I thought. Near the end of the day, feeling quite full of flax, I decided to check out the nutritional information on NutritionData.com. "Flaxseed........ok, there it is........one serving, ground flaxseed........37 calories, 3g of fat.........hmm, not too bad at all.", my eyes moved upward to gaze upon a little tiny number at the top of the chart, ".....Serving Size 7g...........wait.....WHA?!?!?!?!?".

That's right, folks, and I'll do the math for you. My average flax intake for the day would yield 888 calories and 72g of fat. And though it's the "good" kind of fat, that's still about 120% of my daily fat intake. For the flax ALONE. Also considering I'd like to keep my daily calorie intake around the 1500 mark, that's almost 60% of my daily calories right there. I'm normally pretty diligent about researching this sort of thing, but it must have slipped right by me all those years ago. Oh, and for those keeping score at home, my most recent serving worked out to 1325 calories and 107g of fat. All I could do was laugh. A lot.

The evening consisted of some cooking, a little computer project, and catching the tail end of The Biggest Loser. I'm not much for reality TV, or TV in general, but that show obviously hits home for me. If you look past the countless instances of forced suspense and well placed advertisements, there's real human emotion to be found under it's glossy corporate exterior. I realize it's horribly cliché, but they really inspired me to work even harder at bettering myself. I hopped on and extended my usual treadmill variations with an additional 5min run, returning to the mat yet again for my regular session, (45min/2.75mi, 400/30/30). All in all, a productive day, though the entertainment unfortunately came at my expense once again. Blasted flaxseed...

Day 22 - Impatience, Frustration, and Taking My Own Advice

Instant breakfast, heat-and-eat lunches, and 90 second workouts have sculpted us into creatures that want and need everything, immediately. Longer work days, coupled with shorter lunches, breaks and vacations have caused us to compress the tasks we deem "non-essential" into shorter spans of time, or simply to "multitask". On my morning commute, if was to look to my left and then my right at any stop light, I would be guaranteed to see someone either talking on their phone, taking notes, eating some sort of fast food, drinking a coffee, or perhaps any combination of these. Never mind the fact that once the light turns green, they're also operating a motor vehicle. I'm not going to turn this into some diatribe about the safety issue this presents, I just wonder how to curb the madness.

On the morning of Day 22, our impatient culture had bled back into my own way of thought. I stepped on the scale only to see a slight improvement over last week. "At this stage, I should be in full swing", I thought to myself. "My pants aren't feeling any looser, my shirts are still far too snug, and I'm almost a month into this.", loosely translated, "I want results, and I want them NOW.". My previous weight-loss effort was very much an instant gratification process, losing the bulk of the weight in the first 6-8 weeks. However, this was due to making drastic physical changes that I wasn't mentally prepared for. It obviously didn't work, and my current thoughts were focused on what I was already deeming another failure. "What do I need to change? How can I improve my results? Why is this not working? When will I feel like I'm really progressing?" I turned to my own words for advice, and perused my previous entries.

Patience is a virtue, and can be easily cast aside when looking to the future. I again, was getting too far ahead of myself here. My natural reaction was to panic, looking to place blame before the outcome was even determined. I looked to that popsicle I had on Day 14, or the meal where I may have eaten a little more than I should have on Day 9, but why? A deep analysis of all of these factors turned up the same answer every time. Patience and determination will be rewarded with results. If I keep doing all the right things, change will happen. I'm not looking for the quick fix here, I want to be healthy and to stay that way. It is a long process, and one that I've still only just begun.

Though I was still feeling slightly disappointed with my progress thus far, I knew that if I sat back and felt sorry for myself I'd risk derailment. Refocused, I hit the treadmill for an uphill climb followed by a flatland run for a total of 40mins, taking me 2.5 miles. After the hockey experience from Day 19, I knew that I had to work towards getting myself in better condition for each upcoming game. I concluded the evening with my mat workout and felt much better about my accomplishments thus far. Though the scale wasn't giving me much to cheer about, I was feeling physically stronger, and improving by the day. Though it remains a daily struggle to push myself, and the results sometimes don't show themselves as quickly as I'd like them to, some things in life are just worth the wait.

Day 19, 20 & 21 - Puck Drop, Peer-Pressure, and Getting Tidy

Day 19 arrived with the excitement of Christmas morning. I loaded the equipment bag into the car and as I headed to work, was already looking forward to the end of the day. The first hockey game of the season was going to put my body through the wringer, and I was anxious to get it underway. It was a much more relaxed atmosphere than the organized games I'd played for the past years, playing to win, but also playing for fun. No goons, no bad attitudes, just a few guys enjoying the game. I came out of the gate for my first shift and played with the same intensity that I had from the last game many months ago. Unfortunately, that sort of expulsion of energy is best served when you've got a moment or two to rest after your 1min shift is up. With a lot less players than I was previously accustomed to, the shifts were longer, and the rests were shorter. MUCH shorter. The pace is still good, but my conditioning will have to improve immensely if I want to keep up with these guys. I left the rink exhausted but very happy. I knew I'd be sore for the weekend, but I didn't care. This was yet another reason to keep up the training at home, and to stay focused on fitness.

To my surprise, I was able to walk on the morning of Day 20. The ferocity with which I'd strained my muscles the day before had shown no ill effects, as of yet. Perhaps the mild workouts I had been putting myself through were providing some service after all. We had a housewarming to attend for the evening, but my wife was sadly forced to stay home with a migraine. Flying solo, I arrived early, unsure of what the night would bring, knowing that there would be many temptations to accompany the fun to be had. After the grand tour, I adjourned to the upstairs living room / dining room / kitchen area, to bear witness to the beautiful spread of food that awaited me. All of my weaknesses were fully represented. Spinach dip in a bread bowl, sliced cheeses accompanied by spicy meats, chips and dips, cake, cupcakes, and a wide assortment of beverages, all for public consumption. Thankfully there was balcony where I headed out to grab a breath and collect my thoughts to prepare for the evening to follow. All of my friends will eat, drink and be merry, and I will be restricted to being merry without the assistance of food or drink. I went to the kitchen, removing a disposable cup from the towering display that would no doubt dwindle late into the night, after quenching the thirst of those devouring all things sweet and salty. I, however, was looking for water. Pushing aside the bags of chips, bottles of pop, and flasks of liquor, I located the water jug. Filling my plastic carafe, I immediately knocked back it's contents and refilled before taking a seat. The cup was coloured, but clear, providing the illusion that I could be quaffing a mixed drink. But with the frequency that I was refilling, combined with the sureness of my footing and unfettered speaking ability, it was evident that wasn't consuming my customary gin beverages. As the bulk of the guests had arrived and settled in, I was offered a proper drink, to which I politely refused. Alarm bells were set off immediately, as I don't believe this individual had ever heard me turn down a drink. The topic of conversation turned to my fitness endeavours, and I soon found myself recounting many of my stories and revelations from over the past weeks. Normally a peer-pressure oriented group, they let me be. It didn't exempt me from some light-hearted teasing and needling through the night, but by the time the rowdy crowd had arrived, I was battling only my inner demons to resist that lone piece of cheese, those crumbs in the chip bowl, and that last morsel of bread saturated with the dip of it's departed brethren. Many laughs were had, old stories re-told, and new stories created, all with a lonely cup of water at my side. Not a close call to be had, nor a moment of weakness to speak of. I sat amongst a sea of deliciousness, and through my inner strength I emerged victorious. Though my muscles were starting to get sore...

The morning of Day 21 came a little earlier than I'd hoped, but that was all right, as I was heading out to help out a friend at a trade show. Funny thing was, he's the co-owner of the house we were warming the night prior. Looking a little worse for wear, I gladly relieved him of his post to allow him get some coffee and a little breather. We kicked back for most of the show, tending to the occasional customer, being entertained by some, and uninspired by others. It was a pleasant way to spend a Sunday morning and afternoon. I headed home, after the crowds had thinned out, to a relaxing afternoon and evening of tidying and cleaning. My wife headed out to a movie with a friend, which left me to continue my cleaning and take in a little video game action. By now, my muscles were aching a little, but if this was to be the worst of it, then I'd say I wasn't doing too badly. My sides would pang when I coughed or sneezed, but my legs were in tip top shape. It was a good feeling to know that the efforts I'd been putting forth were really giving me some merit. My wife arrived home in time for some TV and then off to bed. The scale really jumped around this weekend, I hope that it is kind to me to kick off Week 4, I think I've earned it.

Day 18 - Comedy As A Crutch

For most of my life, I've been the "funny guy". Mostly observational humour, but always quick with the wit, and graced with a good sense of timing that most people neglect to hone. This developed very early on in my life, as I was picked on in school for various reasons. I wasn't a fat kid, I was actually into sports and remained fairly active. I was a bookworm, was taller than most of my classmates, and was a year (or more) younger than all of them. Quite a dastardly combination for a child. For the lack of a better term, I was a "nerd". I used to go to school early to fiddle around on those newfangled Apple II computers, stay late to hang out in the library, and after I'd finished my homework it was time for video games. Uh, yeah. Nerd alert.

So obviously I was the target for much ridicule in my younger years, and my defense mechanism seemed to be self-depricating humour. If they'd verbally bash me, I'd simply agree with what they had to say and move along. They eventually would tire of it and do the same. Looking back, this may have been a bit of a detriment to my self-esteem, but what can you do? This quickly developed into a very dry and witty observational style of humour, a good mix of Canadian and British influence. By the time the childhood ridicule had subsided, I had become a full-fledged "funny guy".

As grade school, and then high school, faded into memory, could I maintain the same "funny guy" status with new groups of friends? Oh yeah, I was a seasoned pro. Problem being, I was forcing myself to mix in some of that self-deprication again, because my weight was starting to creep in the wrong direction. I would draw attention to my obvious physical shortcomings, perhaps in hopes of putting the group or individual at ease about how "comfortable" I was with my appearance. Of course, the opposite was true. I couldn't stand how I looked, and no matter how often I reminded myself of it, I would never stop to think about how to improve it. Just hit up another party, gathering, or event, and be entertaining, usually at my own expense.

Soon, I was the "funny fat guy". Not necessarily doing the "funny fat guy" routine, you know, wearing clothes that are a few sizes too small, spastic bursts of high energy followed by fits of wheezing, falling over furniture, that sort of thing. I stuck to what I knew (although I think I've fallen over my share of furniture), in an attempt to give the impression that I was a jolly person, a large man with a hearty laugh. In reality, though, I was miserable, and it can be directly related to the size I had achieved. When I had an audience I'd instantly be "on", but when the dust settled, there was no way to cheer up the clown. It took some time, but I realized it didn't have to be this way. I was disguising my true feelings, concealing myself behind a cloak of silliness and laughter.

I was definitely born to entertain. Be it performing music in the studio or on stage, entertaining an audience with stories, jokes and quick wit, or writing and publishing my life's struggles and successes for the world to peruse, I aim to please. The difference now is that I'm not using it as front for my own lack of self-esteem. I entertain because I am able to, and it now compliments my perspective on life, rather than masking it. For the first time in a long time, I now feel I can truly be myself without the emotional discomfort that once accompanied being myself.

Day 17 - Appreciating A Time Of Transition

It is on days like this where I'm reminded how enjoyable life truly can be. A crisp fall day greeted me on the morning of Day 17. That first breath of the slightly chilled fresh air delivered a pleasant burn into my lungs, jolting me fully awake and placing a smile on my face. Autumn invokes many conflicting emotions from people, it's a very misunderstood season. Some take it as a sign of dread for the winter months that are guaranteed to follow. The preparations made to your majestic lawn for it's transformation into snow-covered tundra, winterizing all those items that need winterizing, and the anticipation of dusting off the shovel or snowthrower for another season. For me, the passage from summer to winter is quite enjoyable, as there is so much to enjoy for these few months of transition. The fall brings TV premieres, warm sweaters, and nature walks with my wife (sans-mosquito repellent). It also brings hockey, of the professional and recreational variety, and though I do very much enjoy watching, I can't wait to lace them up and get out there myself.

Playing hockey was a giant boost for my activity and fitness levels over the past few years, and I plan on continuing for this coming winter. Sadly, resigning from my job of 9 years this past spring has left me without a team, but all is not lost. A friend of mine has invited me to join his recreational league at a fraction of the cost, and with consistent game times. I spent many seasons having to play games after 11pm on a weeknight, which made for a very long day to follow. But, I also did have the good fortune of learning many things from competing with highly skilled, truly patient, and hugely accommodating players over the years. I'm now looking to physically get myself back into shape where I'll once again be able to put their teachings into practice. At least to the best of my abilities. That's all they ever asked of me, and hopefully my new teammates will be just as understanding and helpful. So, along with a weekly game or two, once the weather allows for the outdoor rinks to open, I'll be able to vary my cardio workouts even more. It's much easier to get exercise and be active when you're having fun doing it.

The weather was still chilled, but very pleasant when I arrived home. My wife had suggested we head out for a brisk walk before I had to leave for the evening's recoding session. We lightly bundled ourselves and set off. The range of colours to be viewed on an autumn day on the Prairies is truly something to behold. As we made our way through one of the largest urban forests in North America, time seemed to stand still. A group of deer were grazing a few meters from us, and they weren't bothered in the least by our intrusion, it seemed as if they had stopped to pose. A gentle breeze would stir the little piles of leaves scattered amongst the grass, creating a symphony of scratching and rustling that would cause the birds in the overhanging trees to nervously hop from branch to branch, in hopes of obtaining a better vantage point to observe the commotion. We arrived back home after an hour, both in agreement that this mini-adventure should be a regular occurrence until the snow arrived. I then headed out to a wonderful night in the recording studio, and it was an enjoyable experience as always. Everything seemed to go very smoothly, and I left already anticipating my next visit.

By the time I'd arrived back home I was ready to relax a little bit. After a little couch time and having prepared my food for the following day, I went to bed, again a little earlier than the night before. I'm weaning myself off of my customary "late nights" very slowly, and I'm already seeing vast improvements with my energy levels during the day. So, no formal workout for Day 17, but our walk had left me feeling very satisfied. It's amazing what can be experienced if you take a little time to enjoy some of life's little pleasures (and I'm not talking about food).

Day 16 - Weighing Less Just Comes With The Territory

I had my eyes squarely set on the prize at the end of the journey, and could have very well been on my way to derailment and disappointment once again. "Just break it down to the basics. There's no need to stress about this, it'll only make it more difficult than it has to be. Take a breath and think about it.", I told myself, this time with confidence and conviction. I gained a little today? Likely a little water retention from not working out the night before, a normal fluctuation. I'm going to rely less on the scale and more on how I feel. The scale provides valuable information about how my body works and adapts, but a slight increase or decrease in weight will not send me into a tizzy. I've constructed a statement that not only summarizes my plan, but will inspire me to continue beyond my "goal weight".

My only goals are fitness and good health.
Weighing less just comes with the territory.

I feel completely rejuvenated with this new outlook. I had previously mentioned that, early during my initial push from 312, I just woke up one day feeling the need for change. This day felt eerily similar in that my focus is now true and unforced. It's as if a switch has been flipped and it all has become clear. Instead of forcing myself to abstain from the foods I crave, they simply are not as interesting as they once had been. I can feel the icy grip of my food addiction loosening from around my neck. Though it's grasp may never fully leave, I've been given a small amount of breath with which to organize my once obstructed thoughts. Now that mind and body have attained unity, there is no limit to what I could accomplish, and it has put a spring in my step.

My wife and I ambitiously set out for a bike ride in the early evening. It was chilly, but clear, and we didn't want to miss out on what could be one of the final pleasant days for the coming months. After the ride, I settled in for some rehearsal time as the recording session is fast approaching. Much more focused than the previous evening, I'm feeling fully prepared. I closed out the day with a vigorous workout (40:00/2.0miles/15° incline, 200/30/30), and felt fantastic afterwards. Exhausted, but triumphant. I headed up to bed feeling very pleased, and somewhat relieved. I had been trying far too hard to just lose the weight and it was mentally stressing me out. The changes have been made, and the weight will take care of itself. I will look back on Day 16 with great fondness. Some people wait a lifetime for a revelation of this magnitude. It was the day when I truly understood that being healthy and fit has no finish line, it's a permanent part of my life.

Day 15 - A Good Day Goes Wrong...For No Reason

Two weeks in, and my situation was going well. Down 2.4 pounds from last week, and down 6.4 from the beginning. On pace and on track, though I felt mentally clouded. I didn't think much of it. There was no reason to be anything but positive, so I figured whatever it was would iron itself out.

I arrived home from work still in a sort of haze. "Perhaps it's the weather", I thought to myself, as I peered out the window to observe the overcast skies that had lingered for the duration of the day. Dreary, damp, dark, chilly. The weather was indeed reflecting my mood, but was it influencing me? No time to worry about that, I had a busy night ahead. I assembled a delicious supper meal, a sort of "pita pizza". Whole wheat pita, diced tomatoes with spices (essentially a bruschetta topping), mushrooms, red peppers and jalapenos, topped with two thin pieces of cheese. I put that bad boy in the toaster oven until the pita was crispy. Outstanding. Tasty food is normally a guaranteed "pick-me-up", but even that couldn't bust me out of my funk. There I sat, mindlessly flipping through channels as though the answer would magically be broadcast across the airwaves at that precise moment. My wife arrived home and I leaped to my feet to greet her. I opened the door, locked her in an embrace, and instantly felt better. She's a guaranteed emotional restorative for me.

Feeling energized I headed to my office. I've got a full night ahead of me, putting the finishing touches on my preparations for an upcoming recording session. As a true passion of mine, writing and playing music is a wonderful stress release, so I approached it with a positive mindset, trusting that it would bring my body and mind back into harmony. The songwriter was initially going come over to rehearse, but I thought to save him the trip by recording my parts at home and sending them his way for instant review and amendments. Technology certainly is astounding. After he sent the first revision back, I was stressed. I had absolutely no reason to feel that way, being fully capable of providing the changes he'd requested, but my mind just seemed to be unfocused and flooded. Over the next while, we exchanged ideas and thoughts via e-mails, but I was feeling worse by the minute. He's a good friend of mine, so I called him up to discuss the latest group of revisions, to take a break from the undue pressure I seemed to be putting on myself, and to just say "hi". The impersonal nature of our electronic conversations were becoming too much to bear, and in hindsight, I probably should have had him come over. We had a good long talk, I hadn't spoken with him over the phone for a while, and we shared a few good laughs mixed in with analysis of the music and of my current mental state. I couldn't come up with a definitive reason as to "why", I just knew I wasn't feeling well emotionally. I decided to call it a night, and I was looking forward to spending a little time in front of the TV before hitting the workout routine. That usually makes me feel better.

After we watched about 30min of TV, I just couldn't be moved off that couch. Feeling as glum as ever, I wasn't motivated to workout. With my wife snoozing on my shoulder, there I sat, blankly staring as the light emanating from the TV bounced across the walls of the living room and illuminated my face from time to time. I saw the shapes and heard the sounds being transmitted, but my mind wasn't registering them as entertaining or informative. It was time to rest my weary head. I gently brushed the hair from her face which caused her to stir ever so slightly. "Time for bed.", I told her with a smile. We headed to bed much earlier than normal, and though I hadn't physically worked out, I felt completely drained. Perhaps the late nights from the weekend past were catching up with me. Here's hoping that a solid night of rest brings a much healthier, energized and motivated tomorrow.

Day 12, 13 & 14 - A Blast From The Past

The morning of Day 12 arrived far too quickly. Unfocused and slightly bewildered, I head out the door. Why must I deprive myself of sleep in the endless pursuit of fun? The evening before, I had told myself it was so "worth it". I've since grown hours older and wiser. I now know that I had meant, "It was fun, but tomorrow I'm going to pay dearly." Nothing in this world seems to come without a price, so there's no room for protest when the bill arrives. Just pay up and move on. I promise myself an early night on Day 12, but I apparently am not only a glutton for food, but for punishment as well.

The evening of Day 12 looked to be a quiet one. I'd planned to play some cards for a little while, then head home to bed. Shortly before leaving, I received a message from someone that I hadn't seen in far too long. He was visiting from Ottawa for the weekend, and was looking to meet up. It sounded innocent enough. After the card game had ended, I headed out to a local speakeasy to convene with him. I entered to see a gathering of friends from years gone by. A small scale high school reunion had erupted. The planets aligned in our favour that night, as we had people from all over just happen to be visiting at that moment. Someone from Thompson had come in for the weekend, and another from Korea had just arrived back home for the week. Others would be moving away to the West coast within the month. A chance meeting for all involved, and we waxed nostalgic well into the wee hours. My stomach hurt from laughing so intensely, and I was smiling so much that my cheeks ached. Just a fantastic night for all of us. As I drove my friend home we agreed to head out for a lunch date the following day. An uninterrupted sleep awaited me. No alarm to be set, no wake up call required. It was time to rest easy.

Sleeping in is such a treat. The mornings when I'm not being jolted awake by the nattering of an absurdly generic morning radio personality is one of the simple pleasures of life that I truly do appreciate. I rose on my own terms on Day 13, and not long after I headed out for an early lunch. We ate at one my favourite places, dining on one of my favourite dishes. Mongolian stir-fry. Thankfully, it's a delicious, nutritious and generally light meal. We spent most of our time rehashing the events of the evening prior, the memorable as well as the not so much. Having had our fill, I dropped him off, unsure of the next time we would be crossing paths, but very glad we had an abbreviated, but thorough visit.

Having not seen these old friends for such a long while really created an appreciation for the short time we had to relive our pasts. Though it ended as quickly as it had begun, we all had a fantastic time, and it truly felt genuine. We instantly fell into our old routines, and it soon felt as if we hadn't missed a beat. All the inside jokes were still valid, all the little catch phrases still fresh in our minds, as though the sight of each other had rekindled a part of our youths we thought had long expired. Words can't fully describe the joy I felt that evening, and it really inspired me on my journey even more. Someone even told me I looked younger than the last time they saw me, which was likely 8 years before. Whether we keep in touch, or fall back to our regular routines, it's comforting to know that the friendships we had formed so long ago can remain as solid as ever. Time will neither age nor tarnish our memories, they will only make them more enjoyable to reflect on the next time we meet.

Day 14 was quite uneventful; groceries, fill up the car, not too exciting. The weather started out as exceptional, and looked as though a bike ride could take place, but turned soggy by the time all of the errands had been run. The workout routine for the weekend was sporadic, but good (30min/1.5mi/15° incline, 200/30/30). No improvements yet, but I will look to change up the treadmill program shortly. My weight seemed to have been hovering over the weekend, but I hope that the coming week will be marked with another jump in the right direction, maybe even a peek into the 240's. I find it sort of sad to be looking forward to the 240's again, not long ago it was a sign that I was expanding, but it has now been relegated to a benchmark of loss. Unlike those recently revisited teenage memories, once the 250's are a part of my past, I will not be fondly looking back on them.

Day 11 - Temptation, Submission, Restraint, Reality, and Sleep (or the lack thereof)

The scale treated me to good news this morning, still slowly fighting my way to the 240's. Small goals contained within one large voyage. But as I've stated, this documentation of my personal quest will contain all the glorious highs, combined with the miserable lows. Today's chapter will primarily contain the latter.

Let's just skip right to the evening. I had finished visiting with some friends that I hadn't seen in far too long, and the time was around 10:15. My brain and body both told me it was time to go home, bedtime was fast approaching and I still had to hit the mat and treadmill. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option, as I had another engagement to attend. A few old bandmates were performing with their new group tonight, and there was no way I was going to miss the show. I headed over to catch up with another close friend before we walked over to the venue. Sitting down on his now disheveled and tattered couch, many memories came flooding back of past festivities, overindulgence, and general mayhem. We reminisced about the days gone by, he with his beer and I with my water. Temptation. He offers a drink of Southern Comfort. I initially refuse, and we have a brief, but thorough conversation. Submission. I subsequently tip one back. It tastes fantastic, and I don't feel too bad about having it. Restraint. Satisfied with that, we head to the show. Throughout the evening, we discussed many facets of why I haven't been successful with the weight loss issue in the past, and changes I've made to help ensure that this time is the last. Reality. It seems very much an impossible mission to completely eliminate all temptations. So instead of pushing, fighting, and hiding from them, I'm learning to embrace temptation, and with it, moderation.

My primary dilemma with Day 11 was the fact that it bled into Day 12. Since ramping up the amount of physical activity, I'd been in bed at or before 11:30 every night. That's still quite late, but is nothing compared to the lack of sleep I burdened myself with in the past. Late nights were almost mandatory, there's just too much information to be had out there, and I wanted it all. News, books, music, movies, games, research, into the wee hours...and then I would wonder why I felt so awful the following morning. Since I had begun the regular workout routine, my body hadn't allowed me to stay up very late at all, and that had become a problem on the night of Day 11. The main attraction hit the stage as Day 12 began, and I was thoroughly entertained. It was great to finally see them playing on stage again. After catching up with the guys and the many familiar faces in the crowd after the show, Day 12 was already well underway, and I could barely keep my eyes open, still trying to conclude Day 11. We walked back, I hopped in my car, and made my way home. As I pulled into the driveway, I peeked down at the radio to catch a glimpse of the illuminated display staring back at me. The small LED arrays had positioned themselves in a manner that I hadn't seen for some time. They combined their efforts to form "1:47am". Oh boy.

The pillow is soft, and the bed is warm. I snuggle up to my wife, it's good to be home. Sleep.

Day 10 - Motivation From The Past, Present, And Future

Wow, Day 10. Into the double digits. Hopped on the scale to see a little more progress, looks like it wasn't such a bad idea to get some rest after all. I felt much better than on Day 9, completely refreshed and ready to roll, and actually looking forward to the evening's workout.

Motivation can come from many places. A person, a song, a story. Introducing Dr. Dean Schrader, my naturopath. He was instrumental in educating and pushing me during my last big weight loss push. When I came to him initially, I was a mess on all fronts. Addicted to sugars, chronically overeating, depressed. He took what seemed like endless amounts of time to just listen. Not only would he listen, he always seemed to have the answers I needed to hear. Even when I arrived for a session having lapsed in the eating or exercise department, he would always be positive about the progress, the big picture. He taught me about feeding my body, how to treat food as fuel, not as entertainment. How the food I was craving was designed to leave me wanting more. The science behind snack foods was quite alarming, and instead of just saying "Don't eat chips.", he explained why I shouldn't eat them, and what made me want to eat them. I found it much easier to control the addiction when I understood how it grabbed a hold of me. As my weight continued to drop, I arrived at a point where I started to see him less and less. I eventually stopped seeing him altogether, I thought I could handle it on my own. That's around the time I started to introduce those foods that he had educated and warned me about. Soon enough I had packed on the pounds again. You may ask yourself, "Why didn't you just go back and talk to him?". Very good question, but the answer is quite ludicrous. I was embarrassed. Ashamed. I didn't want him to see me like this again. It was even tougher to accept this time over the last, because I was so much more knowledgeable, but still didn't have the strength to go it alone. I should really give him a call soon.

And before that, there was another weight loss movement, completely centered around physical activity. My Mom, brother, and myself hired a personal trainer to try and get us whipped into shape. Quite the motivator, Brian Herosian took on the responsibility of whipping us into shape. When I visited him for the first time, I tipped his scale at 300. He was so great at getting me fired up to be active. The last thing I wanted to do was dissappoint him, so I'd always arrive completely pumped and leave utterly wiped. He welcomed us as a part of his family, utterly engrossed in our well-being, he wanted nothing more than to have us succeed. But again, I slowly started to decline my attendance, thinking I would be able to continue on my own. That was the intent, anyway. The weight crept back on, I stopped being active, and WHAM! Back to the old me. I should have gone back to see him, but again was completely mortified by my appearance. Pretzel logic, isn't it?

Taking all the teachings from these life experiences and now applying them to everyday life has shown that I have to be my biggest motivator. I've got a different attitude towards losing weight and being healthy this time around. It just feels better, different, more official. The weather on Day 10 was simply stunning, so my wife and I went for a 90min bike ride to the Fort Whyte Centre, which is a free-roaming wildlife conservatory, spread over 400 acres. Just beautiful at this time of year. After that, we came home to rest and relax for the evening, taking in a flick with a friend, but I still had an urge to hit the treadmill. Climbed that hill again, and finished with some 1min sprints (40min/2.0miles, 200/30/30). All in all a fantastic day, filled with many reminders as to why I continue to do this. An evening enjoying the great outdoors with my lovely wife, fond memories of inspirational mentors that became my friends, rest, relaxation, and activity. Life sure is grand, and becoming moreso by the day.