This blog serves as an inspirational and entertaining progress report on my seemingly never-ending journey to 200 pounds.

Friday, November 30, 2007

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.

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Thursday, November 22, 2007

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.

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Thursday, November 15, 2007

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.

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Friday, November 9, 2007

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.

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Tuesday, November 6, 2007

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?

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Friday, November 2, 2007

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.

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