1st Month - Compliments From Strangers

This past month has been the hardest I've ever worked at physically bettering myself. 3 times a week in the gym for weight training and hard cardio, and another 2 days a week playing hockey. 5 days out of 7 containing highly regimented, high intensity activities. My weight didn't really budge for the first three weeks, which was a bit discouraging at first. I know that I should not rely on that number, but I wasn't feeling is though I'd improved in any other area over that time, just ending up extremely tired at the end of each day. Considering how hard I was working, I was expecting drastic changes, but was looking in the wrong place. After pushing and pulling weights for the first time in years, I was building lean muscle (which is more dense than fat), and in turn my weight was remaining stagnant. However, my body fat percentage has been gradually dropping and my waistline was slowly shrinking. I haven't noticed my appearance changing at all, but I've been the recipient of endless encouragement from my dear wife and other family members. But, for some reason it took a complete stranger to convince me that a change was actually taking place.

Receiving a compliment from a loved one, usually pleasant and rooted in fact, can be taken more lightly than it is intended. This is because, as a loved one, you are obligated to provide unwavering support and encouragement to your mate/sibling/offspring/friend. Compliments from a complete stranger, however, are sparse at best. Strangers are not required to provide you positive reinforcement by any means, but the rare occasions that they do should be noted.

As I was being pushed through my routine at the gym recently, I stopped for a quick rest. At this particular facility, conversations are usually non-existent, or brief and breathless at best. The unspoken mantra is that if you're able to speak coherently, then you're not working hard enough. There I stood, gasping for air, eyes pointed upward looking for some sort of divine intervention to release me from this self-imposed torture. I then heard an unfamiliar voice say, "I can tell you've already made a lot of progress!". I gradually lowered my head to see that those words were intended for me. The best reply I could muster was a wheezy "Thanks.", thrust out between heavy breaths. They then mentioned that "a noticable change had occurred in the two weeks since they last saw me". It's truly nothing different than what I've already been told by others, but this source was completely unprovoked and unbiased. Sometimes it's the little things that make a difference.

Now, please don't let that one example detract from the wonderful support that my family and close friends have given me. They set the foundation that allows me to attempt to improve myself every single day.

"Fall seven times, stand up eight." It's time to stand up again.

A Quick Update...

Hey there. I've been away from the writing game for a bit, trying to get back to basics with this whole "fitness and weight loss" business. I've determined that's it's been an impossible mission to do this alone, so I've recently enlisted the help of a trainer. Every facet of my daily routine has been analyzed, scrutinized, dissassembled, and reset. Past mistakes and bad habits are being addressed, and I'm looking forward to once again making some headway, this time more permanent than the last.

I'm thinking perhaps a monthly or bi-weekly update would better chronicle any changes that may be happening. A daily or weekly review wasn't allowing for much change to take place, possibly nourishing my frustration.

I do greatly appreciate all of the support that's been directed my way over the past while, and I'm here to assure everyone (namely myself) that I haven't given up hope.

EPIC FAILURE

Well, I knew someone would bust me for not updating, and the fact is, I'm truly embarrassed to reveal my current status.

I'm nearly back to where I started, weight-wise. Yet again the cycle is complete. Almost a full year gone by with nothing but a fistful of "experience" to show for it.

I haven't the time or patience to continue to update this blog at this point in time, but if you want to be put on a mailing list to be notified when I actually get myself back in gear and start up the blog again (hopefully sooner than later) feel free to drop me a line at:

heavytrev@shaw.ca

My life has gotten a little overwhelming over the past month, and once I'm in the clear, I'd love to start writing again. I haven't lost hope, but I'm definitely not feeling too positive at the moment...

Stay tuned, keep in touch, and thanks for reading.

-trev-

Race Day Recap

As my alarm buzzed it's morning greeting, I had already been stirring for a few minutes prior. The nervous energy that had accumulated over the past few days didn't allow for the soundest of sleeping conditions, and I found myself drifting in and out of consciousness throughout the night. I did rest much more consistently than the year prior, likely due to knowing exactly what to expect from the coming event. My lovely wife awoke alongside me, and without much prep apart from the usual morning rituals, I was off to the starting line. She had intended to wait in the stands for the duration, but the unseasonable cold had us reassess our plans. She dropped me off at the shuttle bus, and we would reconvene at the finish line. I was able to estimate my arrival to the stadium finish line within about 10-15min, as I knew my pace was steady and true, so she would only have to endure the chilly air for a short while. I, on the other hand, was about to subject myself to the same intense conditions for about 2 1/2 hours.

As I walked from the shuttle drop-off to the starting line, I began to come under a deep focus. I repeatedly assured myself that I had trained well for this, and that I would undoubtedly better my time from last year. Then, an intense blast from the frigid North wind reminded what I was up against. This was going to be a tough morning, but I was prepared. I only chatted with one familiar face out of the thousands waiting for the event to begin. We had run the first 5 miles together last year, and he was a big help in encouraging me along the way. He was participating in the relay, so his advanced pace wouldn't allow us to run together on this day. As we parted ways, I made my way to the starting area, staying near the back of the pack. My numb and shuddering hands made the simplest tasks seem horribly difficult. It must have taken me 5 minutes to pin my number onto my shirt. It was ridiculously cold, but in only a few moments, the weather would be much less of concern.

As I crossed the starting line, my pace was immediately locked in. Based on many weeks of training, I estimated that I would be finishing in a time of 2:20, which would be a 20min improvement over last year. After the first mile, the cold wasn't much of an issue. My body gradually warmed as my heart rate increased and found it's own steady pace. The first half was quite comfortable and pain-free, and by the midway point, I remained on pace for 2:20, almost to the minute. From my prior experience here, I knew the second half was decidedly slower, and mostly uphill, so I hit the turn at around 1:07, allowing for a slight decrease in pace for the extra challenges that laid ahead. Unfortunately, no amount of training could have prepared me for what was coming.

Mile 7 was the beginning of the first uphill climb, and I fought through it, but began to feel slightly laboured by this point. Almost as if there had been small amount of weight added to my feet. I knew that a slight bit of relief from the steady incline was just up ahead, as I made my way up onto a bridge into a very open area. As the shelter of the trees vanished, a gust of wind (again from the frigid North), proceeded to blast me head on. The wind was unrelenting as I made my way over the bridge and onto a seemingly endless stretch of road. Soon, every step felt as though my feet were made of lead, and the icy wind was making it difficult to take proper breaths. As my breaths became shorter, so did my stride, and I could now feel myself slowing down. The glacial wind persisted for the next 3 miles, and by the time it subsided, I was exhausted. Just in time for the most brutal climb of the entire distance. The last few miles seemed to take an eternity, as the gaps between the mile markers appeared to lengthen.

When I spotted the Mile 12 sign, I felt a sense of relief that the end was near, but I knew that I still had to make it to the finish. The last mile seemed perpetual. Every corner I turned gave way to even more runners in the distance, but eventually, the stadium was in sight. As I hit the stadium's track for my final lap, I managed to find a small pocket of energy that allowed me to pick up my pace, shaving a few seconds off my time, and allowing me to cross the finish line with a little bit of gusto, in a time of 2:36:14. As I received my medal and countless high fives from the wonderful volunteers, I made my way to the recovery area. And though the run was finally complete, one of the most troublesome experiences of my life was just beginning.

As my eyes darted across the crowd for a familiar face, I munched on an apple, and powered back some water and a bit of yogourt. My wife was to meet me at the finish line between 9:30 and 9:45, and my arrival fell perfectly into that time frame. Not willing to stray far from the finishing area, I searched for someone nearby that might be willing to loan me their cell phone. After three calls and no answer, my concern began to rise, but I patiently paced around the area for 30min. As the crowd began to disperse, there was still no sign of her, and I was getting very chilled. She was in possession of the warm clothes that I was supposed to change into immediately after finishing. Thankfully, a medic noticed me pacing around the area and came over to check me out. I explained what was going on, he gave my vitals a quick check and led me to the infirmary area. He felt as though I may be going into shock from the cold and wrapped me up in a blanket. I was somewhat stabilized within 30min, and was watching the finish area very closely for any sign of my wife.

Not content to sit and wait, I returned the blanket, and told the medic that I was going to head out and see if our car was parked in the shuttle bus lot. It was a relatively small lot, so it would be easy to spot the car if it was there. It was possible that she had fallen asleep on the couch at home. I hopped on the next heated bus for the 10min trip to our lot, and spotted the car almost immediately as the bus pulled in. This confirmed that she was indeed at the event, but where? After two bus loads of people had arrived at the parking lot, about 30min had passed, so I headed back to investigate further. By this point I had left countless messages on her cell phone, updating the situation and my location. I also had informed the shuttle bus drivers and they were communicating via CB radio to be on the lookout.

As I arrived back to the race site, the full marathoners were filing out, and the finish area was becoming very sparsely populated. It had been 2 hours since I had crossed the finish line, and the shuttle buses were scheduled to cease in 1 hour. I tried to keep a level head on the exterior, but internally I had numerous dire scenarios cycling through my head. Over the course of the next hour, I had checked the infirmary, had her paged over the stadium's P.A. system two times, and had been to the parking lot area and back one more time. The final shuttle bus was leaving shortly, so I had begun to calculate a Plan B for getting home and dealing with this mystery from there. As I approached the lone bus, the driver immediately recognized me and gave me the "thumbs up" signal through the windshield. As I quickly hobbled toward the doorway, he mouthed the words "Found her.". As I limped off the bus for the last time, I thanked the driver and his crew for their help. She bolted out of the car and ran over to embrace me. I was beyond elated that she was OK, and after the initial shock subsided, I was anxious to hear her side of this ordeal.

She had arrived a little bit earlier than planned to stand alongside the race course and root me on. Near the runners' entrance to the stadium, she found a comfortable spot to view the final meters. Camera at the ready, she proudly waited to cheer on her hubby. But, she somehow managed to miss me as I tottered by. So there she remained, no cell phone (her battery had been drained), and no idea that I had already finished. She stayed in that spot for nearly 3 hours playing out her own calamitous scenarios of what may have happened. Certain that I was lost or injured, she did some investigation of her own, and finally managed to remotely check her phone messages, leading her back to the car. Good intentions gone bad, I suppose.

My recovery was more swift and much less painful than last year, and it was likely a combination of good preparation combined with a lot of (inadvertent) walking after the run. No chest congestion this time, just a day's worth of sore knees, and a few days of sore muscles. So, another year gone by, and another 13.1 miles under my belt. I would ultimately like to do at least one half marathon per year, maybe even working myself up to two. But, I won't consider the full marathon until my body weight is at or below the 200 pound mark. My joints just couldn't handle the punishment.

As for this blog, I will continue to compile my thoughts and post them on a monthly basis at the very least. I've really got to analyze what it's going to take for me to actually change my habits for the better. Check back here this time next month for a full progress report!

Thank you all so very much for your support, I will be a success story yet, mark my words.

Week 26 & 27 - The Time Is Nigh

Well, it's almost here, two days away. 21kms this Sunday morning. I feel very prepared, my last long run was perfect. I felt as though I could have done the 21kms that morning (I stopped at 14kms), now all I have to do is replicate that effort this coming Sunday.

The problem is that this whole exercise was supposed to inspire me to lose weight. Instead I have "maintained" at best, still hovering around the 240's. I'm going to have to step back and re-think this whole weight loss plan. As much confidence as I may have in myself, I just can't stop eating poorly. Nobody can stop me. I'll keep sneaking little nibbles here and there when no one is looking, as though I'm ashamed. It's a sad state that I've been in before, and without some sort of help, I'm not sure that I'll EVER snap out of it. I'm going to step away from this blog for the rest of the month as I try to sort out what it is that I need to do to get my mind in tune with my body. I feel as though I've tried everything apart from hypnosis, and I'm still in the same position I've always been, spinning my wheels.

I will post my results when they are made available, and then will take some time to sort things out for myself. Look for my next update at the beginning of July sometime.

Thanks for reading and please wish me luck for this Sunday, I'll surely need all the support I can muster.

Week 25 - Two Weeks To Go...

As the title states, I've got just over two weeks left until the half marathon. I've been adhering to my schedule very closely, only having to defer one or two days, but not missing one yet.

My left knee had begun to develop a slight ache or twinge, but an extra day of rest seemed to put every thing back in order. I'm going invest in a new pair of shoes this weekend to see if that will help ease some of the other little pains I've been dealing with. Both of my current pairs of shoes have seen many more steps than they likely should have, so I think it's time to make the commitment and treat my feet.

At the tail end of my last long run, I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a window as I lumbered down the sidewalk. I usually try to remain conscious of my posture, pacing, and breathing throughout the entire session, but I guess by this point I was a little tired. My feet were shuffling along, and I didn't appear to have much of a bounce in my step. I hope that I'll be able to correct these issues come race day, but it is very tough to remain energetic when I've got so much weight hammering down on my joints with each passing step. I'm pleased with my progress so far, but am also disappointed. Disappointed that I'll likely be the same weight as I was last year at this time. 12 months ago I was in the exact same position, telling myself "never again". Determined that I'd be fit and healthy by this time next year. Well here I am, telling myself the exact same things I did the year before. Never again. I want to be proud of myself, but it's difficult when it feels as though I've been spinning my wheels for the past 52 weeks.

I truly hope that I can one day look back on all of this and be proud of my accomplishments, but that road is paved with hard work, determination and discipline.

Week 23 & 24 - Back At It, Full On.

I don't really know how it happened, but I'm back and as focused as ever. The switch in my brain appears to have been flipped to "motivated", and there's no stopping me. I estimate that my weight will be back around the mid to low 230's, or even lower, by race day.

I've been diligently adhering to my training schedule, and have been able to see the improvements, even on a day-to-day basis. After only one full week of regular running and strength training, my endurance and pace have increased by nearly two fold. The weekend, though full of activity, was also filled with a little too much intake. Having the Monday off as a holiday, Sunday turned into an evening of excess in the food and drink department. Back on track for Tuesday, it felt as though I'd taken 10 days off. My lungs were heavy, my legs wobbly, my chest tight. All from one night of fun. Needless to say, that won't be happening again anytime soon. I feel very focused again, not able to waver.

I may be suffering from "too much, too soon", though. My 5 miler yesterday has left me quite winded this morning, and rather exhausted. I got plenty of sleep but just can't seem to wake up and get my energy going. I'll be taking it easy today, in preparation for a long one tomorrow.

There's not much else to report. As the day of the race approaches, I'll continue to share my progress regarding my pace and endurance, and how I'm managing to remain upright after all this running. See below for my formal training schedule.

Week 22 - "Diet" Isn't A Bad Word

I went to visit my naturopath this past week, and he's quite excited to have me try a new diet plan. The word "diet" has been misconstrued over the years, almost to the point of having lost it's true meaning. The mere mention of the word conjures up images of a non-stop barrage of leafy greens and tasteless broth, which is unfair. You should never "go on a diet", but you should be willing to "alter your diet".

Anyway, my naturopath wanted me to try this "new" diet plan. I usually heed his advice without question, but this time I felt a little skeptical. I flipped through the brochure, taking note of the images of fit and healthy people happily bouncing around. Once I arrived at the food chart, an alarm went off immediately. The first meal of the day was to consist of a protein shake. But not just ANY protein shake, an (insert the diet company's name here) shake. I've been seeing this naturopath for many years now, and he's never really pushed fancy marketing at me before. I mentioned that I wouldn't be interested in purchasing the "required meal supplements" for this plan. He was understanding, and said the meal plan alone can be effective without the shake. As I read on, I saw a lot of familiar information, as if I'd seen it somewhere before...

I've been at this for what feels like an eternity, filling my head with more knowledge than I thought I'd ever attain on the subject. And after years upon years of research, I've been able to pare it down to a very simple formula.

A healthy diet consists of frequent meals, smaller portions, fresh produce, lean proteins, and exercise.

Of course there's much more to it than just that, but I think most would agree that's a fairly accurate summary in 20 words or less. The "new" diet plan I was being pitched wasn't that "new" at all. It consisted of exactly what I already knew that I had to do. The problem that I'm having is how to consistently put my knowledge to good use. I've been told the same thing over and over again for years now, but for some reason my mind and body keep trending towards poor eating habits and inactivity. Do I need to be sent to the corner like a misbehaving child to learn my lesson? What will it take? I've sunk many dollars into diet plans, trainers, wagers, and athletic programs to try and motivate myself, but the ebb and flow of my life always sways me back.

Needless to say, I won't be sinking any money into a diet plan of which it's "secrets" are already known. All I have to do I apply the knowledge I already have, and really curb my weekend madness. Seriously, the garbage I've been slinging into my muzzle as of late has been monumental. I'm ashamed, but ready to smarten up again. On the fitness side of things, I've put together my training plan for the upcoming half marathon. If I can keep to the consistent schedule from now until then, I should be able to finish without too much of a problem. However, my first few "runs" have been anything but. Mostly a brisk walk with the occasional trot thrown in, but at least I'm getting out there again. I also need new shoes. Badly.

In summation, things have been stable for me lately. During the week, I'm a saint, but the weekends grab a hold of me and refuse to allow proper food to cross my lips. Now that I'm going to be physically active again (at least for the foreseeable future), it should make my transition from weekend disaster to someone with a more level-headed attitude towards how I fuel my body. It remains eternally frustrating to know what I should be doing, but continually refusing to do what I should be doing.

**NOTE: This is my 50th post, and it goes to show that I'm still "all talk", as the weight loss yo-yo continues to bounce...

Week 21 - Weight Gain and Funk Busting

My latest weigh-in was a bit of a catastrophic event. I hadn't stepped on the scale for at least two weeks, and I wasn't looking forward to my latest "mass assessment". As I stood before that evil little measuring device, I reflected over the past month, and all that I had done to earn the number I was about to receive. It all started with my birthday weekend. I had just fractured my rib and been forced to take it easy. No training allowed. Add to that the excesses that go along with a milestone birthday celebration, and you've got a belt-busting recipe. The problem is that after the dust had settled from the 4 day party, I was unable to hit the road to work off all those calories I'd taken in. Over the coming weeks, my sedentary lifestyle became more normal and comfortable as my rib healed. By the time I was ready to resume my training, I had fallen back into many of my old habits. It felt good to sit around rather than get up and be active, or so I thought. My brain and body were craving all the things that they shouldn't have been. I couldn't be bothered to lace up the running shoes as I continued to concoct infinite excuses and reasons to put off my training for yet another day. I attempted a few outings, but found myself yearning for the couch and a blanket. The pleasure that I used to derive from running or riding my bike had withered away into obscurity, and was replaced by the faux enjoyment of being a full-fledged couch potato. I found myself spinning into depression from being so inactive, which would cause me to be even less motivated to get up and do something about it. A vicious cycle indeed, and one that I still haven't fully escaped from.

Still standing before the scale, I eased myself onto it's cold, metallic surface. Leaning gingerly on the sink for support, I slowly began transferring the balance from my left hand to my feet, and watched the digits climb. Rocketing by the previous benchmarks I had set for myself, 225...230...235...240...my heart sank as the number settled on 242.6 pounds. I was seriously considering not posting my current weight, but the title does read "Weight Loss And My Struggles With It". I have earned every gram of weight that has returned, and there's no mystery as to why it is back. Positive or negative, I must be held accountable.

I ended up donating my spot in the run to a friend of mine that really did amazingly well. His effort was inspirational, and I hope it can kick me into gear to get fully prepared for the next 1/2 marathon. I've got 6 weeks to get myself back on track, and I'm fully confident that it will happen. If I can stay healthy and injury-free, I'll be lining up alongside him at the starting line on June 15th. I've created a training schedule for the coming weeks, and I've narrowed it down to daily goals, no procrastination allowed. Today's goals shouldn't be achieved tomorrow. I'm feeling more motivated now that I've put my thoughts into words, and am looking to snap out of this funk with the rejuvenated attitude and vigor that I had when this all began. It seems so simple, but it can also be the most daunting. Just lace them up and take that first step. From there, anything is possible.

Week 20 - Things Are Looking Grim...But...

With the 1/2 marathon only three days away, the assessment of my current fitness levels had to be fast and furious. I set out for a short run (that turned into a walk rather quickly), earlier in the week. I couldn't hold a slower pace for more than 3-4 minutes at a time, and my rib had become a little sore after bouncing down the pavement for a short while. I resorted to just walking the remainder, not admitting defeat per se, but knowing that I may not be capable of a 21km event so soon. As much as I wanted to participate, I had to remain realistic with my goals. My wife and I went out for a 10km adventure mid-week, and was again more of a walk than a run on my behalf. Again I struggled to find a pace that would allow me to run for an extended period of time. My cardio had suffered the biggest decline during my recovery, though my legs seemed to be holding up fine. This was to be the second to last test to see if I would be able to participate on Sunday, and things are not looking very positive.

If I was to search for a positive in this situation, it lies in how I will handle the adversity. If I can get back to, and hopefully surpass, my previous form, then I won't view this as a defeat. It would be yet another learning experience that I could place into my mental logbook. In order to pull a positive from this negative, I will have to commit to a consistent training schedule. To help get myself inspired again, I've tendered my entry fee for the "big" 1/2 marathon in June. Another touch of inspiration comes from a reader and a friend who's nearly completed his weight loss journey. He's lost nearly 50% of his starting body weight, a reminder that this truly IS still within my grasp.

Realistically, I shouldn't even be considering doing the run on Sunday, but a part of me still wants to lace them up and give it my best shot...we'll see what the weekend brings.

Week 18 & 19 - Dealing With Setbacks

It's been 7 months since I began this latest effort at getting fit and losing weight. If I had to review my performance to this point, I'd say "inconsistent with a lot of room to improve". The pain from my rib injury has finally subsided enough to resume my training, but the amount of time I've spent idle has set me back at least 3-4 weeks, maybe even longer. It's a frustrating feeling knowing the level I had achieved has waned away, leaving me feeling as though I'm once again starting over. The old me would have just as easily quit and left behind all the progress that I'd worked so hard to achieve. This time, I will have to strive to approach it from a positive point of view. My hard work can not, should not, and will not be overlooked.

I've forced myself to step back and analyze the situation. This stumbling block wasn't a direct result of a lack of initiative or effort on my part. In fact, the injury stemmed from intense physical activity. I was forced to the sidelines for a short while, and my time has now come to re-enter the fray. I've spent months building a solid foundation on which I can now continue to build. Though I may not be able to resume my training at the same pace it once was, the base level I've spent months creating should allow me to attain, and surpass, my previous benchmark. But, there's a caveat.

The 1/2 marathon is exactly 9 days from today. There's no conceivable way that I could be ready for a 21km run in 9 days, but that won't stop me from giving it a shot. If I'm feeling good about my fitness levels by the following weekend, I don't see any reason that I should not attempt the run. On the other hand, if I find myself struggling through 5-10km training runs this week, I may have to bow out of this one and look ahead to the summer's event, which itself is only 8 weeks away.

The only way to find out if I'm still capable of completing this run is to lace up, put my best foot forward, and just get out there and pound some pavement. Wish me luck, I'm going to need it.

Week 15, 16, & 17 - The "Party" Is Over And It's Time To Get Serious

The pain of my fractured rib has finally begun to subside, and I'm going to slowly reintroduce exercise and training back into my daily routine. The past three weeks have been spent undoing nearly all of the good habits I'd painstakingly instilled over the past few months. If I didn't smarten up and put a stop to this, there'd have been a influx of elastic waistbands and sweatpants in my future. Sugary indulgences, late night snacks, and sporadic meal times had all returned with a vengeance, but I've been able to snap out of that frame of mind. Reality had set in, the scale was no longer being very kind to me, and my clothes had once again begun to shrink. I'm up about 7 pounds, and have earned every bit of it. I have yet to officially lace up the running shoes, but my mental state is fully prepared for what awaits. I'm still going to train as though I'll be participating in the half-marathon which is just 23 days away. I haven't given up on that goal quite yet, though after my first good training session this weekend, I may have changed my tune.

As I munch on my morning snack of raw spinach, I yearn for the taste of pastry. Who knew that turning 30 involved so many desserts? The last three weeks have been a perfect example of what NOT to do when you're trying to lose weight. I wouldn't call it a "mistake" as of right now, and I don't carry any regrets, but I have to be smarter about my intake and fitness levels. Spring has definitely sprung, and it's time to start pounding some pavement as summer approaches. Certain activities that don't feel like exercise will help to kick start my desire. Spring cleaning is actually a fairly fun and somewhat strenuous activity, especially for a pack-rat such as myself. I'm also going to be dropping my bike off at the shop for a de-winterizing and tune-up for the warmer months to come.

Plans are great to have, but don't amount to much until they've been put into motion. I used to be much more of a "talker" than a "doer", and have proven that I'm capable of putting my words into action. It's time to once again act on these promises to myself. A lifetime of falling short of my own expectations can soon be put to an end, if only I can stay the course and consistently heed my own advice. And with that, I bid farewell to the weekends filled with salty snacks, sweet treats, and cheesy comestibles. We had a good time, but it's time to push on, toward a greater good. In reality these celebrations of food provide only a moment of happiness, and I'm yearning for a more permanent solution.

Patience pays...

I don't have a "formal" post as of yet, as I'm still recovering from my rib injury. I hope to be able to lace up the runners this coming weekend, and which will allow me to provide more inspirational and uplifting stories. As of now, I'm in need of a little "pick-me-up", and hopefully some exercise will get my mind and body back on track. I feel a little clouded and unfocused at the moment.

Until next week then, stay positive, and get off the couch!

Week 13 & 14 - DISASTER

My apologies for the delay between posts. Here's the details:

During a hockey game last week, I made an aggressive move to the net. In theory, this play should have resulted in a beautiful goal, followed by cheers and accolades from my teammates. But instead of sweeping the puck around the goaltender, I didn't bring the stick across my body fast enough. The stick blade lodged under his leg pad, plunging the butt-end of my stick into my lower chest and sending me airborne. Winded and seeing stars, a laid there for a moment, but decided to finish out the game since it was nearly complete. I did score twice during the game, but the hot topic in the locker room afterward was my acrobatic routine. With the amount of swelling that had already appeared, I figured I had missed my ribs entirely. During the remainder of the week, the area was sore, but not too sharp. I attempted a few runs in the days following, but it was difficult to maintain proper breathing at even a slow pace. Each impact of my feet would aggravate the area too much for me to continue. Four days after, I was back on the ice, this time for a practice. The swelling had reduced by this point, and after the practice, it felt worse than it had all week. The next day I went for an examination to see what I had done to myself.

The X-rays came back negative for any organ trauma, but positive for a rib fracture. The doctor recommended a week of bed rest, accompanied by 4-6 weeks of little to no physical activity. By this point, taking a shallow breath was a difficult task, and even going from a sitting position to standing involved quite a bit of discomfort. Since there's no way to set a break like this, the only prescription is to "just deal with it until it gets better". But here are the real disasters. The second "weight-loss competition" is scheduled to end this weekend, and I've since been unable to properly train and finish strong, eliminating me from contention. Also, the first 1/2 marathon that I've been preparing for is just 6 weeks away. It is highly unlikely that I'll be able to continue to condition for a race of that length with this injury.

While the pain in my ribs is ever present, I'm more frustrated with the fact that I may have to forfeit the chance to achieve one of my primary goals for the year. I've put a lot of effort into my training up to this point, and now I have to put it aside. I know I'll be able to start again in preparation for this summer's big run, but any setbacks, especially when I'm already motivated and fully committed, are a huge blow to an already damaged psyche.

Needless to say, my weight loss hasn't exactly been stellar. It seems that no matter what I eat, the exercise is the most important factor for me. I've reduced my calorie intake to reflect my "forced sedentary lifestyle", but even still it's not enough to keep the pounds coming off. I'm in a state of suspension, hovering around the 230's but not able to breach the threshold and stay in the 220's. I never thought I'd see the day that I wouldn't embrace the chance to be lazy and inactive. Now that the opportunity is here, all I want to do is get out of bed and run.

Week 12 - A Pants Update, and Training Woes

Many months ago (specifically in my posts from Day 2 and Day 3 ), I mentioned having to buy a pair of pants that were yet another size larger than my "big boy pants". To put things into perspective, the pants I had to supplement were a size 40 waist, the new pants a size 42. Since my weight has been toiling around in the low 230's, I've retired the 42's. I can't even keep them on without a belt, and they are so loose that it appears as if I've dressed myself in a brown garbage bag. The 40's are still in circulation, but I've run into the same problem as before, having only one pair of regular pants to wear. This puts undue strain on the laundry schedule, as well as the fact that I'm now reprising my role as "the guy who wears the grey pants". After some urging from my wife, I tried on a pair of my smaller, and now dusty, pantaloons.

My last experience with these 38's was less than favourable. It was the same day I was forced to promote myself to the now stalwart, grey coloured 40's. I remember sucking in my belly and cinching the waistline as tight as I could. The button was falling just short of it's destination, so I flopped on the bed to better arrange my girth. Ignoring all of the signs that I likely shouldn't continue pressing the issue, I managed to close the top of my pants, gingerly arise from the prone position, and turn to face the mirror. My waistline resembled a freshly baked muffin, its mass spilling over the sides of a tiny container, held in place by the will of nature. In my case, it was all held together by one little button. Straight out of a Tex Avery cartoon, the button decided it was not having much fun supporting the brunt of my excessive paunch, and promptly released itself from its thread-based restraints. Rocketing towards the mirror, the impact deflected it into the air, off the top of my head, and onto the floor. There it stayed, lifeless and defeated, as my pants slowly fell to join their fallen comrade.

My wife had observed that I may now be ready to try these poor leggings on again. I cautiously hoisted them upward, and began the customary "sucking in of the gut" to get that once traumatized little button properly secured. This time it came together quite easily, and the button showed no signs of repeating its acrobatic performance. "Snug" would be the best way to describe how the pants fit, but they were definitely wearable. I'm back into my 38's, and very much looking forward to getting my first pair of 36's before too long.

My training has been sparse at best, not that I haven't been active. Hockey games mixed in with racquetball throughout the week have provided me a great aerobic workout, but with very little treadmill time in between. With the first big race now 7 days closer, I've got to step it up a few notches in the coming weeks. It's starting to warm up around here, so I may even be brave enough to try a short run outside sometime soon. In order to be prepared to run 21kms, I'll need at least 6-8 weeks of outdoor training under my belt. The treadmill is fine for cardio preparation and some pace setting, but nothing compares to actually getting out and pounding the pavement. After a long winter of relying on the treadmill, the first few outdoor sessions will feel as though I've completely started over. The constant elevation changes, uneven running surface, and cool, crisp air can make for a startling experience. Especially after months of training in a climate controlled, perfectly level, speed adjustable bubble. The difference is that this time, I'm ready for the reality check, well, at least I hope I am. I'll have to power through it for "the little button that could". It's well earned.

Week 11 - Good Food Is Heavy, and Aging Gracefully

I usually assemble the following day's food the evening before. Washing, chopping and bagging, but rarely weighing the portions. After countless nights of food preparation experience, I've become quite adept at estimating proper serving sizes. To test my theory, I decided to weigh my portions, just to make sure I was still accurate, and not over or under feeding myself. I was still fairly spot on, but as I moved my lunch bag to the refrigerator, it felt quite bulky. Almost hefty. Out of curiosity, I lowered the bag onto the scale. Minus the weight of the containers, the food weighed in at 4.4 pounds (2 kgs)! Add to that all the water I take in, as well as my supper at the end of the day, and you've got a whole lot of eats. But when I peeked back in the bag, I didn't see anything that wasn't beneficial. Red pepper, carrots, spinach, apples, and soup. The soup was the weightiest culprit, but containing a variety of veggies (green beans, kidney beans, black beans, onions, celery, tomatoes), a broth consisting of water and a splash of hot sauce, and a little non-fat cottage cheese, I wasn't concerned. I was more amazed at the sheer mass of my daily intake. That would definitely account for the day-to-day-to-day weight fluctuations I've experienced, giving even more credibility to not weighing in on a daily basis. As long as the general trend continues downward, all is well.

I'm mere weeks away from turning 30 years of age. I hadn't really thought about it too much until very recently, but when I think about how old that seemed when I was a teenager, it's a little disheartening. It's not as though a magical switch will flip and I'll be transported to a world of collared-shirts-under-sweaters, expensive coffee and SUV's. I'll remain the same person I've always been, just one year wiser, and still striving to be fit. I had set a goal a few years back that I'd be at my maintenance weight by my 30th birthday, and it appears unlikely that will happen. However, if all still goes as planned I will have only missed the mark by a matter of months, or conceivably a few weeks. I'm now four weeks from my 30th birthday, nine weeks from my second 1/2 marathon, and about 25-30 pounds from my goal weight. With my fitness levels increasing, and my weight gradually decreasing, everything seems to be coming together as it should. It's comforting to know that hard work and discipline actually do pay off.

Week 9 & 10 - A "Moment Of Truth", Learning How To Rest, and Staying Consistent

The outcome of the first contest has been decided. It was a very close finish, and although I did end up dropping slightly more weight, I couldn't accept the final prize. I was overjoyed as to how motivated we'd been, and how we both pushed each other to succeed. As horribly cliché as it sounds, we had already been rewarded and there was no need to to favour one person's success over the other's. I had lost 7.0% of my body weight (17.4 lbs) over a two month span, and my competitor lost 6.0%. We've both benefited from this experiment, and will continue to do so using the good habits we've formed, as well as continually supporting each other along the way. No rest for the wicked, I've still got another competition on the go, and the first half-marathon of the year is quickly approaching. And though I likely won't take the "grand prize" in the next contest, I still feel as though I've come a long way regarding my weight issues and how I'm dealing with them. The true battle is with myself, so if I'm going to "lose" to the other contestants, that's an acceptable situation to be in, as long as I'm always pushing myself to improve. It's not about the final outcome, it's about the journey.

Forming good habits is extraordinarily difficult. I feel as though I've tried every exercise at every time of day, looking for the perfect combination of variables to give me that "Eureka!" moment. Lately, I've been training in the gap of time between the end of the work day and before supper. It seems to provide the best block of time with the least amount of interference, with the only problem being that I'm very hungry when I initially arrive home. I've tried modifying the time and quantity of my afternoon snack, but to no avail. It's almost a Pavlovian condition when I enter the house at that time of day, I have the need to feed. The best balance I have found is to have a very light meal before my workout if needed, and another small portion afterwards.

Chillin', relaxin', veggin'. In my experience, there had always been a point during the week where I, (intentionally or not), would miss a workout. I'd previously dismissed it as a "day of rest", but perhaps it was doing more harm than good. One missed day would become two, two became three, and before I knew it, a week would have passed before I even thought about training. My new outlook hasn't been overtly altered, but it does benefit from one small adjustment. Instead of going out of my way to be lazy on an "off day", I still perform my daily workout routine, but at a much lighter pace. Even a 20-30 min walk with light intervals is enough to maintain the habit of training, without actually training. Regardless of what my workout will consist of, I still change into my track pants, strap on the running shoes and hit the pavement or treadmill every day. Even if it's a "light" day, I haven't broken my habit, and will be much less likely to miss consecutive days.

When I stepped on the scale for my "official" weigh-in, I was very happy with the number, but I wasn't surprised to see it. I'd worked VERY hard every single day, by managing my food intake and training hard, to ensure that I'd finally see the results I deserved. I'm living proof that you don't need expensive memberships to fancy gyms, pills that claim to shed pounds while you sit around, or any other gimmick designed to take your money and leave you more depressed than when you started. All you need is a fridge stocked with fresh fruits and veggies, a good pair of shoes, and the mental strength to take that first step every day. With a little patience, the rest will take care of itself.

Week 8 - One Contest Nears An End, and Another Approaches The Halfway Point

I seem to be more enthusiastic towards physical activity when being pushed from an outside source. Having registered for a running event (which is now only 12 weeks away) has increased my motivation to lace up the shoes and get training on a more regular basis. Team sports rarely even feels like exercise, and is very beneficial. But I felt I needed something more, perhaps getting my family and friends more involved. A friendly competition, perhaps?

The first contest was between a friend and myself, a 9-week event with simple parameters. Whoever lost the highest percentage of body weight in the 9-week span, would win a prize donated by the other person. We had decided to keep our weights secretive until the final weigh-in, but because we visit so often, the conversations would always drift to the topic of weight-loss. What we were eating, the amount of exercise we'd be getting, and inevitably how much weight we were down. I found myself growing increasingly frustrated with how far behind I was falling as each week passed, and it wasn't from a lack of effort. We both struggled through the holidays, regained our composure shortly thereafter, and had been progressing very well. I was focusing more on the short term goals than on the actual reason we were doing this in the first place. It was to be a jump start to a healthier, fitter lifestyle. Yet, the feeling of constantly being competitive was causing me to question my abilities. I wondered how I could go week after week of consistently eating well and training hard without a significant loss to show for it. It was becoming more of a burden than an inspiration, because of my own fear of failure. I've since managed to put it in a much more realistic perspective. At the outset, it was agreed that if all went as planned we would both emerge victorious (in a cliché-type of way). We'd be living a healthier lifestyle and reaping the benefits that came along with it. I had to remind myself that we started this contest to motivate each other, not to just "achieve victory".

Word quickly spread of our little competition and I had a few other friends inquiring about participating. It appears that I'm not the only one that felt they would benefit from a friendly rivalry. I gathered the names of all that were interested and sent out the rules for their approval. 10 contestants, 10 weeks, highest percentage of weight loss wins. Everyone contributed a small prize to be combined in a "winner-take-all" format. I was ill-prepared for the onslaught of updates and weight-loss conversations I was subjected to over the first few weeks. We are just now approaching the halfway point of this contest, and the majority of my thoughts had been focused on keeping pace with the rest of the pack. This is an impossible task, since there are so many personalities and body types involved, we aren't all going to lose weight at the same pace. Some will have that initial push at the beginning and taper off, and some have developed a methodical and steady pace. (I represent the latter.) Whereas some people have really taken the event to heart and are striving to win the grand prize 6 weeks from now, I've had to distance myself from the direct competition and continue to focus on my own training. There's no sense in comparing my raw weight-loss and fitness levels with the others. Not that I don't want to win, but I'm more excited with the prospect of my friends improving their health and achieving their own goals along with me.

I had a great sense of relief when I stopped comparing my progress to the others. It has been great to just admire what each individual has already accomplished, and compliment them on the physical changes that are occurring almost daily. Waistlines are shrinking, faces are slimming, and I remain supportive of everyone's successes, staying focused on the REAL prizes that await us. Fitting into those old "skinny" jeans you've been hanging on to for years, that bathing suit you never thought you'd wear again, or pulling on your favourite sweater or shirt without fear of stretching it beyond recognition. You just can't put a price on good health.

Week 7 - Getting Flexible, and Increased Frustration

Flexibility is a cornerstone of fitness, and something I'm definitely lacking in. I had tried the most intense "hot yoga" a few years back and it was a fairly horrible experience, though providing me with an understanding of what happens when emotion precedes logic . I was still tipping the scales at around 280+, and wasn't exactly in tip-top condition. I walked into class, at the time still gradually re-introducing myself to the world of physical activity, and easily outweighing the next heaviest participant by a few sacks of potatoes. The instructor was very patient and welcoming, and put my mind at ease. Little did I know what I was getting into. As I entered the classroom, the heat blasted me directly in my face, briefly stifling my breath. I don't think an adjective exists to accurately describe the next 45 minutes of torment. I had never before been exposed to such extreme conditions of heat, combined with the expectation to hold my body in awkward and nearly unbearable positions. Before the class was even halfway complete, I had to excuse myself. Drenched in sweat, I managed to crawl to the washroom just in time to "un-eat" my previous meal and a litre of water. That sort of experience would normally be enough for anyone else to admit defeat, but being the glutton for punishment that I was, I returned for another attempt the following week. Not surprisingly I was met with the same result. Over the course of the next few months I tried 3 more times to complete a full class, thinking the benefits would be worth the agony. I completed only one out of the five I attended, after which the instructor pulled me aside. As I laid on the cool floor outside of the oven they masqueraded as a yoga studio, she put her integrity and my health before all else. She admired my perseverance, but recommended that I try a less intense activity until I was in better physical condition. All I could do was grunt and moan in agreement, and admit that I was submitting myself to the "too much, too soon" mentality once again. Now that I'm a few years wiser and a few pounds lighter, I still won't be returning to the "hot yoga" studio for a while, but I know that I have to get more flexible. I joined a nearby yoga class and had my first lesson this past week. In a room where I still outweighed the next largest individual by the margin of a medium-sized kitchen appliance, I was confident that I would be able to least make it through to the end. My flexibility is sub-par at best, so I obviously struggled with the majority of the exercises and poses, but I left feeling optimistic about my future visits, and rejuvenated about my health.

With an increasing amount of daily exercise, combined with my extraordinarily healthy diet, I assumed that would calculate into significant weight loss. Especially in the beginning stages of intensifying my workouts, I figured a 4-5 pound loss in a week wouldn't be out of the question. Not that I would expect to continue that sort of pace for longer than the first week or two, but the initial push should still be there, "water weight" as it's sometimes called. I have yet to see that sort of loss, in fact, this week my weight had actually increased. Some may argue that I'm "building muscle, which weighs more than fat". While true in theory, in my case I believe the fat to muscle ratio is still too great to have an effect on my overall weight. It should start to balance out around the 220-210 stage. So when I stepped on the scale after a week of hard cardio and healthy eating, I saw a higher number than I did 7 days prior. There are so many factors involved when tracking weight loss on a weekly basis, that a 1-2 pound swing in a 24 hour span is possible, almost predictable. But to consistently not lose weight over the course of an entire week has been quite disheartening. I would have much less of a problem with this if I was in "the last 10 pounds" stage or even nearing my goal weight. But I'm still 40+ pounds overweight at the moment, and feel as though the effort I put forth should yield a much more satisfying reward. All I can do is perhaps increase the intensity of my workouts, and if I go through another week of little to no change, I may have to alter my routines more dramatically. Not fully deflated or derailed, but certainly discouraged.

Mental preparation and stability has allowed me to handle adversity such as this. Ordinarily I'd have turned my attitude to "why bother", hit the couch with my favourite snack, and worried about the consequences further down the road. I know that's not an option, and instant gratification cannot be expected. I have no choice but to simply shrug it off, and keep at it as determined as ever. It's time to turn up the heat...not literally, of course.

Week 6 - The Treadmill Dislikes Me, And I Like To Cook

There's no escaping the fact that I'm a large man. As much as I notice the subtle losses from day to day and week to week, the reality of the situation is that I'm overweight. Improving, refining and progressing, but still a work in progress. Our treadmill is very industrial, more durable than those found at a local gym, a beast and a workhorse. However, I don't believe it was designed to have a 240+ pound individual run at 10mph for any length of time. Even if it was, it's none too happy about the situation. During the week I'm currently running either intervals or hills. My intervals consist of 1/8 mile walk followed by an 1/8 mile run that increases in speed as the session wears on. I hope to bring that up to a more effective 1/8 walk and 1/4 run, though I think the machine has other plans. I had gone through 8 cycles, ramping up for the next burst of speed. As the motor's subtle whine increased in pitch, my pace began picking up steam. Within moments my feet were pounding out an urgent rhythm and I was fully engrossed in the moment, staying focused on my breathing, ensuring my hands were relaxed, elbows close to my sides, halfway there, hang in there, breathe, hang in th-------STOPPED. The display went blank and I was again left to fumble around as my heart was shocked into recovery mode, leaving me in a less than ideal condition for precise motor skill function. Amped up and slightly trembling, my hands fumbled around with the circuit breaker switch that had once again been shaken loose from it's housing. By the time it was operational, my body had already crashed. I walked out the remainder of the session, trying to determine how to prevent this from happening time and time again. We'll likely have to get the machine tuned up in the near future, and I'll have to keep my speeds lower until then, more hills and pace work.

The desire for sweets and salty snacks has begun to subside again, the energy once used to combat those cravings further motivates me to succeed. Not that I'm completely depriving myself of the occasional treat, it's just that the size and type have been scaled back. I've once again struck that magic balance that allows me to feel satisfied with my eating, rather than always wanting. As my will power strengthens, so too will my focus. I've been preparing my own meals, and as I refine my recipes a certain sense of pride comes along with it. I now find myself looking forward to lunchtime to eat my own creations, rather than something with half the flavour, a fraction of the nutrition, and two to three times the calories.

Though I've mentioned this in a previous post, it still seems to occur frequently, so I must revisit it. I found myself at the grocery checkout, with my usual bag upon bag of fresh produce. In an attempt to cut down even further on my sodium intake, I've stopped buying pickled jalapeño peppers and added a few bags of fresh hot peppers at a fraction of the cost. As the cashier began weighing in and tallying my purchases, she asked "What's with all the vegetables?", to which I replied, "They're good for you.", trying to sound as sincere as possible since it could easily have come across as sarcasm. She then explained how she rarely, if ever, has people checking out with only produce. I suppose it's usually one pepper and a few tomatoes going into a salsa recipe, or a few apples destined to meet a flaky pie crust. I told her that the bulk of what I eat is fresh produce, raw fruits and veggies. She nodded her approval accompanied with a smile, and I headed home.

My next hockey game is quickly approaching, and I'm sure I'll notice a change in my endurance from the last time, considering how hard I've been working. I've had no shortages of motivation this past week. Hitting the treadmill is becoming less of a chore with each passing day, and eating properly has become second nature. The most difficult part of this whole ordeal is convincing myself that I will accomplish my goals, and putting all of my knowledge and experience into practice. I now truly feel as though I can. I'm not quitting on myself this time, I've got to see it through.

Week 5 - It Begins For The Last Time

The week commenced with me standing downstairs in my running attire. The pants and shirt were fitting slightly tighter than the last time, and I was wondering if they'd possibly shrunk in the wash. As I stood at the front of the treadmill, admiring it's construction and overall "space-age" aesthetics, I felt myself drifting off into a sleep-like trance. I switched on the machine with the toe of my extremely white running shoe, slowly shuffled around to the side of the machine, and placed my hand on one of the supports. Deep breath in, and out. I thought back to when I crossed the finish line of the half marathon last summer, and how much pride I felt. Every stride that I had fought through to get to that point seemed to assimilate into one massive positive experience. All the training, sweating, complaining, and pain I had put myself through seemed to vanish at that one precise moment, making it all worthwhile. But here I stood, waiting for some otherworldly force to guide my foot towards that first step. My mind was remembering the successes and accomplishments, but my body was firmly entrenched in the memories of the physical torment and abuse it was again going to receive. "All I have to do is start.", I told myself aloud. I placed one foot on each side of the belt, and hit the "START" button. The motor whirred to life and I took one more deep breath. "Here we go." One foot followed the other, and I quickly found my rhythm. I anticipated a short session considering the amount of time that had passed since my last run. The goal for the evening was to just get started and feel it out, so after a brisk 40 minutes I felt satisfied with my effort. I didn't live up to my lofty expectations, but it wasn't bad for an initial attempt. I didn't quit on myself.

The next day I had a hockey game, the first one in a few weeks. I laced my skates, strapped all the pads in place, pulled the jersey over my head, and stepped onto the ice as I had done many times before. After my first shift I felt as though I might collapse. It's quite amazing how quickly one can fall out of shape, not that I was really in shape to begin with. As I came to the bench, completely spent, I looked up at the clock to see that there was still 57 minutes remaining. I took a quick swig of water and tried to regain my composure. As I brought my head up to observe the action, I noticed the pace of the game was almost frantic. Without a moment to think, the winger came to the bench for a change and I vaulted over the boards and back into action. The action was non-stop, up and down the length of the rink, I could feel my heart beating in my throat, and my lungs and legs were burning. Time to change. I skated hard to the bench and was awarded with a pat on the helmet in appreciation of a job well done. Once again seated, I began to feel woozy so I took another shot of water, and leaned back to open my chest up for some deep breaths. Barely ten minutes in and I'm already spent, but there's no rest for the wicked, and out I went again. By the end, I was a winded, exhausted mess. Definitely "too much, too soon", but well worth it. It made me realize that I can't let up on the physical activity if I want to continually participate and improve. As weary as I was afterward, I eagerly anticipated the next game.

Even after all that, the following day I was on the treadmill again. This time ready to replicate my struggles from the day before. No pep talk needed, I bounded down the rubber-belted runway as determined as ever. Pushing myself to the edge, I thought of how much I will improve in the coming weeks. My limits at this moment will seem like a mere warm-up a month from now, and that motivates me to get back to that level and beyond. After only three days, I could already feel myself becoming stronger and more confident in my abilities. Urged on by the aggressive music blasting into my ears, I actually exceeded my expectations. I was attempting a run/walk dynamic that I thought may have been a little too ambitious, but I powered through it. I finished knowing that I was back in control of myself, and my actions. Ready to take on my toughest challenge, ME.

Focused and confident, my eating is under control, and I'm fully committed to my conditioning. Training for a half-marathon that is taking place in only a few months, and yet another later on this year, there is no room for lapses. I no longer hope that I will stay honest with myself and see this through, I know it. Bring it on, because I'm ready.

Week 3 & 4 - Surviving The Holidays, and Planning Ahead

Many people thought I was crazy to be so strict through the holiday season, and they were right, it was a little unrealistic. In the past I've hit both ends of the holiday spectrum, in that I've had many years of bingeing experience, coupled with the one year of misery where I was far too strict with myself. This year I entered the holidays knowing that I would allow myself reasonable amounts of food, drink, and sweets, while not going completely over the top one way or the other. Everything went to plan, and I even got a few chances to exercise. And though my weight may have gone up after the dust had settled, I can look back knowing that I had a great time, and after a few days of being back on track, everything should be back to normal.

It's actually quite nice to come back to a regular routine after the holidays. My sleep schedule was a complete mess, and I was eating through the entire day at times. Getting my eating back on track hasn't been that difficult of a transition, but getting psyched up to consistently workout has been a bit of a stumbling block. So, as a gift to myself, I registered for a half marathon on April 27th. The weather will be a little chilly, but I think the brisk Spring air will be beneficial. My training won't hit full stride until mid-January, or maybe even the end of January. The excitement of the event tends to make me want to train as if I've already been running for months, which would just lead to disappointment. I've got to reign myself in to ensure a gradual increase in distance and pace, otherwise I might burn out and not even make it to the starting line. In addition to the April run, though dependent on how well my training goes over the next few months, I'll be signing up for another half marathon on June 15th, the same one I ran last year. After a brief appraisal of my present condition, you'd likely think I was being a little too ambitious, or even slightly deranged to attempt such a feat in 16 weeks. The reason I've signed up for the April run is to prove to myself that I CAN and WILL do this. I've committed to it, and now I have to follow through with it. No "cramming" for this run, as I've learned from my mistakes and will be thoroughly prepared. There's no better motivator for me than setting a date, a firm goal to achieve, and now the first date is set. April 27th - 21kms. I don't have a goal as far a finishing time goes, though I'm looking to better my time from my first attempt. Just talking about it gets me adrenalized, and I can't wait to start training. Hopefully I can maintain this enthusiasm through the coming weeks.

Short and sweet today, but fear not. I'm back on schedule for weekly updates, and with the friendly competitions still going strong there will be lots to talk about in the coming weeks.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."
~ Lao Tzu