Race Day Recap (July 2009)

The morning of the half marathon began as expected, but quickly turned to the unexpected.

As we arrived at the starting line, the temperature was comfortable, there was a light breeze, and the sun was playing peek-a-boo from behind the occasional billow of cloud. Perfect conditions for a 21km trot. However, the morning forecast had predicted blazing heat with no cloud cover, but we'd have to wait and see what was in store for us. As I conferred pre-start with my running mate (and dear cousin) regarding landmarks, water stations, running etiquette and hand signals, our time to begin was quickly approaching. She was our acting time keeper and pace monitor. I had instructed her to push us to our limits, as I knew her pace was slightly faster than mine and her natural tendency would be to maintain our desired clip. As we crossed the starting line, our pace locked in as though we'd been training together for months, though she'd just arrived from out-of-town two days prior.

After the first 5km were behind us, we found ourselves cutting an effortless path through the streets, well on pace to surpass our personal bests. The temperature was rising, but the clouds mercifully remained, keeping us protected from any energy-sapping direct sunbeams. By the time we reached the 10km mark, I felt fantastic. My joints were pain-free, my breathing was steady, and my pace was true. As she provided us with our progress report, I performed a quick calculation to estimate our time of arrival. By the 10km mark we were set to cross the finish line at around 2:10, which would have eclipsed last year's time by over 20 minutes! I became very excited, but had to reel in the emotions. We were already halfway there, but still had halfway to go.

As we ducked and weaved through residential streets, I looked up through a canopy of trees to notice the clouds had all but left us. The heat and humidity were still rising, but up to this point we had been spared from the sun's direct gaze. Having experienced the layout of this course before, I already knew what was waiting for us just around the bend. The open road. The shield of green was behind us, and we were fully exposed to the unflinching brutality of the sun. As it beat down on my brow, I could feel my legs becoming weaker and my breath beginning to labour. Only 6.5km remained, but it was destined to be the most difficult distance I'd ever had to endure.

The first 15kms that seemed so effortless was quickly forgotten. Our once confident bounce had been reduced to a shuffle. The water stations seemed to grow further apart, and our pace had noticeably slowed. The crowd that lined the streets were armed with water cannons to help cool us off, but we needed actual internal hydration to accompany the exterior temperature relief. Sirens had begun to dominate the once tranquil atmosphere as EMT's were attending to, and transporting away, exhausted participants that had fallen to the side of the road. The severity of the situation became more apparent as we approached the final hill and the last 5km.

It's a relatively flat course, with the only real incline occurring less than 5km from the finish line. We had made a promise to each other not to stop or walk under any circumstance, as once that rhythmic bounce has ceased, it would have been an impossible mission for either of us to start up again. We pushed our way up the hill, passing hordes of runners forced to walk or unable to continue. Pace was the furthest notion from our minds as we reached the crest of the final hill, all we wanted was to finish.

Less than 3km remained. I could feel my body yearning for rest. I began searching for a song that would provide me the inspiration I needed to push on. After a few moments of fidgeting with my music device I swatted the headphones out my ears in frustration. My mental stability was starting to break down. My breathing was so laboured it began to resemble a sort of sobbing...crying. I looked to my cousin for words of encouragement, but she was having a tough time of it as well. She didn't respond, though I can't verify that the sounds coming out of mouth at that point were coherent enough to be considered a language. Only 2km left, and my feet spontaneously attempted to try walking. It only lasted for a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity. My knees felt like rubber and I thought I might fall. I used a sort of "falling forward" motion to start shuffling again, and caught up to my cousin who hadn't gotten too far ahead of me. As I approached her, I muttered the words "too fast" in hopes that she'd allow us to slow up a little bit. She spun around, whacked me on the arm, and told me to "SHUT UP!". My body was still in shambles, but that shot in the arm gave me the burst of mental stability I needed to power through the last few kilometres. As we entered the stadium, she said "Let's go!" and we "sprinted" across the finish line on wobbly legs. Our feet simultaneously hit the mat and we were promptly escorted to the recovery area by the wonderful volunteers.

After refueling and feeling a little more normal, we met up for a post-race analysis. I thanked her for the smack in the arm, and told her it briefly snapped me out of the mental fog I was in, and gave me the encouragement to push hard to the finish. She gasped, "Too fast??? I thought you said too fat! I didn't want you to be negative, so I smacked you! I totally would have slowed down." She then pointed to her right shoe that had a fair amount of blood soaked through. She admitted that she should have trimmed her toenails prior, as one particularly sharp one rubbed a hole into her toe fairly early on. Ouch!

2:27:38 was our final time, still almost 10 minutes faster than last year!

Afterwards, I swore that would be the last one for me. The memories were so fresh and horrible, there's no way I'd ever put myself through that again. But two days later, I was already lacing them up. I suppose either the benefits outweigh the pain, or I'm just an idiot. ;)

P.S. You may notice that my weight is heading in the wrong direction. Thankfully, I'm addressing it now before it once again gets completely out of control. I think 235 by October is still completely possible. I'm working hard, and hoping for better results as the summer winds down. Thanks for reading, and look for another update near the beginning of August.

Mini-Update for May...

I've been short on time lately, and with the half marathon fast approaching, my schedule has been filled with hard training and sound sleeping.

My weight isn't really dropping at a rate that I approve of, but it IS dropping. I've remained disciplined with my eating and workouts, hopefully culminating with a successful 21km run on the 21st of June. My longest run was 15kms last weekend, and that was in a less than ideal situation. I think after this weekend I should be well-prepped and ready to go. Feeling confident.

Long story made short, everything has been going as planned, but I'd still like to see a greater drop in weight over a 4-week span. My 3-month WW membership expires at the end of the month, and I don't think I'll be renewing. We'll see how the summer goes on my own, I may be back for a tune-up in Autumn.

"Mini-update" indeed. Nothing news-worthy, but I still felt inclined to share what little I did have.

Reasonable portions make for reasonable waistlines!

Expect The Unexpected

During the first few weeks of the month I was becoming much more comfortable with my exercise program. It was feeling more routine, and the positive mental aspects were all coming back to me. Daily exercise was becoming a more habitual experience, and my food intake was spot on with the program. I also found myself becoming less concerned with how the scale was reacting. I wouldn't call it a "plateau", though it seemed that my body was still adjusting to regular physical activity. I was on the right track, but I knew there was a monkey wrench just waiting to be thrown into the mix. A holiday. And not just a long weekend at home, we're talking out of the country. My dear cousin was having her wedding in Mexico, and though our extended family is spread all over North America, we all remain quite close. Save for a few exceptions, the entire family would convene in Cabo San Lucas for a week of food, drink, and much celebration. A wonderful combination, but not conducive to any form of weight-loss program.

I arrived with the best of intentions. After the first evening, I rose bright and early to hit the gym. My Aunt and Uncle from Salt Lake City were also there, also trying their best to keep their routines intact. I felt great as I rocketed through an hour-long session of weights, bookended by light cardio. Unfortunately, my first visit to the gym was also my last. Though I was up early enough every morning, all it took was a day or two before my gym routine was replaced with a much less strenuous activity: Lounging Around. That's not to say the entirety of my days were spent horizontal. There was a fair amount of walking, swimming, and playing in the waves. Activities that are deceptively vigorous.

Meal times were sporadic at best, but always well stocked. My Aunt from New Brunswick was at the helm for the most part, but as the week wore on, we became more independent with our daytime meals. Everyone was operating on their own schedules, and this tended to work better. All of the food was stored in the "adults" room on the other side of the resort from the "cousins" room. I stocked our own fridge with a few quick "heat and eat" items in case of late-night emergencies, but they weren't very popular or necessary. Needless to say, we were well fed. But not having snack items in our room was quite the blessing. I found myself eating much less than usual, and the calorie intake from the daily meals (by my estimate), was enough to sustain my requirements. I wasn't keeping a daily log of my intake, but found myself mentally flagging possible trouble spots. For example, one breakfast offering consisted of eggs, pancakes with syrup, and fried ham. I had some eggs on toast, followed by a single pancake (light on the syrup), and some fresh fruits and veggies. Not the heartiest of meals, but by skipping the "big ticket" items, I was able to smartly avoid the high calorie options. This is how I operated through the week. There was always a lower calorie option that I could load up on, while still being able to sample some of the more decadent options. (Avocado and paneer, FTW!)

As I arrived home sunburned and exhausted (3 flights and 1 overnighter - both ways), I was more than a little curious to see how much damage I had done. I honestly expected to have put on no less than 5 pounds, attempting to convince myself that would be an acceptable margin of gain, though I'd done everything I could to prevent such a thing from happening. I'd already gone through the entire month without ANY loss, so a gain at this point would be crushing. I eased both feet on the scale the morning after arriving home. I closed my eyes and looked downwards, and as I slowly squinted them open I expected the worst. DOWN 2.2? Come on now. That can't be right. I reset the scale and try again. Same result.

Wow. Expect the unexpected, I suppose. :D

I'd like to extend a HUGE thanks to my Mom and Grandma for making this trip possible, and a special thanks to all my family for making it a memorable one.

And to the newlyweds: Cookies & Cream.........Reese's Pieces.

A Fresh Start? You Bet!

I really felt as though I was at the end of my tether, unable to afford to keep my personal trainer, and hopelessly confused about why I couldn't shake the excess weight. As far as I knew I was eating properly, working hard at the gym, and pushing myself even harder on my days away. Something drastic had to happen, and just when I thought I'd already tried it all, there seemed to be another idea there waiting for me. In the history of my writing in this journal, I've gone out of my way to avoid proper names and product placement, but I'll have to break the rules this time. I joined Weight Watchers Online. I've heard of, and actually known, more "real people" finding success with this plan than any other, and it's one avenue I had yet to attempt. I'd always been hesitant to join, foolishly thinking that if I couldn't lose weight "on my own", then it wasn't worth attempting. Considering the amount of money I've spent to this point on meal plans, gym memberships, and assorted pills, I justified this expense as "yet another investment". Though if I was to add up all of the finances that have exchanged hands in the pursuit of my own "physical utopia", I'd likely be retiring at a much younger age. Yet, in this new structure, it seems as though it will be one of the most affordable (and hopefully most successful) plans that I've put together for myself.

Firstly, I haven't completely divorced myself from my trainers. That would be impossible, as they are very supportive, and crucial to my pending success. They are now supplying me with monthly workout plans that I will perform from home. Of course, to furnish this particular portion of the plan I've had to invest in a set of dumbbells and a bench. As the sales clerk swiped my plastic, bleeding my bank account of its precious payload, I had to step back and analyze how this purchase related to the countless others I've made over the years. I found the equipment for a fair price, and they would "pay for themselves" in only two months. (I've never been a huge fan of that phrase, especially when I'm not deriving any direct income from the purchase.) However, by curbing my gym attendance for two months and using the home equipment instead, the cost and savings of each will be balanced. Here's hoping that they don't end up like the cornucopia of other weight sets and machines purchased around the world on an hourly basis, doomed to collect dust or become encased in a laundry-lined tomb.

Secondly, my intake has been completely revamped by the Weight Watchers plan (to be referred to as "WW" hereafter). My initial weigh-in was a whopping 262, and I'm now down to 250 after a 4 week span. Surprisingly (to myself but not to many others), I wasn't eating as much I should have been. Not by a long shot. Being so grossly under my body's daily requirements caused it to think I was starving myself, and it stored every stitch of energy whenever it could. I wouldn't have believed it if I didn't see it for myself, but eating less does not translate into losing weight or gaining muscle, at least not for me. So now I'm eating more, and dropping weight, go figure.

Lastly, now that hockey is done for the season, I've once again charged myself with completing a half marathon on June 21st. Having been through the process a few times, I know what to expect, but it's still no easy task. I figure it's a very good inspiration to keep active for the coming months, lest I find myself crumpled in a heap 100 meters from the starting line. I'll also be bringing a phone with me this time (as well as my cousin-in-law!), to help prevent a repeat performance of last summer's post-event disaster. Training is underway, and I expect to finish under the 2:30 mark this year. Not blazing speeds by any stretch of the imagination, I'm still just pleased to finish.

Now that my eating situation is taking care of itself at the point, all I need is that daily desire for activity! It's all about routine, self-motivation and just knowing that it needs to be done. I've said it before, but all I have to do is take that first step, and the rest will follow.

Tune in next month to find out how I manage to stay on plan while away on holidays! Not an easy undertaking, but I'm up for the challenge.

Thanks for reading, and stay lean!

4th Month - Frustrations Are Mounting

Albert Einstein once said that the definition of insanity is repeatedly performing the same task while continually expecting a different result. That's how this past month went for me. My routine was as solid and as strict as ever, yet every time I would take a quick review of my progress, the same result would be staring back at me. My clothes remained tight, but my will was unbroken as I pressed on. I continued on through the days and weeks, waiting for the big drop that I was continually assured was coming. It refused to materialize.

Everyone that I spoke to seemed to think that either the scale was wrong, or the measurements were inaccurate. "You look fine!", was the oft heard phrase, though it was doing me no good considering I sure didn't feel that way. Sure I was getting a little stronger, but even my trainers were stumped at my lack of progress. They marveled at how I operated at such a high level of intensity, but were baffled at the lack of progress. I was doing everything correctly on paper, but it was time to find out exactly what was going on. I made an appointment to have my body composition tested. An official summary of exactly what was going on under the surface.

As I sat waiting for my appointment I noticed a chart on the wall of the office, explaining the rudiments of body composition. In short, it summarized how "being healthy" wasn't about "being skinny". If you were to go on a crash diet without any exercise, you're body would be harvesting your lean muscles for energy, thereby leaving all the unhealthy fat behind, slowly suffocating your organs. Conversely, via a balanced diet and daily exercise, the lean muscles would be able to thrive and your body would turn to the fat storage as a source of energy. It's a simple formula that just makes sense. As I've said before, that number on the scale can be quite deceptive, and this just further enforces that point. Fitness, lean muscle mass, and lowering my body fat % are the primary goals, with the overall weight following close behind. The test results were not the least bit surprising. My lean muscle wasn't increasing, and my body fat % wasn't decreasing. Something wasn't adding up, and I still have yet to put my finger on the source.

I've since completely revamped my food intake, adding more proteins and cutting the sugars even moreso. After this next month, I unfortunately will have to stop going to see my trainer(s) on a regular basis, for no other reason than it's just not affordable. Hopefully they'll be able to put together a plan that will allow me to continue my training away from their gym for the time being. The timing couldn't be worse, but I'm of the mindset that "some things happen for a reason". I'm hopeful that something drastic will happen with my progress in the coming month, which will allow me to shake this cloud of frustration. For all the effort I've been putting forth, I don't feel it's beyond reason to expect more positive results.

As the Springtime thaw begins, I hope these spinning wheels of mine can catch some dry pavement.

3rd Month - Finally Some Good News

Over the past while, I've used this journal to try and motivate myself with various catch phrases, clichés, and positive thinking. Though somewhere in my monthly summary I would always manage to sneak in a disparaging comment about how I broke from my eating and/or exercise program, followed by how I planned to prevent it from happening in the future. It's time to break from that tradition.

During this past month, I made excellent progress on all fronts, and my pace didn't falter. In the gym 3 times a week, playing hockey 2 times a week, and hitting the treadmill on the remaining 2 days. A torrid pace, to say the least, but one that I've managed to adjust to. The motivation seems to come from within, almost as if that "switch" has again been flipped. My mind and body are in agreement that what I'm doing is beneficial, and the usual cravings have subsided and given way to the daily routine. Good habits have taken the place of the bad, and any thoughts of missing or skipping a workout are always fleeting.

In the gym, I've become almost completely self-sufficient. The trainer will have the day's routine prepared, but will only need to instruct me on where to go and what to do. No longer do I require the constant coddling, pushing and prodding of a new recruit. It invokes an extra boost of confidence knowing the the trainee has the explicit trust of the trainer to perform each movement in a textbook fashion. It actually pushes me to perform beyond my limits to maintain that level of faith.

At the hockey rink, my comfort and skill levels have skyrocketed. I've matured from a role that was best described as "comic relief", to an actual presence on the ice. I'm not a superstar by any stretch of the imagination, but knowing that I can actually have a positive influence on the team when I step on the ice is definitely something to be proud of. I take longer strides, am able to actually handle the puck and make plays, and find myself in far fewer instances of panic. All of these add up to a far more enjoyable experience, and I'm getting a great full body workout.

At the supper table, I'm using small plates to ensure that I don't over do it. I've stopped eating out of containers, since it's far too easy to have too much of a good thing. It's amazing how much yogourt one person can consume if it's not portion-controlled. I've also started to really scrutinize every morsel that falls between my teeth. 100 calories here and there can really add up during the week, and learning how to eliminate these little "calorie counters" is essential to successful weight-loss. That little piece of cheese I'd have once a day? Removed from my daily routine to the tune of almost 800 calories per week!

As badly as I want immediate results, I have to constantly remind myself that it's a journey of small steps. Each small victory is still a victory, and should be celebrated as such. This past month was a definite success, and I'm hoping to be able to provide a similar report for the next.

Instead of giving myself reasons why I can't, I give myself reasons why I can.

2nd Month - I'm only human...

Adversity doesn't take a holiday. At least, that's what I'm telling myself.

December brought with it a back injury, and a mental lapse which led to a physical relapse. Though the scale may say that I'm worse off than when I started, it's not all bad news, though that's exactly where I'm going to begin.

Performing intense physical activity no less than 5 times per week is a difficult task for even the heartiest of competitors. To subject myself to such torture was a necessity, in that it kept me off the couch and in a solid routine. Two consecutive days without regimented exercise would have me looking to those bad habits that I'd been working so hard to forget. After one particularly grueling session, I had trouble getting out of the car, but just figured that it was standard soreness. I foolishly proceded to sit the night away. After all, I'd earned it, right? After a short while I attempted to get up, and found that I couldn't straighten my back or my legs. I crawled upstairs to the bedroom to try and stretch out the pain, but it wasn't about to start cooperating. After a visit to my chiropractor, we determined that it was a muscle injury, and I'd be back on my feet (and to the gym) in a week or two. I spent the following days stretching my back and legs, but I was otherwise immobile, shuffling around like an arthritic octagenarian. In that time, coupled with a few holiday meals, I managed to undo most of what I'd accomplished. The muscles that were still just developing have gone back to their original mushy state, my cardio conditioning has all but vanished, and my belt has had to be loosened by a notch (or two). But, I'm not discouraged in the slightest.

Now that my back is healed, I'm prepared to start over once again. Though I know the progress I'd attained is now in the past, I feel exhilerated to return to the form I once held. I'm going to be running at least one half-marathon this year, and my lovely cousin is making a special trip across the country to join me. It's always easier to get up for a workout when you know there's someone else depending on you.

Though it may seem that I've taken a step back, I finally feel mentally prepared to focus all my energy towards my goals. The past will remain history, and the future is ready to be shaped by the actions of the present. I don't think I've ever felt this confident, I'm honestly ready for this.