Weight Loss And My Struggles With It

Race Day Recap (July 2009)

2009-07-21T12:19:00.008-05:00

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...

2009-06-09T12:48:00.003-05:00

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

2009-05-11T10:48:00.008-05:00

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!

2009-04-06T15:52:00.015-05:00

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

2009-03-04T14:06:00.003-06:00

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

2009-02-09T10:59:00.003-06:00

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...

2009-01-02T12:33:00.004-06:00

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.

1st Month - Compliments From Strangers

2008-11-24T10:56:00.006-06:00

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...

2008-10-24T10:06:00.005-05:00

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

2008-07-31T12:37:00.004-05:00

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

2008-06-24T15:11:00.002-05:00

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

2008-06-13T12:34:00.004-05:00

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...

2008-05-30T10:59:00.002-05:00

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.

2008-05-23T09:26:00.005-05:00

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

2008-05-09T11:25:00.003-05:00

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

2008-05-02T09:40:00.008-05:00

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...

2008-04-25T14:52:00.002-05:00

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

2008-04-18T09:19:00.002-05:00

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

2008-04-04T10:20:00.003-05:00

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...

2008-03-28T13:14:00.004-05:00

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

2008-03-14T12:02:00.015-05:00

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

2008-02-29T09:54:00.012-06:00

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

2008-02-22T11:38:00.007-06:00

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

2008-02-15T08:31:00.000-06:00

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

2008-02-01T13:45:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-25T11:21:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-18T10:35:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-11T11:24:00.000-06:00

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

2008-01-04T11:27:00.000-06:00

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

Week 2 - Learning From Past Mistakes

2007-12-19T13:51:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

Week 1 - New Beginnings

2007-12-15T12:37:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

2007-11-30T14:13:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-11-22T15:11:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

2007-11-15T11:49:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-11-09T13:37:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

2007-11-06T11:13:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

2007-11-02T11:41:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

2007-10-30T15:27:00.001-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-10-26T08:35:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-10-23T10:30:00.001-05:00

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

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

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

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

2007-10-19T13:14:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

2007-10-15T14:16:00.001-05:00

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

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

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

Day 26-30 - Frustrations and Staying The Course

2007-10-10T10:51:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

Day 25 - Another Kick In The Pants & Insane Adverts

2007-10-05T13:31:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

Day 24 - Spreading Myself Thin

2007-10-04T09:15:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

2007-10-03T13:03:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-10-02T10:33:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-10-01T12:29:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

Day 18 - Comedy As A Crutch

2007-09-28T10:03:00.001-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

Day 17 - Appreciating A Time Of Transition

2007-09-27T13:17:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

Day 16 - Weighing Less Just Comes With The Territory

2007-09-26T08:58:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-09-25T08:21:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-09-24T08:40:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

2007-09-21T08:41:00.000-05:00

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

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

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

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

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

2007-09-20T10:30:00.001-05:00

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

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

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

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

Day 9 - Dealing With "Why?" and Too Much Too Soon

2007-09-19T08:26:00.000-05:00

The mornings prior were normally met with what can best be described as a "good ache". The feeling that my muscles had been worked over, but were revitalized. Day 9 begins with fatigue, the first time I've really felt tired since I started. Sore, down to the bone. Step on the scale, not much progress, but still in the right direction. Ugh. I shuffle out the door, bleary-eyed and feeling tenderized. I come up with a new short-term goal during the morning commute, "This coming weekend I will not gain weight.". I had seemed to have accepted the increased Monday mass as an unavoidable occurrence, but I now don't believe that is the case.

I had a sort of self-pity attitude milling around me, not rendering me unhappy or depressed, just a kind of "Why me?" question constantly pecking at the back of my head. "Why can I not eat what I want?", "Why is that person able to eat all the tasty foods while I'm stuck with a salad?", "Why do I have to bust my butt every day to lose weight, while some people don't workout and never gain a pound?". The answers were simple. I did eat what I wanted for many years, and I ate lots of it. So much so, that I had put myself in a position where my health was in jeopardy because of it. That person over there eating that gooey cinnamon bun for breakfast may have a very active lifestyle that allows them to eat in that way. They also likely know what it's like to feel full, but sadly I don't have that luxury. I could stuff myself breathless, only to be snooping around the pantry and refrigerator an hour later. Comparing my own situation to others is unfair. Making daily, even hourly, adjustments to suit my needs is crucial to finding the magic balance between the physical and emotional ties to food, eating, and exercise. So what if that person over there is eating a bacon cheeseburger, I've gotten myself into this situation, and it's time to get out of it. It is a constant, never-ending battle between want and need, only this time, need is the one that's conquering.

The evening of Day 9 was full of errands, running around, and a general need to get things done. My exhaustion only worsened as the evening grew late, and as we arrived home, I was completely spent. The guilt of not working out that night was quickly eradicated the moment I fell into the bed. Perhaps I had been pushing myself too hard and it was catching up with me. I was overcome by my own eagerness to propel myself to the limits. Hopefully the rest would do me good, as there's a lot more ground to cover, and it's not going to happen overnight. Though, sometimes I wish it would.

Day 8 - Six Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

2007-09-18T10:56:00.001-05:00

I have been told that weighing myself on a daily basis isn't a good idea. To some, it can be akin to standing motionless and staring blankly as you wait for that first bubble in the pot of water you are attempting to boil. I personally find it interesting to see how my body will fluctuate from day to day, and it will be fascinating when this story has reached it's pinnacle, to be able to analyze my progress with precision. So onto the scale I stepped, a week to the day from the beginning of my quest, hoping that the weekend's exploits wouldn't hang a dark cloud over the start of Day 8.

I never did like Mondays all that much. It's not the standard "Somebody's got a case of the Mondays" type of thing. I enjoy my job, and I really don't mind getting up in the morning and heading there any one weekday over another. No, Monday usually meant that when I stepped on the scale, I'd see a higher number than I saw on Saturday. As sure as the sun would rise, that number would be higher, sometimes by a good 6-8 pounds in a matter of two days. That's some serious damage. This morning felt similar, but not quite as bad. Saturday was 6 pounds lighter than last Monday, meaning that the old me could have easily eradicated the week's efforts. I stepped on the scale and stared at the display as the numbers climbed. Saturday's benchmark shot by as quick as a blink, continuing upward, I expected the worst. It mellowed at 256.4, and I calculated the damage. Two pounds up from Saturday, and down four from the previous Monday. My initial expectations were to drop the weight at a slow, constant rate of 2-3 pounds per week, hopefully increasing the chances of it never returning. I gave myself a well-deserved, but cautious, pat on the back.

I had planned to take a few photographs of myself for the sake of comparison, but I kept delaying the inevitable. It was time to suck it up and get it over with. I've never really had the most self-esteem, for obvious reasons, and taking this series of photographs was an eye-opening experience. Most pictures are brutally unforgiving, but these photos told a story of someone that had truly lost control. Thankfully, they also painted a portrait of someone that had turned their life around for the better. (Perhaps when my voyage is complete I will share these "before" photos with the world, but for now, they will remain tucked away for my own motivation. Breathe easy, loyal reader.) My point to you is that, no matter what people tell you, how kind or cruel they may be, I've found it's generally about making the outside match the inside. These photos had shown me that my outer appearance didn't accurately reflect me as a person, and I was thrilled that the time for permanent change was underway.

Crisis is something that had always triggered an eating and drinking binge from me. Food and drink always seemed to comfort and numb any emotional pain that I may have been going through. "Seemed" is the operative word. The food never actually helped the problem, it would just temporarily divert my attention. The issues would normally resolve themselves after some thought, communication, and hard work. And after the dust settled, I had consumed thousands of calories doomed to sit at my ever-expanding waistline, compounding yet another looming disaster. But "The Case of the Expanding Pants" was never thought of as a crisis worth addressing. And if it was, it would ironically trigger a craving for, and subsequent eating of, "comfort food". Comfort food is something that had to be eliminated from my vocabulary. It's again comparable to a drug. Just a little of this and a little of that would make me feel SO much better. No, it didn't. It made me feel good temporarily, but I needed to keep feeding that addiction to keep that "high" going. It's a sad cycle that is very difficult to control because these comfort foods are so easily accessible. Soon that "high" was completely gone, and I was depressed and still eating terribly, trying to attain happiness through consumption. I had to convince myself that I was doing more harm than good with these foods that were intended to make me feel better, but were actually dragging me down emotionally and physically. I've learned to associate food with fueling and energizing my body. Snacking while watching TV seemed so commonplace, and I asked myself, "Was I hungry?". No, I was eating for recreational purposes.

On the evening of Day 8, I turned to the treadmill, not the popcorn bowl, to bring peace to my body and mind. Though my weight had increased, the general trend was still heading in the right direction, and that encouraged me to climb that hill once again, (1.5 miles/30min, 15° incline), and hit the mat (200/30/30). I imagined myself climbing to the tea house at Lake Louise, an accomplishment that seemed so distant but wasn't all that long ago. I was in the prime of my initial weight-loss kick, a trim 225. My wife and I made our annual trip to Lake Louise a memorable one by finally making the legendary trek up the mountain for some tea. A rugged 6km trail, 370m in elevation from bottom to top, all at 1700m above sea level. Not recommended for rookies, we struggled, clawed, and fought our way to victory. It nearly brought tears to my eyes for the sole reason that one year prior, at 295 pounds, I had made it precisely 20 steps up the first section before having to stop, wheezing and light-headed, to accept defeat. One of my proudest moments is now something I strive to replicate. The exception this time, is that the reward will simply be the accomplishment of this feat. The last time, we went for pizza.

Day 6 & 7 - Moderation Is A Dish Best Served Warm

2007-09-17T08:59:00.000-05:00

I awoke on Day 6 knowing what awaited me. I hopped on the scale to see the best weigh-in of the week. Shortly, we were leaving on a trip to a place where delicious consumables know no end. It was my Father-In-Law's 70th birthday, so I knew in advance that there would be many foods available that I would usually thrust towards my gaping maw as if someone was going to take them from me. I knew what to expect, but I was thoroughly terrified. How will I handle myself? What did I do to deserve this torture? Will I revert back to the monster I once was? I comfort myself with the thoughts and teachings of someone who has lived through this before and failed. Me. The last time I had a big weight loss push, I was successful, albeit temporarily, and yearning for all the foods that I was depriving myself of. This yearning gave way to the inevitable "cheat day" that graces many diet plans.

The "cheat day", "free day", or even "treat meal". To someone that has put themselves on a strict diet, those are the sweetest words in existence. To me, however, those words signified the beginning of the end. This time around, I won't be indulging in such sinful activity. During the first attempt, I had completely deprived myself of the foods I craved, thinking I was doing myself a favour. In the long run, this backfired severely. Christmas came and went without me ingesting a single sweet. No rum and eggnog, no gingerbread, no cake, no cookies, not anything. I felt pretty darned good about myself. Then came the gallstone incident. After that, I was easily persuaded to try and incorporate those treats I'd been lacking in the form of "treat meal". One meal a week where I would have whatever I wanted. Started out harmless enough, then one meal became one day. One day became two. Two became three. Snowflake became blizzard. This time around, I'm going at it with a different attitude. I'm not fully depriving myself of that which I crave, but I am limiting the amount that I have. Early on, I already feel better than the first time. No headaches, no mood swings, generally much happier. But this day will be a true test. Mountains of mashed potatoes, copious amounts of cookies and cakes, stacks upon stacks of shortbread. Off we go.

My friend Brad is saddened but supportive of my endeavours. You see, he is the proprietor of our local baked goods boutique, so he won't be seeing too much of me in his shop for the coming months. We stopped in to pick up some sweet treats for the man of the day, and the old me would have picked up a dozen "Mini-Imperials" (two little shortbread cookies with jam in the middle and icing on top); six or so for the 45min drive, and the remainder when we arrived. Not this time. I did have one, and I took my time with it. I used to have a "pack" mentality toward food. Eat lots, and eat fast. Taking the time to savour this solitary, bite-size cookie taught me a valuable lesson. Food tastes just as good when you take your time. Another customary stop on the way to the In-Laws' is for a Slurpee. Usually an unspoken and unconscious decision, but not today. I had a giant bottle of water to sip on. As we arrived I avoided making eye-contact with the cookie jar or candy dishes. I could instantly locate a Scotch mint or macaroon in that house while blindfolded. As I slowly raised my line of sight to meet their saccharine gaze, I realized that I didn't desire a sugary treat. The thought of all the sweat and effort put forth the past week had really put a damper on my desire for a quick sugar fix. That, and I could still taste the cookie from nearly an hour ago.

All facets of the birthday supper were available in seemingly limitless quantities, but I did not stuff myself to bursting. Moderation is a beautiful thing, and I seemed to be understanding that more by the second. I'd had mashed potatoes, breaded chicken, bread stuffing, and boiled veggies, and I felt somewhat satiated. My body was telling me to hit everything up for another round. Time to kick the brain into action. I crossed my cutlery on the plate and gingerly pushed it away from me. "I'm done", I told myself, quite matter-of-fact. It wasn't an easy task, but it is a satisfying moment. Same goes for dessert. I had a small portion, my body told me it wanted more, my mind then took charge and I excused myself from the table. I did it. I allowed some indulgence without allowing it to control me. However, I was unable to perform any of my physical training. I'd have to make up for it tomorrow.

Day 7. I was out of my regular routine and unable to weigh myself, but it wasn't a big deal, I don't miss it. After spending the evening on a very firm mattress, I was ready to head home. Shuffling to the kitchen, I found that my Mother-In-Law had already made breakfast. Her famous "scrambled eggs". Please note the quotation marks around those words. These aren't scrambled eggs in the conventional sense of "eggs that have been scrambled". Oh no. It's a customary Mennonite dish, and it likens itself more to "scrambled pancakes". "It's too early to be dealing with this.", I thought to myself. But I had better get used to it. Again, I would normally eat the entire pan myself. I showed some restraint, but to be honest, it wasn't a proud moment. I went for seconds, and regretted it shortly afterward. This is what happens in real life, folks. There will be lapses, I am human, and though this story is meant to be inspirational, it will also document the setbacks in all of their grotesque splendor. Feeling pretty negative about myself at this point, we headed home.

The weather was absolute perfection for this time of year. Autumn is one of my favourite seasons, though it always seems to leave as quickly as it has begun. Knowing we must take advantage, my wife and I decided to head out for a bike ride. I'm not sure how much ground we covered, but we hit a wide variety of trails ranging from paved to gravel to backwoods over the course of the next 90 minutes. Intense, hard-pedaling, and superb fun with my lovely wife; really feeling great about myself again. We got home fairly spent, that was a fierce ride. As we settled in for a quiet evening, I knew I still had some exercises to catch up on. I was completely exhausted from the ride, but after about 30 minutes, I felt the need to hop on the treadmill. My wife thought I'd completely lost it, but the dough fiesta from the morning still weighed heavily on my mind. Instead of a run, however, I changed it to a steep climb. I went 1.5 miles in 25:00 on a 15° incline. Finished that, and dropped in a heap on the mat. Somehow, I powered through my mat workout (200/30/30), and once again was feeling pretty darned good, but ready for a well-earned sit. After a brief, but relaxing, couch session, it was time to turn in for the night.

Lots of highs and lows peppered my weekend, large strides were made, mentally and physically, and I feel much better equipped to handle the adversity as it comes. Let it be known that I survived the first weekend Slurpee-free, and I'm not ashamed to say that I ate what I wanted. Just not as much of it.

Day 5 - The Weekend Begins and Late Night Phantasmagoria

2007-09-15T11:33:00.000-05:00

Friday. If I had to choose a day over any other, I may choose Friday. Sure you've got to go to work, but usually the people there are at their happiest. Regardless of season, Friday brings a sort of emotional inebriation that is highly contagious and briskly distributed. You may now be asking yourself, "What about Saturday?", and to that, I give you this. Long lines and lack of service at your local home improvement depot, yard work in the stifling summer heat, fixing that leaky faucet that's costing you 4 litres of water per day, finishing the deck before the snow hits, shoulder to shoulder crowds at the big discount store, and screaming kids throwing tantrums as their parent(s) try on clothes that are two sizes too small. Don't get me wrong, my Saturday's can also consist of beautiful long walks, bike rides, and general tomfoolery, but you get the idea. That could be the summary of the average person's Saturday, and I'm sure you have experienced one or more of those mind-numbing incidents on a Saturday afternoon. But we're talking about Friday, here. The scale was once again kind to me this morning, still heading in the right direction, and it has me feeling good. Though I realize that by weighing myself on a daily basis, I'm setting myself up for a bit of a let down in the future. The plateau is coming, but I'm ready for it this time. My weight has been known to fluctuate quite a lot over a short period of time, especially over the weekend.

Ah the weekend. Contrary to my previous statements, I really do enjoy it. Most of those negative situations are easily avoided, anyway, but how could I call my story "entertaining" without some entertainment? Each Friday brings so many possibilities for adventure and enjoyment, but up to now it would likely involve me quaffing ungodly amounts of gin with my friends. Alcohol has been major player my life, and I've had to exorcise many personal demons because of it. In my earlier years I would definitely state that my use was habitual, easily explained away by the fact that I was young, inexperienced, and rather dim. As I've grown older and wiser, the gin was always something that remained a constant player, but it's volatile nature would sometimes remind me to cool it every so often. For this personal challenge, I'm cutting gin out completely. I would be foolish to say that I'll never enjoy another ever again, but this is one of the components of my diet I will be much better off without for the months to come. Regardless of how focused and diligent I would have been with my eating and exercise during the week, by the time Friday rolled around and I've had 1 or 2 gin and juice beverages, it would be late in the evening and I'd be hungry again. Of course I'd be hungry. By this time during the week I'd be fast asleep, but it's Friday, I'm up late, and I want food. And of course, having my inhibitions lowered, I would succumb to my urges. Ruining all of my hard work in one moment of weakness. Not this time.

On the evening of Day 5, my wife, brother and I took in a concert. Afterwards, we all headed back to our house, where my brother had said he wouldn't mind coming in for a bit, and my wife was heading off to bed. My bro and I playing video games late into the evening is something I certainly cherish from our childhood together, and I'm very glad when we're able to get together and keep the legacy alive. He requests a stop at the local convenience store for supplies. This is again where I must show some restraint. Normally, our evenings together would require an over-saturation of sugar. It is an unspoken requirement that Slurpees are consumed at the very least, however, tonight I've got a different plan. So he emerges from the aluminum-framed, brazenly over-lit gates with his standard booty, but a lack of Slurpee is noticeable. I can only assume, as he is a man of very few words, that he didn't want to escalate the temptation for me in these early days of my quest. And I love him for it. As we get back home, I kiss my wife goodnight, and giddily head to the basement. Ah yes, my plan. I had yet to perform my daily training, so I looked to incorporate it into our video game evening. It worked out quite well, wireless controllers are just a fantastic innovation. Though I did have quite a surreal moment while bouncing around on the treadmill. And I'm not picking on my brother in this instance, it was just an uncanny moment. We were both playing games together, just like it always was, but it was as though I was watching MYSELF sitting on the couch ingesting these unearthly amounts of sugar. Almost a revelation within a revelation. Two huge "energy" drinks, a fistful of Bottle Caps candy, and icing-filled licorice, "They're called Livewire", he tells me. It really puts into perspective what it is I'm trying to accomplish. Not just to lose weight, but to change how I approach food, and food-shaped items. Everything that's being sold as "food" is not so much so, and I, as a problematic over-eater, have to recognize what is fuel for my body, and what is just flat out rubbish. I'm going Slurpee-free this weekend. Another step in the right direction.

Nothing monumental on the workout front for Day 5, (2.5miles/36:00, 200/30/30), an extra minute on the run isn't a big deal, I seemed to be sweating a lot more this time as it is. The first third of the weekend can be deemed a success, unfortunately there's two thirds yet to come. And the next segment will take place at my beloved In-Laws, where edibles are always in endless supply. What follows will be hopefully be a testament to portion control and pure will. "Have strength.", I tell myself.

Day 4 - Perogy Soup and An Uphill Struggle

2007-09-14T09:09:00.001-05:00

It is yet another day on my road to recovery. Down 2 pounds, that's interesting. Won't get too excited though, one day of many yet to come, it's about the long term here. A substantial loss like that would have put me in a mindset of, "I can let up just a little today", but that attitude is long dead. The new me wants more, to push myself to the limits. Now that Day 4 is underway, what hazards and temptations could possibly await me?

Perogy Soup. It's exactly as good as you think it may be. Cream of potato soup, celery, onions, carrots, and a few perogies tossed in for good measure. These cafeteria workers are either guided by the hand of God, or the trident of the Devil. Not long ago, I'd have chosen the former, but today...today it is the latter. I snared the initial bouquet as I walked in to fill my water bottle for the morning. "Whew, something smells good." I thought that was an internal comment, in spite of the fact that it was met with an external response. "That's perogy soup. Hope you're hungry!" Was I ever. Not that I've been starving myself, far from it. It's just that food has this ability to make me desire it, even if I've stuffed myself to the limits. This is where I must fight temptation. I arrive back at my desk with the aroma still lodged squarely in my olfactory senses. There it remained for the hours to follow, slowing the clock to a snail's pace as lunchtime approached. 10:30. Come on. 10:31. I'm considering cryogenically freezing myself for 89 minutes at this point. No, have patience. I've determined if I don't have a bowl of that soup, I may actually die on the spot, so let's find a way to make it happen. Normally, I'd have one to accompany my sandwich for lunch, and then another at around 2:30pm for a "late dessert". Yes, it's true, soup for dessert. A compromise is struck. I will not deprive myself of what I crave, but I will control how much I have. Noontime arrives. I have half a bowl with one perogy in it. Please understand that I've reduced my usual intake for this item by 75%. Someday I will hopefully cease these intense cravings for what I know I should not have, but today is not the day. I feel quite good about having a little taste and leaving it at that. I'm actually proud of myself. To avoid having to go through the temptation all over again, I bring my afternoon snack to my desk, thereby eliminating the need to go to the cafeteria again later. Completely eliminating the foods you love may work for some, I've tried it before, and here I stand. Wiser, and satisfied with a small amount. Much better than being miserable and waiting to hit my "interim goal" so I can hammer back two bowls and have the wheels come off yet again. Not this time. Never again.

I got home feeling pretty good about my day. Usually I watch TV while running, but today I thought to try playing some Wii Sports. I do a quick warm up walk, pick up the pace, and start the match. It's making the time pass quite quickly, but I'm getting beat rather soundly. That and I'm really getting exhausted. "Come on, I'm not doing THAT much more work, just waving my arm around while running." I'm having trouble seeing the finer details on the screen that will usually give you the edge for victory, so after losing two matches, I switch to boxing. It's even harder. I actually had to walk for a little bit, I was getting so tired. Sweating up a storm, I couldn't figure out what was going on. "I guess I'm just working harder." I press on through the pain and start my trot once again. On to bowling. This is much easier to control while bouncing around, but I'm having a much harder time than yesterday's run. I look down at the time and notice a strange number out of the corner of my right eye. Five. "The number five isn't normally over there, is it?", I think to myself as I brush beads of sweat off my furrowed brow. "Oh. Oh my." When I do my warm up walk, I put the treadmill on an incline, and then when it's time to pick it up to more of a scuttle, I level it off. Not this time. I had been bustling up a 5° incline for nearly the entire 30 minutes. I figure that I was so excited to try some Wii Sports on the treadmill, I forgot to take care of the basics first. Nice.

I still finished with a better result than the day before, and I forsee my treadmill progress improving through next week, (2.5miles/35:00, 200 crunches, 30 push-ups, 25 dips). I may have found the limits for the "mat" portion of my daily training for the time being. By the time I'd finished my 2nd set of 100 crunches, I was really feeling it. I'll hang around the (200/30/30) mark until I'm not feeling pushed to the absolute brink.

This is already making a vast difference in my life. I'm more alert during the day, sleeping much better in the evenings, not craving those late-night snacks as much. It sure feels good, and soon I'll be presented with the toughest test yet. The weekend. The first weekend will present many more challenges than I've faced for this entire week. I know it's coming, and I can't do anything about it, except be prepared. Let's get through Day 5 and then attack the weekend.

Day 3 - Revelation, Inspiration, and Inner Demons

2007-09-13T10:02:00.000-05:00

Day 3 began similarly to the few that have preceded it. Get up, get clean, step on scale. Still heading in the right direction. Every day seems to provide a new story to tell, and this day is no different.

Around 9am, my wife sends me an e-mail, entitled "Good Morning, or is it?", and my heart sank a little. She always seems to be afflicted with more aches and pains than the average person should be known to bear, and I assumed that she was again in her own personal agony. Poor girl. Well, I open the message, and I discover that she's feeling fine. Well, sort of. She had stepped on the scale shortly after I left for work, and was none too pleased with the number staring back at her. Another milestone was reached in our home, one that couldn't have come at a better time, at least in my opinion. It appears my own personal revelations, coupled with her new personal benchmark, have put her gears in motion. I finish the e-mail with a broad smile on my face. Actions apparently DO speak louder than words, and I'm completely pumped about it. Chest-puffed, shoulders back, standing proud. We're going to do this together, for both of us.

Let's go back a few days. While I was at the store buying my latest pair of pants, I stopped to chat with someone I hadn't seen in some time. All the while, I was holding said pants in my hands. Now I don't need to tell you that these pants were big. Big brown pants. I was fully participating in the conversation, but at the back of my mind was lingering doubts and pangs of self-consciousness. Without getting deep into an internal monologue here, I was analyzing if he noticed how much weight I'd packed on since our last encounter, how truly mammoth these pants were, and constantly checking his line of sight to see if he's taking a mental note of any of my physical features that may be offensive. Man-boobs come to mind. Moobs. I've got them, and it's not pleasant. They are perkier than most, not quite as womanly as some, but they are there, and I know it. He knows it. I also know that he could truly care less about my physical appearance at this moment, we're busy catching up on years gone by. But I still think about it. We part ways, exchange e-mails, all is well for the moment. Oh no. Someone else is approaching me with an outstretched hand and warm smile. What do I do? I could run, but that would only draw attention. Conversation initiated, no backing out now. Lather, rinse, repeat. "Hey, hey! I'm up here, buddy. Eyes forward."

Now that may seem a little extreme, but that's how my mind can work, and I doubt I'm the only one. I see it all the time. Larger people wearing larger clothes that still cling to every bump, curve and nook. Blousing out the bottom of your shirt every 5 minutes to get that fabric off of your skin, providing a split-second of relief from the self-consciousness stemming from being this monstrous. I know the feelings, they are some with which I am far too familiar.

The remainder of Day 3 was very pleasant indeed. Training went well, improving yet again over the previous days numbers (2miles/30:00, 150 crunches, 30 push-ups, 20 dips). I also stayed honest with myself and kept the eating under control. It truly is a daily struggle. Temptation is a foul beast with which I will forever battle. Each day, each moment, can be a skirmish unto itself, but it is the WAR with which I strive to emerge the victor. Day 3 is complete; well-fought and victorious I stand. But the challenges of Day 4 are mere hours away...

Day 2 - Pants And My Struggles With Them

2007-09-12T08:31:00.000-05:00

The alarm didn't stand a chance. My wife had stirred at around 5:30am, and in my semi-conscious state, I determined that the wake-up call I had set for myself was no longer a priority. I bumped it ahead 30mins and went back to sleep. So much for being pumped to get this underway. As I awoke, the guilt set in. "What am I doing? Why must I cheat myself?" And then I realized that maybe, just maybe, this isn't that big of a deal. One morning out of hundreds more to come will not likely be the catalyst of my undoing for this, the final round of the ebb and flow that is my weight.

The lasagna is now a distant memory, heartburn subsided, ready to take on Day 2. The scale was kind to me this morning, especially considering the damage that could have been done. Down a few pounds from yesterday morning, and feeling OK. On go my pants, one leg at a time, just like anyone else, but there's a problem here. They're tight, and quite filth-ridden. My wife notifies me that my new pants are in the dryer. As I fill the tattered basket with all of our freshly laundered...laundry, I think about all of the unworn clothes that have hung in the closet for what feels like an eternity.

The vast majority of my current wardrobe was purchased back when the scale read 225. Back then I thought, "There's no way I'll ever let myself get bigger, so lets start replacing all of my 'big guy' clothes". This was against the sage-like advice of my wife, who had mentioned that I should hang on to the old stuff "just in case". At the time I thought she was being a little mean, but it turns out she knows me much better than I do. I usually had three to four pairs of pants on hand (a mix of denim, khaki, and dressy), and as I began to expand, the converse was happening to the choices of clothing available to me. One day, none of my jeans fit. "That's OK, the dress pants were a little bigger. Those will work until I drop the weight back down." Not long after, the dress pants weren't an option. "Oh well, the cargo pants used to need a belt to stay on, but now they fit just fine on their own." What the...? Shouldn't THAT be enough of a sign to smarten up? Of course not. I'll just head out and get a new pair of pants to hold me over until I fit back into the old ones. Just one. Within weeks, I would be known as "the guy in the grey pants", because they were the only pants that fit me, therefore, the only ones I would wear. Just this past weekend, I finally broke down and got another pair of pants to compliment the "grey big boy pants" I purchased so long ago as a temporary fix. Want to know something? Those big boy pants were getting a little tight, so I went up one more size for these new ones. This was one alarm I could no longer continue to set 30min ahead.

Day 2 was better than Day 1 in that, my intake was much more balanced. No gorging, great portion control, all that stuff. I even resisted an offer of a Slurpee during the day, one of my favourite treats that I'll gladly save for the weekend. On my way home from work, I stopped in at the store to get the final ingredients for my "egg-bake", my own classic concoction that is delicious, healthy, and light. Without getting into too much detail: eggs, dry whole wheat pasta, mushrooms, bell peppers, jalapeños, red onion, cottage cheese, Frank's Xtra Hot Sauce, Montréal Steak Spice, oregano, basil. The majority of the dish is the veggies, the pasta is added just for a little extra bulk. My wife had the ingenious idea to substitute the pasta with some hash browns, so I put a few of those in this time as well. When I finally got home I was a little hungry so I had a classic snack while I began the food prep for the egg-bake. Cheese on a bun. Likely something else I should cut out, but hey, we're on Day 2 here. Everything in moderation, I only had one. We had planned to take in a movie, but because this dish requires a lot of food preparation and bake time, we postponed the movie for Day 3. That's how important food is in our house.

I hit the treadmill at around 10pm. I felt much better than Day 1, having to take it down to a brisk walk every few minutes was a must, but I hammered through it. I wonder how long it will take to finally feel comfortable running again? Baby steps. Don't want to burn out. By the end, I had doubled my production from Day 1; 2miles/30min. (I wish the display had a Metric option, what the heck is a mile?) I then dropped to the mat to finish the day properly, by doing the little workout I'd missed this morning. I'm not looking to set any records here, just getting started. 100 crunches, 20 push-ups, and 20 tricep dips. I'm done, and now I don't feel so bad for sleeping in. Hit the couch for some light TV, and then off to bed. I make sure to turn off my 6:30 alarm in advance, there's got to be some re-tooling in that department. Another day done, and I now feel that this is officially underway. My brain has switched over to "determined", and I'll be damned if anyone's going stop me. Namely myself. Or those grey pants.

Day 1 - Mom's Lasagna is NOT an option

2007-09-11T08:45:00.000-05:00

Sunday night (day before Day 1), my wife and I went to my parents' house for supper. My mother had prepared one of my most favourite childhood meals, meat lasagna. A few of her friends also joined us for the meal, and had made one of my most favourite desserts, lemon pie. Homemade pie crust and all. Now, I should have known going in to this feast that my belt would expand a notch. And it didn't bother me, I didn't think about it for a moment. Before Day 1, I had lost all concept of eating to fuel my body, and had fully resorted to eating because I had to fill myself. So I ate until I was content, but it never lasts. My mother knows me far too well, because as we were leaving for the evening, she presents me with a parting gift. She had baked me my own lasagna to take with me. It was a beautiful sight to behold, a dream almost. My very own "Mom's lasagna" to eat at my leisure! My family always acts with the best intentions in mind, and this may have been the greatest indirect wake-up call I could have hoped for.

The morning of Day 1, I stepped on the scale. I covered the majority of that incident in the Introduction, but I should touch on WHY I stepped on the scale. Throughout my re-weight gain period, I've stepped on the scale at least once a day. I believe it was intended to inspire me to stop the madness, but all it seemed to do was discourage and frustrate me. The old cliché of "I eat because I'm sad, and I'm sad because I eat" surely applied to me and my situation. When I saw 240, I thought "No biggie.", and didn't skip a beat. 250 was very heartbreaking, I think I went right to 7-11 for some Slurpee goodness. But, for some reason, seeing 260 again was truly maddening. I don't know why it took so long to realize that I was approaching maximum density, or why it took so long for me to officially put a stop to it. I guess what matters is that I DID realize it. Ironically enough, there was a program on TLC last night about morbidly obese people, and one person's story in particular hit me the hardest. His name escapes me at the moment, but he weighed 800, and got down to 190 in 10 years. Monumental, right? Inspirational? Absolutely! However, over the next 7 years he gained back enough weight to put him near 1000. That's when it REALLY hit me. There's no letting up on this. I'm in a very similar situation (though on a smaller scale), and all of his comments truly made me think. That could very well have been me. Our thought process towards the function of food was eerily similar, and reinforced why this needs to happen immediately.

Anyway, let's get to Day 1, shall we? Not a big deal, really. I usually don't have a problem eating properly through the day. I bring fresh fruits and veggies, and the cafeteria has (somewhat) healthy options, though I think I may start cooking at home more often. I DID, however, realize where my main issues are situated. Firstly, I tend to snack late into the evening. Secondly, I am extremely inactive. At my old job of 9 years, it was a sit-down type of thing, with quite a bit of walking to other departments and standing and such. Not at all physically demanding, but I'd log a lot of steps in a day. At my current job, I'm seated for nearly the entire day. I thought it would be great to finally be able to sit for the majority of my day, but it's not all it's cracked up to be, even for someone as lazy as me.

So food intake for the day was fine until supper time. I got home around 4:30 and decided to eat supper early. That lasagna was in the fridge, so why not? Again, I must preface this next segment with some back story. I'm not much of a beef eater. Not vegetarian (though I'm pretty close), just kind of lost interest in beef during my first big weight loss push. A few weeks back, I had my friend Pat come over to help with plumbing issues. As payment, he only required burgers and beer (what a pal), and I joined in for a burger. Chicken and turkey burgers are very rarely accepted as a form of currency, so I served classic beef burgers. Shortly after the feast was over, I felt winded, tight in the chest. Perhaps just being out of shape was a factor, but this felt different. "Could be the beef", I thought to myself. After the lasagna meal at my parents' I felt similarly lousy, but not so bad. After the second lasagna day in a row, however, it wasn't so good. Heartburn, trouble breathing, general exhaustion. I didn't overeat or anything, just enough. I'm going to send the lasagna to my brother, he'll put it to good use. Myself, I'm back to chicken and turkey. We'll see how things improve after removing the beef from my intake list again. But, for this meal, I had two helpings of Mom's lasagna. Isn't this supposed to be Day 1 of the NEW me?

I've determined that I should do two light workouts a day, morning and night, to help balance my gross physical inactivity throughout the day. So my first workout was to be on the evening of Day 1. I made it 15 minutes and 1 mile into my walk/run before nearly vomiting. It doesn't take very long to fall horribly out of shape. Not that I was really IN shape recently. For the half-marathon (I had originally signed up for the full marathon, but cut it down just before the day), I was barely fit enough to participate. I had severely slacked on my training through the spring, and it showed. I've tended to perform most tasks in this manner, cramming as much as possible before the big test, staying up all night writing charts for a gig or recording session the following day, but this is not something you can "cram" for. I finished the run in 2:40 (about a 12min 15sec mile), which actually is quite a good time for someone of my size and (lack of) ability. I was unable to walk for 36-48 hours afterward, and got a horrible chest infection that lasted 10 days. I learned my lesson. Don't "cram" for physical challenges, it will not end well.

In the most recent case, however, I'll have to blame lasagna, not completely, but at least 51% at fault. 5 hours after my final lasagna banquet, there was still rampant heartburn and general unpleasantness arising from my insides. Completely skipping the additional calisthenics I had planned to accompany the "run", I flopped on the couch, defeated, if only for the moment. Up to bed I trudged, setting my alarm for 6:30am. Tomorrow is the day that this will truly begin, though my body tells me that it's already fully underway.

An Introduction

2007-09-10T10:04:00.000-05:00

260. Just a number, yes. But when I stared down at the scale this morning, that's the number that stared back at me. I hadn't seen that number in about 18 months, and the last time I did, I had felt a sense of accomplishment, of pride. Today this number signifies terror, sadness, and disappointment.

Let's preface this with a story...
Not too long ago, the number displayed on that little LCD window was 312. One morning, not unlike this morning, I decided I'd had enough. Enough shopping around from store to store trying to find pants to fit me. Enough wearing baggy jerseys and muumuu-esque shirts to attempt to cover and hide my girth. "No more.", I said. Something in my brain just fired up, telling me it was time to change. So I did. I immediately changed the way I approached food and became a more active person. The first few weeks were absolutely horrendous, the cravings and headaches, my body yearned for junk food and sugar. My loving wife stood by helpless as I deteriorated into a sobbing infant that wanted nothing more than a taste of Dr.Pepper Slurpee. But I stuck to my guns, and with great discipline and will power, overcame my addiction, or so I thought. Life was good. Better than it had ever been. The years of self-inflicted abuse and sloth-like inactivity were becoming a distant memory, melting off of me like a delicious ice-cream cone in the hot summer sun. I was walking, then jogging, then even running. I had laced up the skates and started playing hockey again. In matter of 8 months I had dropped a staggering 87 pounds and felt as though I could climb the Matterhorn. Then came the pain.

Indescribable, blinding pain. Right side, under my ribs. Never before had I felt a pain so intense, so acute, so fierce. Let's back up a few minutes. After having lost all that weight, I felt I was ready to sample a food I had deprived my body of for so long. I deserved it. A reward. Cheese. I had been restricting myself to veggies, fruits, and lean proteins for so long, a simple 100g piece of New Bothwell Cheddar Cheese was the equivalent of a steak dinner at that moment. Before the taste of that Manitoba medium-aged had even begun to wane from my palette, the pain struck. Welling up inside me like a firey torrent from the depths of Hell, it knocked me to my knees, and then to the floor. For what felt like an eternity, it lasted for 60 mins. Each second was excruciating. Without drawing out this dramatic tale, I'll cut right to the chase. It was my gall bladder.

Because I had been depriving myself of all fats (not a good idea), my gall bladder was as inactive and sloth-like as I was not too long before. This led to the bile that was being stored to crystallize and form gall stones. This was fine and dandy until the cheese I treated myself to kicked the gall bladder into action, out of it's previously comatose state. Imagine, if you will, passing thousands of miniscule glass shards through a highly sensitive duct no larger than the eye of a needle. The pain of kidney stones actually pale in comparison because the ducts they pass through are larger, and those are still akin to pissing out porcupine quills. I don't remember how many attacks I had over the course of the next two weeks, but to summarize, I took a natural route to recovery instead of having the gall bladder removed. My wife had hers removed and she didn't recommend it too highly. So rather than spend days in a hospital bed, I drank olive oil and lemon juice and spent days on the toilet.

Skipping ahead to being fully recovered, I began treating myself to the foods that I had deprived myself of more often. Now that the pains had subsided, I felt the need to taste these foods again. And again and again. Heck, I was 225 and almost at my goal weight, as if I didn't deserve it! When I had to buy a new pair of pants because I'd gained 10 pounds, it was no big deal. I'll just cut back on the treats. My shirts aren't fitting anymore, must be shrinking in the wash. Nope. You're getting fat again, champ. I signed up (in January) to run a half marathon in June to kick start my butt back into shape. I still managed to run the race and finish while weighing around 240. That was three months ago.

Back when I had my initial push to start losing the weight, I realized how difficult this truly is. Going into the lunchroom at work became the most horrible experience, and was one that was repeated at least 3 times a day, everyday. As I go to retrieve my fruit and veggies from the fridge, someone's heating up their snack or lunch. Pizza, fries, fried chicken, pasta. No big deal, right? Imagine being addicted to something much more maligned and socially unacceptable; cigarettes, alcohol, heroin, cocaine. Now imagine again, that you had to pass through a room a minimum of three times a day, filled with people enjoying that which you cannot have. Even going so far as OFFERING you a smoke, drink, or hit. That's what it's like being a food addict. However, most other addictions have the distinct advantage of not being essential to existence, and can be avoided if need be. You can go through a lifetime having never smoked, drank, snorted, or shot up. But you have to eat. Back to the top of the page we go.

260. Just a number, yes. But when I stared down at the scale this morning, that's the number that stared back at me. Today this number signifies strength, determination, and will power. It's also the last time I'll ever see that number again.