I heard said once that, “A man at rest is impossible to start.” Hell, I probably had that on one of my t-shirts a millennia ago. I don’t know, but I do know this; “at rest” is not a good way to be when I need to drop some weight. The thing is, I recognize a pattern that has developed over the course of the holiday season, a pattern of consumption.
It is still amazing to me, in light of all the introspection and self-analysis that the past few years have been absolutely filled with, that I couldn’t see this one come and somehow squelched it before it became a deafening crescendo of self-loathing and regret. Sure, a cookie here and some candy there may not seem like much incidentally– but gob-stuffing every time I pass a morsel creates a pattern that’s sure to end with me curled into the fetal position under my desk, eating my feelings washing it all down with a nog of tears.
So… the New Year has fully begun, vacations are over and our oven has gone cold. No more platters of cookies, bars, brownies, or other morsels of belt-busting, insulin-whoring goodness. No more readily available obesity-inducing clumps of heavenly health sabotage to indulge in or any more pie for my piehole. Time to create some new patterns.
Rock on.
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While I’m not in any way into diet pills, I am fairly consistent in increasing the value of my urine through the ingestion of a multitude of vitamins. Recently, I started taking a “mature” vitamin tablet designed to address the peculiarities associated with my having crawled the earth for so long. I’ve added this to my morning regimen of fish oil and aspirin.
Do they make a difference? With cold and flue season upon us, I hope so. The second-to-last thing I need is to get sick. Illness totally mucks up my day. Want to know what the “last thing” is? Just ask.
Regardless, my urine has never been so gloriously amber.
Rock on (for the holidays, especially).
Via: Canada Drug Center
Just finished week #7. Only two weeks to go.
We all judge. People judge me; some look down, others up. I judge, I’d like to think from a position of concern- an empathy for those with similar struggles. The thing is, my judgement of other’s perceptions of themselves is way off-base much of the time. I’ll see someone who I imagine is struggling with their weight and I’ll find myself feeling badly that they’re suffering.
Many times they aren’t suffering at all. Maybe I should judge.
Rock on.
I’m really started to enjoy the whole w25k thing– though my fondness may be a tad premature, having just completed week 2 day 2 of a 9-week program. Still, I’m upbeat and optimistic despite my legendary dour demeanor and am looking forward to Friday’s plod around the track.
Some kind folks have brought to my attention that they think I’m going back on the theme of my weight loss adventure by using a “program”. They tease by saying stuff like, “You’re kind of a hypocrite, what about your website and the whole “lose weight without plans, pills, classes, or surgery? Isn’t this c25k thing a plan? And besides, you’re ugly.” To which I reply, “I know you are but what am I? and “How about you plan to shut up?” through my sobbing and tears. The thing is, I think I’m probably more hippo and crit in this instance considering that the Couch to 5k program has nothing to do with weight loss, it’s purpose is to get my ass from the couch to the track and prepare me to run 5k. Losing weight, if I indeed lose any, will be more of a side-effect. Besides, I’m doing this more to have something additional I can do with my wife (she’s a runner).
Regardless, I don’t see it as a bad thing. It’s been enjoyable thus far and I feel as though my running endurance is improving.
Rock on.
Yesterday was a day that was virtually exercise-free. After such an awesome session of track/stadium circuitry on Saturday, it was odd to slip into a virtual vacuum yesterday. I made up for it this morning with a continuation of the c25k. Yeah, week two– hitting’ it, baby!
I ran like the wind, I did. More like I made my own wind as my huffing and puffing mass displaced the molecules surrounding me as I jogged/walked/ran-the-stairs at the football stadium this morning. I figure that what I lack in style, grace, handsomeness, olfactory pleasantries, speed, and agility– I more than make up for in dogged determination and grunting. Yes, mine is a delicate balance of extremes.
Nevertheless, my morning was a trundling battle with gravity, momentum, and inertia that by measure of the Rorschach-stain of perspiration I was sporting by smoothie time, did me some good. And I need all the good I can get.
Rock on.
To my surprise I discovered that I have completed week #1 of the c25k program. I’m sure that anyone who knows anything about Couch to 5K knows that it is only a three day per weekkind of thing (at least I think it is– all I know is that when I started the app on my iPhone this morning it went right to “Week 2 Day 1″). I guess I should have researched it a little, or looked ahead on the app. Life for me is a wondrous adventure of a shock and surprise, living-in-the-moment-mystery lately– I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, where the hell I am, or what’s happening next. I’m without conscience nor clue; living in a whimsical oblivion cognizance-free and letting the world and all it’s cares and imagery wash over me like a perfumed fog.
OK, not so much. Thing is, I’m in constant consistent anguish over the infinite possible outcomes to my every thought, word, action or care minutely related to my existence. I’m a cautious, conscientious traveler light-stepping through a self-created minefield of horrendous possibility where potential is more ominous than my ultimate passing through the veil of this mortal coil and the resultant possibility of an after-life is forgettably inconsequential and insignificant as compared to the subset of possible permutations and infinite ramifications of the perceived tonal intent of my voice when I say, “Hello.”
Rituals protect me. The order of things. Left sock first is always the way. Check email before putting on my shoes. Go to the gym before cardio at the track. The specific order of things adds structure and prevents omission.
Except when it doesn’t.
Rock on.
The more I think, turns out the less I know. Chew on that one, Steve. It doesn’t matter what the topic is, the more I think, discuss, and think some more, the more often I run smack-splat into the realization that whatever notion I had going in was inadequate crap. I guess the right way to look at it is to be grateful I’m still capable of learning something– despite my advanced years and skull density.
Today’s befuddlement turned epiphany: women’s fashion. Not a fun ride.
Rock on.
131 lbs. lost
and I still have a ways to go!
No Diet Plans
No Pills
No Exercise Classes
No Surgery
Just Sensible Eating
and Exercise
MyFitnessPal - Nutrition Facts For Foods
