Steve v5.0

Author Archive

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.

 

OK, so what do you call it when the title of my post makes a statement that, when looking at the two parts of a two-part title separately, kinda make sense in a way– but when coupled kinda don’t in a things-that-make-you-go, “Huh?” kinda way? Say, “Wednesday,” and you’re probably as right as rain.

So here’s the nugget, quitting at any point prior to the moment of success guarantees failure. Quitting at any point even after experiencing a modicum of success precludes a reversal of that success (think “yo-yo dieting”). Conversely, my hallucination comprises the tenet that perseverance and tenacity until my last breath is the surest formula for my ultimate success.

I blush at the though of all the times during my life that, upon experiencing a some level of success, I just quit doing whatever it was that was working. Hell, there were times when I cognitively quit doing what was working because it was working- perhaps for no other reason than my perceived lessening of the associated challenge. The thing is/was, whatever chemical triggers that were firing off in my brain that were feeding whatever need I had at the time, were satisfied by merely overcoming some hurdle- beyond the hurdle was boredom. Quiting created another hurdle. All in all a tedious circle of mediocrity.

How does one rise above? Methinks the answer lies within the hallucination rather than historical reality.

Rock on.

 

Long time, no read… er… write. Right?  I mean, what the crap, Steve? Where’ve I been?

So here’s the thing. There are plenty of excuses as to why I haven’t written for a time. I had a fat tire. My dog did my homework. My cat was clairvoyant. My grandma was in the shop. OK, no not really. Mostly truthier still is that I’m a jerk. I have a life (of sorts– not one entirely of my choosing, mind you, but it seems to take all my time).

I’m (maybe mostly) sure that I’ve affirmed at some time or another during the course of committing words to page (for nigh on four freakin’ years now) that it isn’t so much what I’ve been doing, what matters most is what I am doing now and what I will be doing from now on– so here goes. This morning, only moments ago, I started a “Couch to 5K” program over at the track right after doing my normal routine at the gym. Why? More on that later. For now, let’s just say I was App Shopping and that it’s just an app I blundered across and installed on my iPhone. It looks easy enough at the onset and I’m dedicating November to it. As I go, I’m going to relay my impressions of the thing as an app and an activity to make myself feel relevant to my self and the betterment of my “Self”.  Make sense? Say “yes” and I’ll ask that you explain it to me. Answer anything to contrary and you’ll have both my respect and a smugness I revile for as long as I remember its’ context.

It is my intention to make November a month of massive action. I’m taking on a pant-load of projects and activities in an attempt to ignite the shitpile of procrastination, clutter, and unrealized potential that has accumulated since wandering of the Path a little while back. Let’s see what happens.

Rock on.

 

What is it about a calendar who’s pages move like one of those old-timey flip book cartoons that makes a rotund dude dread bedtime?

Is it merely the passing of another day, or the anxiety of goals pushed to the morrow? (a.k.a. procrastination due to squandered time)

It’s so many things, and nothing– or a whole lot of nothing that, when combined, amount to a great big something that gnaws at my brain and staves off the much needed “z’s” that I’m sure would benefit my health and hasten my weight loss efforts.

Here’s the thing, the passing of time is inevitable. The seconds turn into minutes that combine into hours that wind down the days that stretch into years that amount to a lifetime– that seems to pass in a second. The culmination of actions and words defines the life that whose mass spanned creation to reabsorption into the collective ecology– dust-to-dust so to speak.  Right now, as of this particular moment and all that remain, are of primary concern to little ol’ me, and bring forth a very important question that will inevitably be answered with subsequent action, verse, or inaction…

What will I do next?