Hey Blog Man...

"Hey blog-man - Where are the posts? I believe those of us subscribed are due posts until April..."

Those were the words of an email I just received from a friend of mine. Sure enough, they are thoughts that have been expressed by a number of friends. I really have fallen way behind on this blog, and for that I owe a thousand apologies. I think I owe myself a few as well.

The truth is, I have not been working out or making any of the right choices that I wanted to be New Year's Day. I'm not proud of it...and it turns out it's a lot harder to write blog about things of which you're ashamed.

Last week I went for one jog with my dog, and that represented pretty much the full extent of my fitness regiment. Likewise, my diet has been, at best, passing. I have yet to get back on track counting my calories on LiveStrong.

Honestly, I don't know what my problem is. Actually, that's not true is it? My problem is that I've let myself get comfortable again. I enjoy sleeping until 6 a.m. and then sitting on the couch eating cereal (all-be-it healthy cereal) and watching TV. I like hanging out with my wife and baby at night. I like eating when I'm hungry and not worrying about whether or not I've burned enough calories to make it disappear. I like dark beer and carbs. Carbs are my friends!

Somewhere in my mind there is a disconnect. I want to get fit. I recognize that what I'm doing right now (nothing) is not going to allow me to get fit. Therefore...see, there's the problem. A+B=???

It's like I'm starting all over again. I'm still about 10 pounds lighter than I was, but apparently all those pounds were shed between my ears. I try and think back at my first attempt in May (a successful one) and remember how I did it. How did I wake up at 4:30 or 5? What has changed in me that it now seems completely alien.

I guess the answer is that I have to fake it until I make it. I just have tug my lazy butt, kicking screaming if need be, out of bed and into the fire. I either need to make time before the sun or find time during the day or at night. I simply can't let myself go to bed without having sweat a little bit.

I've compared the journey to fitness to the journey to sobriety experienced by addicts (this is mostly guessing as the only thing I've ever been addicted to is the television show Lost). I guess the logic of getting started is probably the same. I recognize I have a problem, and rather than become defeated by the seeming immensity of the task in front of me, I need to get started making baby steps. I will be healthy starting today, starting right now. I'll think about tomorrow tomorrow. I'll commit to letting the future take care of itself.

I think part of the problem is that unlike my first go round when I was looking forward to the Lake Travis Relay, I don't really have a goal right now. Perhaps that should be part of this process as well. I'll let you know if I come up with anything.

How Not to Prepare for a 5K

Going into the Lake Travis Relay in October, my only goal was for our team to finish within the 7 hour maximum. We all trained hard, and we reached that goal. Going into this past weekend's Schlotzsky's Jingle Bun Fun Run 5K, my goal was simply finish the run without ever having to walk. I did not train much at all, and while I accomplished the goal, it was a pyrrhic victory.

The idea of doing this run was actually my sister Sarah's. She's been trying to get healthy lately, and she challenged me a few months ago to join her in a 5K. At the time, I was training for the big swim, but December felt far away, so I agreed.

As I've mentioned in previous blogs, my own fitness regiment has deteriorated to near nothingness. It has been weeks since the last time I got a real sweat going during a workout and months since I got two good workouts in the same week. If that doesn't explain why I haven't lost much weight since the swim...your future as a private detective does not look bright.

Still, a deal's a deal, so even though I felt completely unprepared, I stuck to the plan. Saturday morning, Sarah and I made our way to the Pepper Creek Trail where we registered and got our goodie bags. Then, promptly at 9, we got in line at the start and waited for the starting bell.

Looking around at the crowd of runners, Sarah and I felt pretty good. There were people who looked as out of shape as we felt, senior citizens, parents with small children (even parents pushing small children in strollers). We suddenly felt like we might not be the last people to cross the finish line (assuming our survival).

All of our perceptions were thrown to the wolves, though, as the race got started. Now I know how cows feel as they filter through with shoot. All these bodies shooting past us at warp speed. Within minutes, we found ourselves jogging in a much smaller group, the non-hardcores, if you will. That's pretty much where we stayed for the rest of the run, lots of folks in front of us...behind us, not as much.

That was fine by me, though. As I kept telling Sarah, this was each of our first ever 5K, and we weren't in it to win. We just wanted to finish on our own terms, no walking.

To be completely honest, it wasn't that bad. The hardest part of the entire run was a muddy patch that temporarily left my sneakers weighing an extra 2 pounds each. As we approached the finish line, though, I realized I still had plenty of juice. With Sarah's permission, I broke off and ran the last 20 or 30 yards. I was truly surprised to not be in more pain.

Saturday night, however, the pain came, and it came angry. I swear I had sore muscles inside my knee. I had grand plans for the rest of my day. There were dreams of cleaning the house, doing laundry, perhaps doing a little Christmas shopping. Didn't happen. Instead, the rest of my day consisted of laying on the couch watching television, taking short breaks occasionally to go to the bathroom or complain about my agony.

This morning, I got to look at the results of the race. It makes it harder to feel good about having finished in 181st place out of 208 runners. That puts me in the bottom 13% of the field. My total time was 42:15, putting my pace at a blistering 13:38 per mile.

Overall, I walk away from this experience with mixed feelings. I finished the race without walking, sure, but I can't help but think about how much better I could have performed had I really trained for it. Much to my chagrin, the Jingle Bell Fun Run may have wet my whistle for future runs. I truly believe that with a few months of preparation, I could easily shave 7 to 10 minutes off of my time.

God help me, did I just become a runner?

The Domino Effect

Unfortunately, I must once again begin with an apology. When I started this blog, I began with a promise. Not only did I commit to spend the year trying to get fit, I made a commitment to keep a journal of my experiences, good or bad. At the time, I was pretty sure it would all be good.

My failure is two-fold. First it has been several weeks since the last time I got a really good workout. Then, embarrassed by my failure to workout, I have not kept you in the loop. I said I'd be honest, good or bad, and from now on I will be.

If there is one thing I've learned since beginning this journey, it's that there is always a reason to not workout. How often do you feel 100% healthy? How about at 5 AM? How often do you feel like you have gotten enough sleep? At 5 AM? My point is that it is very easy to make that first excuse, to skip that first workout, and once you start...excuses become easier and easier. "I don't even feel as good today as I did yesterday, and I didn't wake up early and workout then..."

Like a thousand little dominoes that you've worked so hard to line up, all the new aspects of your healthy lifestyle start to collapse, taking more and more with them. Suddenly, not only are sleeping in and not working out, you're ordering the value meal. Instead of counting every calorie, you're giving a cursory glance at the nutritional stats and chowing down.

The worst part of all of this is that even as you make these bad choices, you are constantly aware of what the right choices would be. The overwhelming emotion attached to these mistakes is shame, and yet you feel somehow stuck, trapped, and powerless to change.

Well, I'm done being stuck. I'm sick with guilt over my recent behavior, doubly so because I had experienced so much success. No sooner had I reached my goal of completing the Lake Travis Relay than I was skipping out on the fitness regimen that got me there. At the time, I had lost more than 20 pounds.

The tragic thing is that my success probably contributed to my failure. You keep losing weight over enough time, and it becomes easy to forget that weight doesn't come off without help. It takes work, and discomfort, and inconvenience. When you stop putting those things in, the weight stops coming off...or start to come back.

All this leads to the unavoidable (and believe me I've tried to avoid it) of where am I now. How much of my progress have I undone? Monday evening I stopped by the Summit on my way home from work and stepped on the scale for the first time in more than a month. I knew I wasn't going to like the result. I didn't know how much I would hate it.

Keep in mind; I wasn't wearing my usual workout gear and sneakers. I was wearing work clothes and work shoes. Did I mention that my job is that of a deep-sea diver from the 50's? No? Well I am. Someone's got to do it, and that someone is me. The outfit you see here weighs about 100 pounds, so when I tell you that I weighed 215, you'll understand that this means I'm actually much skinnier than Keira Knightley...

Not really. The reality is I was wearing khakis, polo and regular, old brown shoes. I doubt the whole ensemble weighed even 5 pounds.
All this to say that after nearly seven months, I'm probably less than 10 pounds lighter than when I started.

That's pretty demoralizing, but I'm not going to let my frustration keep me from getting back on track. I'm starting the same way I did last time, by setting goals. This year, I will be participating in the Jingle Bun Fun Run 5K. My dog Sulley and I will be training for that over the next few weeks. I started this morning by going on a 1.8 (a little more than half a 5K) jog with my sister Sarah, who is also training for the 5K.We brought along an 8 pound medicine ball and threw it back and forth to one another as we jogged. By the end we were pretty exhausted, but we never let ourselves take a break or slow to a walk.

My larger goal is to get back below 200 pounds by January 6. As part of that process, I promise to get back on track keeping you in the loop.

I'm a YouTube Moron

My last post chronicled my first experiences my new Trikke. The thing is fun as heck. I feel like I'm getting a good workout and having fun. Within that post, I included this video of my first Trikke ride.

At the time I was just proud of myself for including that snazzy YouTube technology. Today I learned the real benefit of YouTube, though. My video had been commented on 3 times...all by very kind Trikke enthusiasts who wanted to inform me that I had put my front tire on backwards..

So...I feel a little stupid. Actually, I feel stupid for having made the mistake. I feel really, really stupid for sharing my mistake with the globe (minus the residents of Germany who can't view the video for reasons pertaining to copyrights on the background music).

Hopefully, actually pointing my wheels in the right direction will help me to Trikke more efficiently and get a better workout. I'll keep you posted.

Not Your Dad's Tricycle

I had a great weekend. Not only did the daylight savings time gods grant me a magical extra hour of sleep, but I got to try out a new toy. It's called a Trikke, and it is good for a wacky good-time workout.
I was first exposed to the idea of Trikking while at a conference for recreation professionals in Salt Lake City. There was an expo with hundreds of booths full of vendors trying to show off their wares. Most of the exhibits were for things like playgrounds and shade sails, but a few featured cool new fitness toys. The booth that caught my attention was that of Trikke. A Trikke is a three-wheeled, man-powered vehicle that is propelled not by peddling but by carving. It looks a little like two razor scooters welded together. Here's a video of a Trikke in the hands of a pro:

Stepping atop one of their demonstration Trikkes, I was hooked. It may not look cool, but the thing just feels fun. I didn't buy a Trikke in Utah, but I thought about them the whole way hope. My wife told me that I kept bringing them up nonstop for the following week. After some thought, I went on EBay in search of a deal. If I can find a Trikke for less than 70% of the retail cost, I told myself, I'll bid on it. Sure enough, I won an auction and ended up getting a model for about 58% of its normal cost.

After a week of anticipation, my Trikke arrived last Friday. I eagerly put it together in our living room (my wife was thrilled) but didn't get a chance to ride it until Saturday morning. Tara's mom and sister were in town, so we packed the whole crew into the car and headed to beautiful Lions Park.

Holy cow was this a beautiful day. I got the Trikke set up (had to run and buy a tire pump) and gave it my first try. I had watched dozens of YouTube videos, so I felt pretty confident that I would do well. Confidence in some is warranted. Confidence in me is delusion. I swung my arms. I shifted my weight from foot to foot. Instead of forward movement I felt only shame.



I had to cheat and kick start myself the first time, but after a couple laps around the parking lot, I was doing better. I started to find the sweet spot in the movement which is a combination of twisting the handlebars, leaning the steering column and shifting your weight from foot to foot. I wouldn't say that I was going fast, but I was definitely improving.

After everyone had a few tries (my wife had some skills of her own) it was time to head home.

"Can I go on ahead and meet you guys down the way," I asked.

My sweet wife gave me the go ahead, and I was off. I managed to get past the softball field parking lot before I hit a pretty large hill. I was tire, sore and happy as a clam. We folded the Trikke up, threw it in the car and headed home.

When we got there, I pulled the Trikke back out and did another lap around the block. This thing is crazy fun. It literally works every part of your body from your feet to your arms and chest. By bedtime, I felt pain in my legs and shoulder, but it was totally worth it.

I think the Trikke is going to be a great tool for fitness. I'll keep you updated on my progress.

A Crazy Goal Realized

After a week spent on the couch, recovering from the Swine Flu, I was getting more than a little nervous about the Lake Travis Relay. I felt better, but the funny thing about the flu was how sneakily it sapped me of all my energy. I was terrified that I'd feel great, jump in the water and be a piece of driftwood after a dozen strokes.

Luckily, I was able to get in a few good swims with teammates Crystal and Tach at the new Sammons Park Indoor Pool. These workouts brought me joy on a number of levels. First, I had not yet gotten a chance to swim in the new pool since the Temple Parks & Leisure Services Department dedicated it a few months ago. Let me say, if you haven't given the new facility a try yet, I highly recommend that you do. It is really, really nice. Second, I was able to go healthy distances at a good level of intensity without fatiguing. Finally, this was the first time I had gotten to swim with Tach. Tach is a radiologist at Scott & White who had only been swimming for about a month. Yeah, you read that right. The dude had been swimming FOR A MONTH, and he was committed to swimming in a swim marathon. Obviously that dude is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Still, swimming in the lane next to him, I would have never guessed he was such a novice. His form was surprisingly good, and, more importantly, he was going several hundred yards at a stretch without huffing and puffing. Suddenly, I was feeling confident that our team might actually finish this thing in one piece.

The night of the race, I went to the captains meeting. This year's race was much smaller than previous ones. There were only 9 teams competing, down from 30 or 40. Still, we knew we weren't looking to win.

The morning of the race, we met at the dock and picked up our pontoon boat at about 6:30. The temperature outside was in the fifties. Luckily, I thought I was prepared. I'd brought multiple layers of hoodies and sweatshirts. I also had about 7 different towels. Unfortunately, though, none of that was enough.

We had to ride the boat for over an hour to the start at Mansfield Dam. My cousin Wesley, our ringer, was tasked with swimming the first 20 minute leg. I have never felt sorrier for someone that I did for him when he jumped into that cold water. You'd have never known he was uncomfortable, though, as he swam that first leg really, really well. I had expected to be in the back of the pack early on. Instead we were ahead of a few teams when my turn came up.

The rules of the relay stipulate that swimmers must tag one another out, so as Wes's leg came to a close, I steeled myself, jumped into the chilly water and swam out to meet him. All I could think of was how cold I felt. It took several seconds for me to warm up, and then I had to remember that I was here to swim fast. I did my best to turn it on, but all at once I was learning how swimming in open water is harder than swimming in a pool. As I turned my head to get a breath, a wave would bounce me up and down. Getting my wind was much more difficult that I imagined. It took all my focus just to keep moving forward.

That's the other way that swimming in the lake differed from the comfort of the pool. It turns out, I like lane lines. I enjoy seeing that line at the bottom of the pool. In all the years that I have swum laps, I have, not once, gotten lost or found myself swimming into the corner of the pool. My first leg, though, I found myself really struggling to go straight. I'd pull my head up occasionally, and get a look at another team up ahead. I'd use them as my lighthouse, but I needed to get my bearings a couple times a minute. The last thing I wanted to do was waste time and energy swimming off course.

Another way in which I missed the comfort of the pool was that I didn't have any idea how far I'd gone or how much time I had left. In the pool, I'm hitting a wall every few seconds. I know I've just gone another 25 yards, and, my extension, I know that I've probably swum another 20 or 30 seconds. In the lake, I had no concept of my distance, and when I heard my team call out, "Ten more minutes," I was shocked. I was only half way through my leg! WTF! I felt like I had been going for 20 already.

Luckily, I was able to stay mostly on course and finish up my leg. At the end of the twenty minutes, Crystal swam out and tagged herself into the race. After Crystal it was Russell's turn, followed by my dad and Tach the rookie.

Going into the race, I grossly underestimated how the open-water would affect our time. I had calculated all of our times and figured that we would be out of the water in about 6 hours and 15 minutes. That was not realistic in the least. In reality, the 12.1 mile course took us 6 hours and 58 minutes. This time might seem insignificant, but it isn't. You see, at 7 hours, our team would have been disqualified. This means that my team, my awesome team, swam its first open-water marathon, and finished fair and square.

To celebrate, we each enjoyed some beverages and fajitas at the finish line. We were cold and wet, but we were victorious!

That night we all went out together for dinner and, to my great shock, found ourselves talking about "next year." Sure enough, while there were moments of great discomfort, I am so happy that we did this, and I think I really might be up for doing it again. Hopefully next year the sun will shine.

Feeling Swine

First, let me apologize for being such a shoddy blogger as of late, but as you’ll see, I’ve had a pretty crazy couple of weeks. It all started two weeks ago when I found myself sneezing at the end of my work day. I’d had headaches and a sore throat, but it was this new symptom that had me nervous. Sure enough, by the next morning (a Saturday if you can believe it), I felt like I’d been in a 12 round fight with a rabid Hippo.

Overnight a family of warring lemurs had taken shelter inside my skull, and walking to the kitchen to make some breakfast, I discovered that I didn’t have the energy to make the 5 yard trek across my living room. Collapsing onto the couch, I took stock. I was congested, my brain ached, and I was completely devoid of energy. This felt a whole lot like the flu. I didn’t have a fever, though, so I wasn’t too worried…I was miserable, but not worried.

Still, my wife and I took precautions. With our new baby, we knew it was better to be safe than sorry, so, as painful as it was, I did my best to stay away from the cute little midget, and we put a temporary hiatus on our own PDA (I can’t imagine how trying that must have been on her, as attractive as I no doubt was in that state).

I spent that whole weekend on the couch. I limited my movements to those necessitated by my bladder and bed time. Based equal parts on the threat of contagion and the annoyance of my sick-induced snore (she might say sick-elevated); Tara spent her nights in our guest room. I offered to make the move, but she seemed to think that the bed was already contaminated by whatever evil had taken over my body.

By Monday I was feeling marginally better, and I still hadn’t ever had even a small fever. Speaking with a friend of ours who is a doctor at Scott & White, I mentioned the weird flu-like, feverless disease; she recommended I see my doctor.

“That sounds like what we’ve been seeing a lot of,” she told me.

I took her advice and made an appointment for the next morning. I left a message with my boss saying that if I got the go ahead, I’d try and be back at work after I saw the doctor.

I didn’t make it back to work that day. You see, that thing they’d been seeing a lot of, that was H1N1, THE SWINE FLU, and I had it. At my doctor’s suggestion, I spent the rest of the week wearing a mask and staying at least 6 feet from anyone I didn’t want to infect. It was awful.




My baby has just started reaching out to you when she wants you to pick her up. It’s the most perfect gesture in the whole wide world. It absolutely melts your heart. Imagine, if you can, the anguish of not being able to respond by taking her in your arms. I didn’t get to hug or kiss my wife or baby for 7 long days. This isolation was worse than any of the symptoms of the disease itself.

By the end of my quarantine, I was ready to climb up a wall.

Sufficed to say, this was all a pretty severe blow to my fitness regiment. Not only did I never work out for that whole period, but I pretty much blew off any idea of calorie counting as well.

What’s worse, even after I was feeling better, I could tell that my energy was still pretty low. With the Lake Travis Relay now just one week away, I was very, very nervous that I might not have the strength to compete.