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.

Long Time Coming

Bless me, reader, for I have blogged. It has been almost two weeks since my last post. What's worse, it's not like I've been too busy working out to write something.

It all started when my beautiful little angel brought a cold home with her from day care. Generous little infant that she is, she decided to share that infect with my wife and I. Thankfully; I didn't get too bad a case. I never had to miss work, but it did affect me. I felt like I was smuggling a few liters of lead around in my sinuses, and I had a killer sore throat. The real problem, though, was that I woke up every morning feeling just awful. Upon getting out of bed, I inevitably felt like I was going to toss my cookies.

Here's the thing. It's hard enough to motivate oneself to get out of bed early and workout when one is a peak (peak for me at least) physical condition. Doing the same thing while nauseous...pretty much impossible. The result was that I honestly didn't work out at all for more than a week. I missed two weigh-ins at the Summit.

All of this would have been okay, if only I'd been smart and continued to track my calories on LiveStrong. Of course, that isn't what I did. Being sick I was able to rationalize all sorts of culinary evil. I was eating just as many calories as if I'd been working out consistently...without the part where I actually did work out.

Most unfortunate of all, though, I let all this just build and build. I could have started tracking calories at any point, but I didn't. I wrote off an entire week because I figured I'd already messed up to badly to redeem it. Then, even after I had recovered, I was scared to get back to work.

I haven't posted in the last two weeks not because I was sick, not because I was busy but because I was ashamed. I messed up, and then I let my embarrassment over the mistake keep me from getting back on track.

I apologize to those of you who have been so faithful about reading these silly posts and offering me such kind encouragement. Ultimately, it was the repeated comments from friends and family about my dearth of posts that initiated this one. This Monday, I started working out again. I did the same this morning, and I'm committed to keeping it up all week. Likewise, I'll be back on LiveStrong holding myself accountable to my eating decisions.

The lesson here is nothing novel, but it is still profound: it's never too late to turn things around. I don't know how much weight I may have put back on the last two weeks. I wouldn't be at all surprised if I found myself back in the 200's Friday, but that won't keep me from weighing in. I'm back, baby!

No, I don't think I can dance...

As I've mentioned before in this blog, I do a lot of my working out before sunrise in my living room. I've had some very positive experiences with workout DVD's. While the overly enthusiastic presenters often get on my nerves, I like getting pushed further than I would normally push myself. Still, watching the same videos over and over can get tedious. Rather than just buying a bunch of these things (which could easily stink), I decided last week to try renting some from Netflix. I'm a fan...of the idea.

Netflix has a spectacularly large selection of workout DVD's. You can browse through over 1,100 videos offering everything from prenatal yoga, kickboxing and boot camps to workouts featuring tennis and (I kid you not) aerobic striptease. The big question, where do you start?

I started with familiar territory. I'd had a great time sweating to The Biggest Loser: Fatburn Yoga, so I thought I might as well stick with discs related to reality programs I often enjoy.

This is the part where I point out that I watch a lot of football, own power tools enjoying camping. In other words, I'm a dude, a manly one. That said, Dad, if you're reading this, stop now before it gets ugly.

The first workout DVD I rented was So You Think You Can Dance: Cardio Funk. I know what you're thinking. Stop. I got interested in the show through my wife (a dancer from age fetus). I like seeing her respond to the performances. Those dancers are superhuman.

All that to say: I rented the video thinking it might be a fun way to get a really good workout. The reality, however, is that the workout was neither very fun nor very high impact. I felt much, much sillier trying to follow along with the "choreography" here than I ever did playing karate kid with the Budokon disc I tried a while back. At least with that disc I broke a sweat! I understand that they had to dumb down all the movements to make them achievable by non-dancers such as myself, but the result was a workout so diluted that it barely earned that distinction.

I like the idea of trying a workout disc out before I buy it. I'll definitely be searching the Netflix library again in the future. I won't, however, being doing back to this particular disc ever again.

Sorry, Dad.

Three Day Weakened

The past three days have been spent celebrating Labor Day. Is that why I felt the need to gorge myself until I felt like I was about to go into labor.

This weekend, we spent time with my wife and my parents and a group of their friends. We laughed. We played games. We passed around the baby. Oh, and we ate to the point obscenity. I took this photo of the desert table. Dontt adjust your scroll bar. You read that last bit correctly. They had a desert table, dedicated to itens that were rich with sugar, butter and evil...I spent a lot of time there.

What is it about spending time with loved ones that inspires us to do so much cooking and so much eating? Have you ever attended a really fun reunion in which people set out a table of fitness accessories or periodically engaged in group work outs? I haven't.

Something about the magic of an extended weekend seemed to lead me to mistakenly believe that calories didn't count and fitness was optional. This has me more than a little nervous about upcoming longer holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Now I'm left with four days to makeup for my bad behavior over the last three days.

Weekly Weighin: The More Things Change...

It's Friday, so this morning it was once again time for me to face the scale. I didn't make it to the pool this week, but I've been really good about doing morning workouts in my living room each morning. These are the weeks that I don't know what to expect.

According to the scale, my ambivalent feelings about my weight loss were completely warranted as I neither gained nor lost any weight. Once again the scale read 199. I guess I'm a little bummed to have not lost any weight, but part of me is just happy to have stayed below 200.

It's been a bit of roller coaster lately.

I've lost, gained and lost weight. Now I appear to be sitting still. This week I'm going to really step it up and make things happen.

Outside My Comfort Zone

Yesterday, I woke up at 4 a.m. and felt a little ill. Deciding that a little extra sleep might be a good remedy, I turned off my early workout alarm and went back to bed. After all, wouldn't bouncing around getting exercise make me a lot more likely to puke? Still, the instance got me thinking about how hard it is sometimes to push myself out of my comfort zone.

Even after four months and 20+ pounds, I still have trouble getting up early enough to workout. I still struggle with basic dieting priorities, too. My wife made some awesome chocolate chip cookies this weekend. Do you think I turned them down? Do you think I even passed the jar all weekend without eating one? I wish.

It's amazing how quick I am to revert back to my lazy roots. Sleeping in is still an attractive notion. Ignoring a few calories still smells like a good time.

In life, doing the right thing isn't usually the hard part; discerning what the right thing is, poses the real challenge. It seems to me, therefore, that getting fit is deceptively simple. I almost always know what the right choice is (except for my peanut butter fiasco). It's just that the right thing isn't always the most fun.

Weekly Weighin: There & Back Again

First of all, if you got the reference in the title of this post, I owe you one hug. Now that we have that out of the way, on with the morning's blog. It's Friday, and I'm posting in the morning, so you know I must be happy with the results of the morning's weighin.

Last week was the first time I've gained weight since I started this journey. Suffed to say, I was mildly displeased. This week, I really cranked up my diet (less than 1,600 net calories every day). I also got in two good swims at the Belton High School pool and a pretty good living room workout yesterday morning.

All that to say that I was confident I'd lost weight this week, but I wasn't sure how much. All I wanted was to weigh less than I did two weeks ago. I figured that would go a long way to erasing the shame of last week's gain. Stepping atop this scale this morning, fingers cross, muttering to myself: less than 99.8...less than 99.8...less than 99.8...

Sure enough, the kind little robot registered my new weight as being 99.4. That means that I lost all the weight I gained last week plus an extra 0.4 pounds.

My goal for this week? I want to lose enough weight that even if I gain weight again the week after, I'll stay below the 200 mark. I call it Ambitious Mediocrity.

Fat-butter and Jelly

One of the things that I love most of about LiveStrong.com is that is makes tracking my calories really easy. Still, there a few little things that I often don't bother adding to the count. For instance, if I pop one of those after-dinner mints on the way out of a restaurant, I don't bother counting that. Likewise, I often don't count diet sodas because they don't have any calories. This morning, though, I discovered that one of my "doesn't really counts," does, in fact, count...a lot.

Thing is, I like me some peanut butter. Like any average 5-year-old, I could eat a PB&J for lunch every day and have nothing but burps and grins to show for it. Sometimes as a snack, I'll grab a spoonful of the stuff and just savor every minute of it. Lately, as part of my campaign for increased slimness, I've even switched to the low-fat variety. Good for me, eh?

Thing is, it isn't good for me, and it does count. I looked on the back of my jar this morning and had to enlist the help of three co-workers in pealing my jaw off the floor. Do you know how many calories are in just 2 tablespoons of reduced fat peanut butter? 200! Those calories are spawning from a whopping 13 grams of fat!

Holy Toledo! I might as well have been injecting a few syringes of lard into my jugular each night! For every spoonful of this delicious little evil that I was consuming, I would have to swim about a kilometer.

Morals of the story? 1.) I'm an idiot. 2.) Snacks, and I mean all snacks, count, so we should be counting them.

Weekly Weighin: Relapse!

So... I weighed in Friday morning. I haven't posted the results yet. If you guessed that the results didn't have me sprinting to a keyboard, you guessed right. For the first time since I began this journey in May, I stepped aboard the scale and saw a number from my past. Sure enough, I gained weight, and it sucked.

After a 45 minute workout at the Summit that didn't include swimming, I stepped on the scale, stepped off, stepped back on again, got off, removed my shoes, stepped back on, and felt the joy drain from my heart. Last week I dropped below 200 pounds for the first time since high school. At that time, I said, "All I can think about right now is that after years in the 200's, I will not be going back. Yeah, baby!" Well, seven days later the scale read 202.4, making me not just fat, but a fat liar.
The funny thing is, I was so sure I was going to have gained weight last week, but I was unprepared for it to be the case this time around. In retrospect, I don't know how I didn't expect it. Thanks to the closing of the Summit pool and my brilliant M-W-F incident, I only got in one swim last week. While I went on a lot of runs with my dog, none of them really constituted aerobic exercise (we haven't gone much more than a mile.).

On top of all that, my diet was not what it should have been. I'd be great for the first two-thirds of the day. Then, I'd get home for dinner and eat big helpings of delicious (not healthy) food. I even had desert a few nights. On what planet could I have thought that would result in weight loss?

Sufficed to say, this just got real. I might have thought it was real before, but I was mistaken. As of Friday, I was three pounds heavier than the week before. I have four days to lose those pounds, and that's what I'm going to do.

M-W-F? More like W-T...

Last night I was pretty sure I knew what I'd be blogging about this morning, my first trip to the Belton High School pool. I was right...sort of.

One of the reasons I had decided to give the Belton pool a try was that it was open from 5:30 to 7 for sunrise swim. That meant I could go super early, get a longer swim in than I had been at the Summit and still be home to help Tara out with baby Sydney. With that in mind, I set my alarm this morning for 5 a.m. so that I could get there as close to the pool's opening as possible.

If you are someone you regularly gets up up at 5 a.m., and you are not a vampire, I want to hug you. You must need hugs. It has to be a lonely existence. You know you was out walking the streets at 5 this morning? Serial killers. I can't prove that. I didn't see them killing anyone, but I can only assume they were up early, getting a jump on stalking their prey.

Myself, I'm not sure my level of consciousness would actually meet the medical definition of "awake." It was more of a mobile coma, really. Honest to Pete, when my alarm first went off, I turn on the TV trying to figure out how to shut it up. My wife, she was a big fan of that. Big fan.

Somehow, lurching around the quiet house like Frankenstein's monster, I managed to put on my swim suit and clothes, grab a pair of sandals, and get myself into the car. I followed the directions on my phone to Belton High School, and I got out, ready to roll.

If you've never seen it before, the Belton High School pool is gorgeous. It looks really beautiful...through its glass doors. That's as close as I got. You see, the sheet with the pools hours was posted outside the facility. I had seen the sheet online yesterday as I made my plans. What I somehow failed to see next to the sunrise swimming hours were three of the most damning letters in the alphabet, "M-W-F."
That's right, I got my not-so-perky butt out of bed early this morning, only to learn that the pool I was supposed to be swimming in wasn't open this morning. If there was any caloric burn to match the scalding self-loathing I felt in that moment, I probably would have been able to watch my waist shrink before my eyes. I drove the whole way home floating in the stink of my own stupidity.

I was in a pretty bad mood when I got home at 6 (20-30 minutes before I had planned to be getting out of the water). In that moment, I knew the only thing that would cheer me up was to spend time with my loved ones. Of course, my beautiful wife and baby were way to smart to be awake at that hour, so I settled for the next best thing, our big orange dork of a dog, Sulley.

So it was that this morning, instead of getting in a good swim, I slipped on my super-ugly-but-awesomely-comfy-calf-amplifying shoes, and took my dog for a morning run. At least he was happy about the way the morning had gone.

Goodbye, Summit Pool

This morning I got to the Summit, ready to swim, only to be reminded that as of this morning the pool was no longer open to lap swimming. There is good reason for the closure, but I was still very grateful when a little luck allowed me to get in one last swim.

I had read this last week in the Summit's electronic newsletter. If you are a Summit member or just someone considering membership, I highly recommend subscribing by emailing Summit General Manager Ron Germann. Of course, I read the newsletter and promptly forgot about the pool schedule, so I didn't have anyone to blame this morning but myself.

The Summit is having to close the pool this week because as school starts up, the life guarding staff dwindles and disappears. Without guards, the pool can't operate. There is still recreational swimming for the remainder of this week, but lap swimming hours are no more.

Once I got myself changed into my workout clothes and started a set of lat pulls, Karen from the front desk found me and let me know that the regular lifeguard had come in just in case. It turned out I could get in a swim after all!

It was a bit sad, honestly. The whole swim felt like a bit of a breakup. This was the pool in which I had rediscovered my love for swimming. Without this pool I would not be training for the Lake Travis Relay. I'm really glad that I found the Summit's pool this summer, and I'm looking forward to next year's season already.

Of course, this leaves me without and obvious place to train for the relay in October. As I see it, I could swim in the Temple High School pool, but I believe it's only open at lunch, which would mean sacrificing my lunch breaks with Tara. I could also utilize the Temple Parks & Leisure Services Department's new Sammons Park Indoor Pool, but I don't know how many dedicated lanes they offer during the pool's open/lap swim times. I've also been told that the Belton Master Swim team trains three mornings a week and two afternoons. That's a lot of potential butt-kicking, but I am unsure of the price.

I have to figure it out pretty quickly, and I'll let you know how it goes.

Ugly Shoes: Dog's Best Friends

Friday, a package arrived in the mail that I had been eagerly awaiting. Within it lay two of the ugliest shoes you've ever seen. They are Vibram Five Fingers, designed to offer the benefits of barefoot training with protection of shoes. In the last three days, I've become a big fan of the shoes...but not as big a fan as my dog.

I first read about these shoes on another blog. They claim to mimic all the feelings of being barefoot while protecting you from hot surfaces and debris. Moreover, unlike traditional shoes, which require us to strike the ground with our heels, Vibrams emphasize striking the ground with the ball of your foot. According to the company's site, the result of this new stride, which becomes much more pronounced when you jog or run, is a strengthening of the feet, ankles and calves.

The second I put these babies on, I was hooked. They really are ridiculously light. They feel very much like they aren't even there. After a few minutes of walking around the house, I realized that I needed to take these puppies for a test drive. I have to say here, I am not a runner. I am not a jogger. I barely qualify as a walker. Still, I was curious, so I grabbed my dog Sulley, a big woolly Australian shepherd, and went outside.

We walked for a few steps, he was clearly thrilled just to be out getting exercise. After a few seconds, though, I started to pick up the pace. This shocked Sulley completely. For a moment, his shepherding instincts kicked in and he tried to slow me down to a manageable speed. Then, when he realized I was serious, he started to jog with me. It felt great, the shoes really did require me to bound on the front of my foot rather than the heel. It felt really bouncy, and Sulley was loving it, so I took us up to a run. Sulley, elated, started galloping next to me like he a big orange stallion.

Long story shorter, since I put the shoes on Friday night, Sulley and I have been on four runs. That's roughly four more runs than Sulley and I have been on in the two years prior. Something about running barefoot is just way more appealling to me than running normally. Sulley, as a result, is in love with the Vibrams.

I should mention, too, that the shoes' promise of strengthening my feet, ankles and calves appears to be to true. This morning my calves feel like they've been injected with concrete. They are tight and sore, and begging for more.

Have you ever felt after just a few workouts that you can already see results? Forget that it's biologically impossible, you could just swear that your muscles have grown. I was feeling that way about my calves last night.

"Do they look bigger?" I asked my wife.

She just laughed at me. She's pretty mean like that.

"Just you wait," I assured her. "One day soon you'll be meeting me at a restaurant, and when you get there first you'll have to tell the waitress that your husband is coming, and you'll describe me as medium heighth with the calves of a centaur."

Centaurs are, of course, the half-man-half-horse creatures of legend. They are known for many mystical abilities and their chiselled calves. True story.

Weekly Weighin: Yeah baby!

As of this morning my wife and I'd weight both begin with the same number. No, this is not my way of saying that she's gained 100 pounds. I'm saying that this morning the scale read 199.8 (under 200, but just barely)! Come to think of it, baby Sydney's weight also starts with a 1. It just has one less digit. How left out is she going to feel when she breaks the 20 pound mark?

I have to say, I was extremely surprised. I've been looking forward to this milestone since I began this journey in May, but I did no think this would be the morning. My sore back has really thrown off my workout regiment this week, and I thought it was more likely that I would see a weight gain than a loss. Sufficed to say, it was a pleasant surprise.

I can't remember the last time I weighed less than 200 pounds. I know I've been over 200 for the entirety of my marriage. I think I'd probably have to go back to my sophomore year of college (coincidentally timed around my 21st birthday).

I am very happy today. All the frustrations and soreness of this process suddenly feels completely worth it. I'm not even focusing on the remaining 20 pounds I need to lose before I reach a healthy BMI. All I can think about right now is that after years in the 200's, I will not be going back. Yeah, baby!

Sore Loser

So I'm afraid this might be the week. After more than three months of tracking my progress (and sometimes stagnation), I think tomorrow might be the first time I step on the scale and discover a weight gain.

My back has really been bugging me this week. Tuesday I got in a nice workout...and probably exacerbated the problem. I haven't even tried to get in another one this week. Instead, I've opted to rest with a ThermaCare wrapped around my achin' back. These little heat-girdles have been a real godsend. I think it's funny that the packaging gives you the option to wear them either under or over your clothes. I'm not especially proud of wearing a girdle, but I imagine it feels a whole lot less odd that traipsing around like the world's cheapest superhero.


I'm definitely planning to get in another swim tomorrow (I think it was the weight machines Tuesday morning that did the real hurtin'). Of course, Friday swim or no, I have worked out less this week than in any preceding week. The scale will probably reflect that.

To be honest, I half-way hope to see a gain. I don't want to send my lazy subconscious the message that working out isn't really that important. Moreover, if I'm going to gain weight, I'd like to at least know that there was a reason other than my own sloth. I guess we'll see how it goes tomorrow.

Of Silence and Laziness

It's come to my attention that I have a bit of a tell. I haven't been blogging very actively in the last week, and I know it's because I am not proud of my workout regiment during that time.

I've only been getting in two swims a week, and I know that the garage workouts I've been doing aren't really doing much for me. In fact, I think I may have done more damage than good. My Men's Health Gym Bible has an exercise called a Romanian Deadlift. It turns out, if your going to do an exercise with the word "dead" in the title, you should really try and get it right.
It turns out that whole "lift with your legs, not with your back," thing isn't a joke. My back has been telling me so for the last few days. Being sore doesn't exactly help you get motivated to work out, either. All it's motivated me to do lately is wrap a heating pad around me like some kind of thermal girdle. Sorry, ladies, I'm taken.

On top of everything else, my diet has been...not great. All this time I've been patting myself on the back for my newly discovered portion control. Well, this weekend my beautiful wife made chocolate cookies from scratch. It turns out, portion control isn't binary. It comes in shades. As fate would have it, I am still very much a white belt. Though, I'm not sure a black belt could have walked away from those cookies.

I'm trying to get myself back on track this week. To that end I swam 3,000 yards this morning. It took just under 50 minutes. I think the last time I swam that far I had a driver's permit.

Weekly Weighin: Half-way Healthy

Is it just me, or has this been an impossibly long week. I've done a better job of getting in workouts. I used the weight bench in my garage Tuesday and Thursday mornings. Wednesday and this morning, I went for some long swims at the Summit. Since Monday, I've been really good about my diet (last weekend...not so much). All that to say, I didn't know what to expect when I stepped aboard the Summit's scale after my workout.


Tired and a little dehydrated (drinking water means gaining weight) I stepped onto the dreaded apparatus. It flitted about between decimal points and landed at 208 pounds and a few decimals (Do those even matter? This isn't trigonometry.)This represents a total weight loss of about 21 up to this point.

I'm happy with the loss. I really am, but part of me can't help but feel a little impatient, knowing that I am still 21 pounds away from a healthy BMI. That means I'm half-way there. At this rate, it may be the end of the year before I get there.

Of course, all that matters is that right now I'm heading in the right direction.

Dehydrated Water

This morning I went to the Summit Family Fitness Center with the the intent to really push myself. I ended up swimming farther than I have in years...by 50 yards (I swam 2,550 total). The only problem with this extra effort is that I did not call on it in conjunction with extra fuel. While I had my water bottle poolside, I didn't drink from it until I got out of the water...this was, apparently, a mistake.

It seems like a real paradox that I could have been suspended in liquid for 45 minutes and emerge dehydrated, but that's what happened. I got out of the pool feeling more like I was breaking out of a steam room whose door had been jammed for a few hours. I felt sick to my stomach and a little weak in the legs. Making my way to the locker room, I think I must have been a little green because upon entering the room, one of the Summit's personal trainers shot me a concerned look.

"You okay, man?" he asked.

You know what's fun? Telling a guy who's built like an armored car that your stomach is queasy from the morning swim. He's sure to understand that, right? Surely, he's over-exerted himself before...tossing suburbans around the parking lot.

"I'm good," I assured him, but as soon as he left the room I found myself crouching down and gulping down water.

At this juncture, I would like to nominate whoever put the oscillating fans in the locker room for sainthood. What's the proper process with that, anyway? Is there a form I can email the Vatican?

I must have been a really impressive specimen, crouched before the big fan, drinking water and breathing heavily. Watch out, ladies, I'm taken!

The lesson here is pretty easy. If you're working out, be it in the Sahara or the pool, drink water. Being dehydrated stinks, and I can't imagine anyone looking attractive while vomiting in a Speedo.

First Quarter Recap

Today marks three full months of my fitness journey. I've come a long way since that first workout in May. I've lost 20 pounds and swum as many miles.

Three months from now I plan to be a middleweight (between 171 and 185 pounds). I will have been a part of a team that successfully finished the Lake Travis Relay (hopefully before the sun goes down).

It's easy to tell you what area of my routine has been the weakest. In the last three months, I have gone to the gym and worked out only once on a weekend. Moving forward I need to do something to keep myself working even when I'm not going in to the office.

Another area in which I plan to improve is weight training. For a while there I was being good about pumping the iron (even if it was in my living room). Lately, I get to the Summit just in time for lap swimming. Swimming is great, but it can't be my entire fitness regiment. I know my body craves more diversity than that.

Maybe I should set some new goals for myself come October. I could double the number of push ups and pull ups I can do (that would mean doing two). I'd also like to be able to bench press my own weight (I'm making the feat less fantastic as I slim down).

Weekly Weighin: 20 DOWN!

This has been a bad week for my fitness regiment. This morning's workout was my first since Saturday. So you see, I did not have high hopes for this week's weighin.
Sure, I've been paying attention to my diet, but it's a lot harder to stay within my calorie allowance without getting credit for calories burned. All this to say, I was pretty sure that I'd be looking at gain.

Thankfully, that was not the case. Stepping atop the scale at the Summit I was extremely surprised to see that my weight was an even 201 pounds. That's done a little more than a pound from last week, bringing my overall weight loss since starting this journey in May to 20 pounds. This is a milestone that I'm very excited to hit. Up next, I want to get below 200 for the first time in a decade!

I don't know to what I should attribute this week's weight loss. It's hard to believe that diet alone could be successful. Perhaps after a few intensive weeks of training my body was happy to have a respite. Regardless, next week it's back to work. I have another milestone to hit.

When life gets in the way...

Let me start on a positive note. This weekend marked the first time that I actually worked out on a Saturday. It's been a struggle with my weakened weekend motivation throughout the process, and it felt good to break the streak and sweat on a day that I didn't have to report to the office. That said; it's all been downhill since Saturday...

It feels like all the forces of nature have conspired to keep me from working out this week. Since I began this blog in May, I have not gone as long between workouts as I have since Saturday. Of course, there was a good reason for each morning workout I missed, but isn't there always?

Returning from a three day weekend trip to Corpus, my wife and I learned that infants don't need to have traveled by plane to be jet lagged. Our beautiful little girl had her sleep schedule all scrambled, and she had taken us down with her. For me that meant treating Tuesday morning as an opportunity to recover some lost z's. Excusable.

Wednesday morning I had some very important work that I needed to get done before I got to the office. This is a rare occurrence, so I knew I needed to work in, not work out. Hey, sometimes the job has to come first.

Last night I promised myself that I'd do better. I set out my packed workout bag, folded the morning's clothes and filled my water bottle. I set an early alarm and settled into bed. My alarm went off before 6, just as I'd planned. What I didn't expect, though, was the look on my wife's face. Apparently little Sydney had woken her up every two hours during the night. (Before you go thinking I'm one of those guys who willingly ignores the baby's crying and lets his wife take care of it, let me just assure you that, instead, I'm one of those guys that could sleep through any noise on earth. I've asked my wife to shake me awake to lend a hand, but she won't, especially not nights before she knows I'm getting up early.) This morning she looked exhausted. Swimsuit on and gym bag in hand, I couldn't leave her alone with the baby, who the monitor showed was waking up again.

So I didn't workout this morning. I stayed home and took care of my daughter while her mom got some very much deserved sleep. It made the fifth day in a row that I haven't worked out.

The thing is: I don't really regret any of the aforementioned decisions. I needed sleep. I had to work. My wife needed a hand. I guess if I step aboard that scale tomorrow and it shows the dreaded gain, I won't lose sleep...much. Moving forward all I can do is get back to work.

Weekly Weighin: Closing in on milestones

It's Friday, which means that this morning I dragged myself out of bed and headed over to the Summit Family Fitness Center to workout and weigh myself in. This is my 13th weigh in since I began this journey back in May, and I'm closing in on a few milestones.

After a quick 2,050 swim, I again made use of the Summit's new family changing rooms and their awesome swimsuit dryers. Dried off and full of dread, I made my way over to the scale. After the pain of the plateau I hit earlier this month, I was happy to see my new weight was 202 pounds. That's just one pound lighter than last week, but I'm grateful for it.

I'm one pound away from having lost 20 pounds total. I'm only three pounds from dropping below the 200 pound threshold for the first time since freshman year of college. That would also mean I'd love 10% of my initial body weight. I'm looking forward to hitting those goals over the next couple weeks.

Spin Dry

Thoreau said that, "He is riches whose pleasures are cheapest." Well, consider me rich because I often get a pick kick out of the little things. This morning the object of my joy was a dry swimsuit.


The only downside to these morning swim workouts is that for the rest of the day I have either store a wet swimsuit (Mildew Welcome!) or hang it up to dry in my office. The first option is just gross. I usually choose the second option, though it gives my office that locker room chic.


Not today, though. This morning I had the great pleasure of checking out one of the Summit's new family changing rooms. They are very nice inside. They have restrooms, changing tables, a shower...and an automated swimsuit dryer. Say what? That's right, this magic little machine requires less than a minute to take my sopping suit and make it dry. No more worrying about my suit or my gym bag all day.

It may seem small, but it sure did make me smile. Plus, while I'm sure the rooms are busy during peak pool hours, they are completely free in the morning.

I don't know squat!

Last week felt good. I finally posted some weight loss after a few weeks atop the plateau, and I noticed I'd gotten too small for a couple of my belts. What a great feeling! This week I have a different feeling...and it is not a pleasant one. I'm one sore dude.

Yesterday rather than go to the Summit, I did another living room workout. Once again I plugged in the Wii and asked it to do its worst. The resulting workout lasted about 20 minutes and left me feeling thoroughly abused. How could that tiny machine pack so much pain into 20 short minutes? One word: squats.

I hate squats. I hate lunges. I hate squat jumps. I hate alternating lunges. I hate any exercise that engages whatever theoretical muscles called on by any of the the aforementioned activities. Two seconds into a set of squats I feel like the Tin Man in those terrifying last moments before he rusted over. "Oil can," my soul cries out, but there's no one there to hear me.

I don't know why I have such trouble with squats and lunges. In theory I know that I have the requisite muscles, but in practice they never seem to be home when I call on them. Honestly, I look at my four-month-old daughter as she pops up and down in our arms, and I know with certainty that she has stronger quads than me. I'm not even talking about stronger in proportion to her size, either. I'm saying that right now today she could squat more weight than me. The little punk probably wouldn't even need a spotter. I love her dearly, but she may be dangerous.

All this to say that my legs were trembling all day yesterday. This morning I woke up to find that the jello had not solidified and I was still walking on spaghetti noodles. I was extremely nervous about how well I'd hold up for the morning swim.

I hit the water, though, and was quickly reminded why I love swimming. My tired legs got a break for 45 minutes while the rest of my body got a good workout from my 2,300 yard swim. I think I'm starting to see why I never developed the muscles require to do squats.

Back out of the pool, though, I'm hurting. I limp around my office like Forrest Gump before Jenny told him to run. My thighs and posterior feel like they've been through a violent caning session. If this is what being fit feels like...what's the point?

Waisting Away

This Sunday something wonderful happened to me. I was getting dressed for Church, and as I put on my belt...it wouldn't close. I looked down and realized with a pathetic level of glee that I'd run out of holes!

This has happened before, but in the opposite direction. I've outgrown belts before, but the idea of shrinking out of one is profoundly new to me. The best part is, unlike pants or shirts getting too big, I never saw this one coming. I've dropped a pant size, but I hadn't even though about my belts, though.

Just as has been the case with every single pound I've lost and every step I've taken, this small success just adds fuel to my fire. I'm actually proud of how far I've come. I'll admit, that there have been days when I've stood in front of the mirror and thought, "This is what I look like after losing 18 pounds?" For each of those days, though, there is a day like Sunday when I see how far I've come, and it makes the road ahead seem less intimidating.

Ambition Should Be Made of Sterner Suff

As part of my workout this morning, I decided to time myself swimming a mile (roughly 1800 yards in the pool or 36 laps). Of course, being a master excuse maker, after 1,000, I thought about checking the clock. After 1,500, I reminded myself that I'd gone a "swimmer's mile," and tried to convince myself to stop. Fortunately, I was able to ignore my inner lazy-butt, and finish the mile I'd set out to swim. It took me a little over 27 minutes, which means that I was averaging more than 45 seconds per lap.

The thing about long distance swims is that they offer you plenty of time to think. It's just you and two white walls in there. During this morning's swim I was doing some math in my head. I've stated before that by the time of the big race, I'd like to be swimming a mile in 20 minutes. This morning I realized that my goal might be a little too ambitious. After all, if I can get each of my 50's down to a clean 45 second average, that would still only take me 1,333, yards in 20 minutes. In order to swim a mile in 20 minutes, I would have to cut my average time per lap down to just 34 seconds. Now, I can do a 34 second lap. In fact, I can probably do several of them. I truly doubt, however, that I could do 36 of them consecutively.

My new goal is to cut my average time per lap down to 40 seconds. That's a pretty significant improvement over my current speed, and it would allow me to finish a "swimmer's mile" (1,500) in 20 minutes.

I really hate the idea of backing down from a goal, but I also do not want to be setting myself up for frustration later. I hope that I’m striking a good balance between setting goals that are ambitious and goals that are attainable. After all, if after training my butt off for the next three months I am punching out my 50 yard laps in 34 seconds, how psyched will I be!

Weekly Weighin: FINALLY!!!

It's Friday, which means that this morning it was once again time for me to step atop the Summit's scale and potentially start blubbering as if I were watching a Beaches marathon on Lifetime. It had been a long three weeks since the last time I'd observed any real weight loss, and I needed to see some movement on the scale this morning.

So, after getting in a really good swim workout, I prepared myself for the scale. This might sound simple, but it is not. Three painful week of null weight loss have made me paranoid about every ounce of weight. Therefore, I toweled off this morning like I was the wicked witch trying to avoid melting away. I’d dry myself off, wring out my shammy, and towel myself off more. I kept this up until I was dryer than a Baptist wedding (one to which members of my extended family were either not invited or frisked upon entry). Then I made my way over to the dreaded device.

Once again, at this juncture I was still looking to jettison any foreign weight. I took off my glasses. I took off my watch. I plucked my eyebrows and trimmed my nose hairs (this last part did lead to some strange looks from my fellow gym-goers.) Then I stepped aboard and prayed.

I don’t really even know what number I was hoping for, but I know I didn’t want to see 206 again. Fortunately, I didn’t. To my unmitigated delight the scale read 203.4. I know I don’t usually include the decimal, but I’m so happy that I can’t help it. Finally after almost a month I’ve lost weight again, 3 pounds no less! This brings my overall weight loss to 18 pounds since the beginning of May. I’m hopeful that, in the next week or two, I can take that number past 20 and break through the 200 pound threshold. I haven’t been there since I was a teenager, and man will it feel good.

Counting Calories...and Cookies

Just a few short months ago, counting calories sounded like the kind of torture that interrogators might use to in order to force a confession out of me. "Counting calories," right there you just alluded to dieting and mathematics, two things that on their own make most people cringe. Sufficed to say, these days I am counting calories, and while it's not at all stressful or difficult, I have noticed a major drawback.

I cannot say thank you enough to Cora, another Fit to Tell blogger, for recommending LiveStrong.com and their Daily Plate service. The site makes the whole process of counting calories extremely quick, easy and un-intimidating. In minutes you can set up a free account, input a few of your person stats and tell it your fitness goal. The site does all the work, calculating the ideal number of calories you should be consuming each day. Then, to make life even easier, the site has a database of about a trillion different meals from restaurants, cookbooks or just combinations of everyday ingredients. After lunch, I just type in whatever I ate and it adds it to my daily log, calories and all. It even keeps track of calories I burn working out.

All of this to say that, at any given moment I can tell you roughly how many calories I've had today and how many more I'm allowed. Having all that information readily available is awesome...and dangerous.

Take yesterday for example. In the morning I swam a little over a mile at the Summit. The workout lasted about 40 minutes. LiveStrong gives me credit for burning just over 800 calories. My calories allowance for the day goes from about 1,600 to 2,400. All this is great. I put in my meals, a powerbar here a piece of fruit there...and I notice I've have some calories to spare. ENTER THE COOKIE!

During the Temple Parks & Leisure Services Advisory Board meeting yesterday, we were all given little box lunches from McAlister’s. I ripped through my sandwich and stared down that the beautiful golden brown visage of this chocolaty desert.

"That's a no-no," my rational, weight loss oriented mind said.

"Sure, but we have so many calories left for the day," my lazy, fat id countered. "It would be a shame to let them go to waste."

Long story long, my id won the debate. I ate the cookie. Point of fact, I devoured the cookie, savoring each and every morsel of it.

At the end of the day, LiveStrong tells me that I did just fine. Still, I feel guilty. Counting calories should be about rationalizing cheating, should it? What do you guys think?

On Like Donkey Kong!!!

It seems like a million years ago that Russell first brought up the idea of doing the Lake Travis Relay. At the time it seemed like science fiction. As of this weekend, it's officially on like Donkey Kong.

After a few communication glitches, I was finally able to talk to my cousin Wesley about the swim. It still surprises me every time I see Wesley that he's not still 9 years old, but he has grown up to become a genuinely awesome guy. He's a student at the University of Texas (my own private Mecca), and this summer he is making money... (Wait for it) TEACHING SWIM LESSONS! What's more, On top of having swum for his high school team (a lot more recently than me); Wesley has participated in multiple open-water triathlon swims. Can you spell "ringer."

Wesley makes number six in our dirty half dozen. Other members include Russell and Crystal (cardio workhorses and survivors of some crazy long bike races), Russell's brother (who Russell describes as being "a real athlete"), my dad (the only member of the team currently swimming multiple 2,500 yard swims each week) and myself (lazy, overweight former high school swimmer turned self deprecating blogger). Now that's what I call a ragtag crew!

Now that it is on like Donkey Kong, the relay (October 10th) feels a lot sooner. Friday it was three whole months away. Now it's just 87 days away!

Over the next 87 days, I've got a lot of work to do. I would like to lose another 20+ pounds, and I'd like to speed up my time so that I can average 3 miles an hour. We'll see how all that goes.

Muscles, Fat & Bologna

This week's weight loss (or rather lack thereof) definitely has me a little frustrated. Of course, the knee-jerk reaction to not liking what one sees on the scale is to go with the old, "Well, you know, muscle weighs more than fat..."

Did you ever notice that no one mentions this when they've actually lost weight? "Gee, Bill, you must have really converted a lot of muscles into fat to post that kind of loss." Doesn't happen. You know why? The whole thing is a bunch of balderdash.

Does a pound of muscle weigh more than a pound of fat? I'm pretty sure I was asked a similar riddle in the second grade involving feathers and lead. I knew the answer then, still do. A pound is a pound. Muscle doesn't "weigh" more than fat. Muscle is more dense than fat. A pound of muscle will take up much less room than a pound of fat, but they will weigh the same.

Beyond the inaccurate phrasing of the statement, "muscle weighs more than fat," there is a deeper meaning, the ultimate fitness excuse. The idea here is that I could build up X amount of muscle and burn Y amount of fat, and the different in their densities would offset one another. Isn't that a comforting thought? Just because the scale doesn't move doesn't mean that I'm not getting slimmer? The thing is, though, I don't buy it.

Along with being denser, muscles require more calories of support from your body than do fat cells. In other words, by adding muscle we burn more calories, even during periods of rest. This is a pretty good argument for doing strength training as a part of your weight loss regiment. It also makes me think that it's not very likely that I could add much muscle without seeing a drop in weight on the scale.

I'm not looking to make excuses for my failure to lose weight. Excuses are what got me heavy in the first place. Excuses don't burn any calories. My answer to this week's weigh in is going to be to stay the course. I know that if I keep working and keep making healthy decisions, it will catch up with me.

Weekly Weighin: Are you kidding me?

It's Friday, and that means stepping onto the Summit scale for the first time in a week. I don't mind telling you that this is the first week that I haven't felt dread over the proposition. Between last week's zero lose and the fact that I really brought it this week, I knew I was in for a big number. Of course, I was wrong.

Last week I was frustrated by not having lost more weight, but I knew I could only blame myself. I hadn't put in the time at the gym (just two real workouts), and my diet was far from a priority. Bouncing back from that experience, I worked my butt off this week (unfortunately, not literally). Monday and Tuesday I got up early and worked out to the Biggest Loser Weight Loss Yoga (it may sound funny but it's not...it's torture). Then, for the first time in about twelve years, I put in three consecutive swim workouts Wednesday, Thursday and this morning. What's more, these weren't wimpy swims. I wasn't just floating for 40 minutes. I was really pushing. I did a number of sprints as part of interval training, and I timed myself on longer distances.

Approaching that scale this morning I felt great. I felt deserving. Then I stepped aboard...and I felt like I'd been kicked in the pants. I lost weight, but it was definitely in decimal form. For the last two weeks I'd weighed in at 206.8 pounds. This morning, the scale read 206.2. For those of you whose calculators don't have room for a decimal (and who didn't excel in middle school math), that means I've only lost one half of a pound in the last week. HALF A POUND!

This puts my weight loss to date at 15 pounds after 10 weeks of working out. I know I should be focusing on that 15, but I can't help but feel the 10 in marrow of my bones.

How does that happen? I worked out. I watch my calories like they were invading enemy forces. I did all the things I was supposed to do. I feel like I got gypped. I know, I know, I should be grateful that I lost something or that I didn't gain weight. I'm not grateful, though, I'm frustrated. How am I supposed to get my lazy butt out of bed at 5:45 to workout, when it hasn't really paid off recently? Wouldn't it just be easier to stay fat and just hang out with my wife and baby?

Don't worry. I haven't given up. I'll be back to work this week. I just hope that next Friday the scale is a little friendlier.

As Fat as Texas

Over the last two months of trying to lose weight and get fit, I've been doing a lot of thinking about my little girl, Sydney. She is so perfect and (thank God) healthy, and I want to make sure that I provide her with a good example of a healthy, active lifestyle. A recent report has me thinking that this is more important than ever.

A group called Trust for America's Health at HealthyAmericans.org recently published this report, tracking the weight statistics of residents of each of the 50 states. They found that Texas ranked 14th for the highest percentage of obese adults (27.9%) and, more tragically, 20th for the highest percentage of overweight or obese children (32.2%).

I don't know what's more horrifying here, that nearly one in three of our kids is overweight to obese, or that that statistic still puts us ahead of thirty other states! The kids tested for this study were aged 10 to 17. In my mind, this is the time in a child's life that they are establishing the habits and behaviors that will follow them most of their lives. Keeping in mind that poor diet and physical inactivity are one of the leading causes of preventable death in America (right behind smoking), we're killing our kids.

To be clear, I don't blame video games, the Internet or "the rap music," for this problem. I blame...us, parents. It's our job to make sure that our kids are being active and eating well. Lord knows, my mom had to use the jaws of life to get me to eat my vegetables, but she did it (most of the time). I wasn't on my knees begging my parents to sign me up for little league, but they did. Way more importantly than that, my parents did a great job of modelling healthy decision making. I can remember my dad jogging at night and promising that I could join him once I was able to run in place for an hour (two episodes of The Cosby Show). Likewise, I have fond memories of my sisters and I Sweatin' to the Oldies alongside my mom (Trust me, it was cool at the time.).

That's the dad I want to be to Sydney, one who doesn't just push her to be healthy, but makes her want to be healthy. I don't know what I can do about the other two out of three Texas kids, but I'm going to make sure she's one of the healthy ones.

I'm proud to say that Temple Parks & Leisure Services has made keeping Temple kids healthy a major priority. The Department offers regular programs to keep kids of all ages active and healthy. Moreover, as part of its expansion, the Summit Family Fitness Center has added a state-of-the-art youth fitness room. I've gotten to go in there a few times, and I have to say, it's pretty awesome. There are stationary bikes that let the kids race with eachother over a connect network, a huge video game dancing program, and an activity wall that challenges kids to hit or throw things at targets as they light up. All of these neat toys combine for a great workout that most kids won't even realize they're getting.