I'm a girly man...with a manly book.

This morning I went to the Summit armed with a workout that I borrowed from the Men's Health Gym Bible. It promised to be very good for losing weight. In fact, the book promised that the workout was so intense that it should only be done for a period of six weeks. I'm don't know how many pounds I lost...how many calories do you burn having your soul crushed?

The idea of this workout is that it emphasized building dynamic muscles through high-impact exercises done with little rest, followed by interval cardio and then repeated all over again. All that is fancy gym speak for "This is going to hurt, hurt, hurt...hurt."

I understand that some weight training requires that you get spotter to watch and make sure that you don't crush yourself under a barbell. I didn't ever use a barbell, but I wanted to have a spotter on hand to defibrillator me if my heart stopped.

The exercises all had names like dumbbell lunges, dumbbell step ups, dumbbell wood choppers (I'm not even making that up!). Once I'd finished these eight exercises in quick succession, it was time for some interval cardio training.

The idea behind interval cardio is that rather than getting on a machine and putting in a long, low-intensity workout, you work in short burst. For a little more than six minutes, I would sprint 30 seconds, jog 60, sprint 30 seconds...you get the idea. The idea was me pouring off sweat like a wet sponge in a tightening vice.

Truth be told, I didn't make it through the second take of the workout. About halfway through the second run, I was pretty sure I was about to pass out or vomit. I finished whatever set I was working on and began guzzling water as if I'd just emerged from the Sahara after a week of wandering.

When all was said and done, this workout really highlighted just how weak I am. I couldn't do more than a dozen push ups without shaking and grunting, and anytime I finished using a weight machine, I'd immediately set it to a higher weight. That way, the next person to use the machine might think I was a real boy.

Hopefully after a few more weeks of working out, I'll feel like I actually belong in the gym. In the meantime, can someone please spot me on my push ups?

Weekly Weighin

Before the wife, baby and I headed out of town for the weekend, I made my way to the Summit Family Fitness Center this morning for a brutal workout and a slightly less brutal weigh in.

So, where am I after almost a month of healthy(ier) living? Well, I weighed in this morning at a bulbous 214 pounds, one pound lighter than last Friday.

To be fair, I've been rounding down previous week's weights. While I reported a weight last week of 215, it was actually 215.4. This week's weight was 214 even, so really I lost about a pound and a half. If you factor in a bowel movement I had a few minutes after I weighed in, my weight loss is probably closer to two pounds. When you really get serious, taking into account the altitude and barometric pressure, I probably lost about 143 pounds...roughly. Did I mention that I've been weighing in on Jupiter. The gravity is much stronger there. In actuality, I'm actually disturbingly petite. You should probably be worried about me.

To be honest, I'm a little disappointed to only see a one pound weight loss this week. I've been working hard, and I really feel like I've been seeing results. Perhaps it was a super noticeable pound.

The Biggest Devil

So, I woke up this morning and popped in my new Biggest Loser Yoga for Weight Loss DVD. I'm a huge (literally and figuratively) fan of the show, and I thought if anyone could help me shed the pounds it would be my old friend Bob. I don't know if I lost fat, but I definitely shed a few pounds in tears.

I've done a little bit of yoga before. I remember lots of breathing, some deep stretches and repeatedly struggling to keep my balance. This DVD was not that kind of yoga. Gone were the stretches that encouraged flexibility. Rarely was it a matter of mastering my own balance. This was less about calm breathing and more about...hurting me.

In a previous post I talked about how the super-chipper models in most fitness videos drive me insane. "Isn't this exercise a fun challenge?" No, madam, it's not fun...and now I want to hurt you. Their gleeful expressions during horrible exercises lead me to believe that they are masochistic fools.

Bob, good ol' Bob, he's a different animal. He's not a masochist...he's a proud sadist. At one point, over the sounds of my own agonized grunting, Bob called out (I wish I was kidding.) "I can smell your leg cooking."

Seriously, Bob, that's terrifying. Not only does it convey the fact that you take pleasure in my pain, but it leads me to believe that once my limbs reach the right temperature you very well might kill and eat me. The only thing protecting me right now is the fact that I'm still pretty fat. I'd be way to high calorie of a snack for Bob right now.

An added benefit of this video is that the folks demonstrating the poses behind Bob aren't the underwear models you find in most fitness DVD's. Instead, the background is populated by former contestants on the Biggest Loser. This is great because now I don't have my go-to excuse of, "Well of course I can't do that, just look at that dudes abs. He's smuggling an egg crate!" Instead, I'm actually smaller than some of these folks. I almost typed "in better shape" there, but then I remembered how hard I was crying trying to hold those poses.

Overall, this was a great workout. It really did push me to my physical limits and beyond a few times. I'll definitely pop it in again once I get over the image of Bob Lecter feasting on my roasted quads.

The Performance Fleece Workout

As I've mentioned, I did not spend this last weekend locked in the gym. I did, however, get an unexpected cardio session in while on a shopping trip with my wife and daughter.

While my wife was off trying on all of the garments from the left side of the store, baby Sydney got a little fussy. Apparently my eight-week-old enjoys clothes shopping about as much as I do. The difference, she cries a little louder than I do.

Hearing my baby cry had an instant affect on my nervous system. I immediately registered two things. First, the little lady was probably hungry. Second, I am completely useless to her as a source for nourishment. If she wants to talk movie trivia, I'm her man. Foodwise, though, I got nothin'.

The one tactic I've found for calming Sydney when she gets really worked up is pacing. The calming effect of this pacing is directly related to the speed with which I walk. All this is great when I'm trying to calm her down in our living room. In a crowded clothing store...it creates a bit of an scene.

So it was that with the beautiful, all-be-her screaming, baby in my arms I began walking around the store. Actually that's not quite it. Walking sounds pretty easy on the eyes. This was more of an Olympic race-walk between the aisles. Instantly, Sydney started to calm down...right up until I tried to stand still when she launched right back into her frantic filibuster.

Back to race-walking I went, doing lap after lap around the store. Here's the thing, your first time around a store, bobbing up and down at high speed, you can almost pretend to be shopping. You might just be a busy dad, trying to get in and out of the store as quickly as possible. "Nope, that didn't look like the color I wanted."

The second through fortieth laps, however, you're just a weird looking guy who may or may not be in the process of kidnapping a semiconscious baby. "Where was that exit? Exit? Exit? Exit?"

All told, I walked like that around the store for the better part of twenty minutes. Of course, when my gorgeous wife finally walked out of the fitting room, the baby was fast asleep, and I was covered in sweat.

I'm not sure if she's going to take me shopping again anytime soon. SCORE!

Sugary Siren Song

I just walked into the break room here at work and was faced with a dastardly villain in a cardboard box. Apparently there were some doughnuts left over from a meeting this morning in the conference room, and an evil co-worker decided to leave them out in the break room...where they sit mocking me.


For me, doughnuts are a real trigger foot. I see those innocent looking O's and just think, "What's the worst that could happen?" Next thing I know, I'm crying into an empty box and watching my belly expanding before my eyes.

As part of my year-long commitment to getting healthy, I don't plan to go on one of those No diets (No Carbs, No Meat, No Joy), I do think I'll have to draw the line at doughnuts in the afternoon.

Still, as I walked away I could hear them calling out to me in their sweet, frosted siren song. "Come back, James. We won't hurt you. We'll just sit on your tongue and remind you of you favorite Simpsons episodes."

Those vile temptresses, they know just how to hurt me. I resisted them, though, opting instead for the less attractive bottle of water on the left.

Goooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllls

I should start with a confession. I was not an especially good boy this weekend. Aside from mowing the yard and shopping with my wife (a near marathon by my standards), I didn't get in a real workout. I realize that if I want to reach my goals, I'm going to have to start looking at the weekend as time off of work...not time off of being fit.

That said, I realized this weekend that I haven't really talked about any specific goals of my own. I've said I want to lose weight and get healthy, but that's pretty vague. How much do I want to lose?

It's hard for me to think in terms of a goal weight that isn't attached to my favorite sport, Mixed Martial Arts (MMA...Most folks know it as "ultimate fighting"). I've been watching MMA for a few years now, and I'm thoroughly addicted. To be clear, I have no intention of ever actually fighting. I tried taking a class once, only to discover that I don't like getting punched in the face. Still, when I think of my potential weight loss. It's in relation to the UFC's weight classes and titleholders.

Currently, and for some time now, I'm a Heavyweight (206-265 ibs). That means that I'd been facing likes of the tank-shaped fellow on the far right. Brock Lesnar has to cut weight to make the 265 pound cutoff. I don't want to be Brock Lesnar.

If I drop another ten pounds, I'll be a Light Heavyweight (186-205 ibs). That's probably the most exciting group of fighters to watch, in my opinion. The new Light Heavyweight champ is Lyoto Machida. He's the kind of Karate Kid that would have been a nightmare for Ralph Macheo. Truth be told, even fat I'm too small for that weight division.

Next up would be the Middleweights (171-185 ibs). Right now I'm 30 pounds from fitting in with this group, and that seems like a pretty ambitious goal. Still, when I look at belt holder Anderson Silva, I start to lose bowel control. Again, those guys are pretty tall. If I end up putting on a lot of muscle, this might be a good goal.

If I end up looking wiry (isn't that a beautiful dream?), Welterweight (156-170 ibs) is where I think I should be. Welterweights like champion Georges St. Pierre often walk around much heavier than 170 pounds and have to cut weight before fight day. If I can get under 185 pounds, I'll just imagine that's the case with me.

The last UFC weight class is Lightweight (145-155 ibs). At one point, Lightweight champ B.J. Penn was my favorite fighter. Not to put too fine a point on it, though, but barring the amputation of a limb, I don't see myself weighing 155 pounds. Remember, my goal is to lose weight and get healthy. I have no plans of implementing an eating disorder into my weight-loss arsenal.

Weekly Weigh-in

Well, it's Friday, so it was time for me to weigh-in at the Summit Family Fitness Center. Each of the preceding weeks, I had posted a loss of 3 pounds. This week...not so much. I weighed 215 pounds. If that number seems familiar, it's because it is exactly what I weighed last Friday.

I shouldn't be surprised by this lack of improvement. I worked out one less morning this week than I did last week.

Still, I feel better than I have the last few weeks. My ability to get through a workout without wanting to vomit has dramatically improved. Moreover, this week I felt like I was finally starting to see results, subtle as I might be.

All the same, losing nothing is better than gaining, I suppose. This week I'll have to redouble my efforts to ensure I have better news next Friday.

A small victory over 2AM James

I've written once before of my ongoing battle with 2AM James. He's my own personal Loki, turning off my alarm clock in the middle of the night to keep me from working out in the morning. This morning 2AM James and I clashed in a battle royale that saw my hand raised in victory.

My workout alarm went off at 5:40 a.m. this morning (Sure it seems early, but it was almost 10 in London.), but it was 2AM James that got to the device first. Dedicated to keeping me fat and lazy, he switched the alarm to a more comfortable 6:30 and laid back down to rest.

It could have ended there. It would have ended there a few mere weeks ago, but not this morning. A little voice in the back of my head would not let me go back to sleep. "You need this," he said, and he was right.

I've suddenly realized that beginning this commitment to healthier living is not at all unlike overcoming an addiction. I've never had a real vice before, but I'm starting to realize that comfort was my drug of choice. Just as with a real drug, if I'm going to beat it, I'll have to do it one day at a time. I can't wonder whether or not I'll be doing push ups and cardio when I'm 40. I can't say that I'll never enjoy another gorgeous, greasy burger. All I can control is this moment. I can live healthy right now, and worry about tomorrow when it comes.

Instead of focusing on how much it stinks to be awake and sweating before the sun rises, I can get out of bed and get to work. I know it will be hard, and I'm not at all sure that it is going to get easier any time soon. I can't let that stop me today, though.

That's why this morning I didn't go back to sleep. I didn't let 2AM James claim the day. I got my butt out of bed and get my morning workout done.

It's a tiny (microscopic really) victory, sure, but it gives me a confidence that I can do this. I can live healthier starting today, starting right now, this very minute. Take that, 2AM James.

Please, Sir, I want some more...

Last night I found my self up past midnight working on something for the Temple Movie Club (If you aren't going, you should be.), and I couldn't bring myself to get up early to workout this morning. Rather than write about a workout I didn't have, I thought I'd tell you about another lifestyle change that I'm trying to implement. No more second helpings for the Jimbo.

I've talked before about how portion control is a weakness of mine. I go to a restaurant, get handed a plate large enough to serve as an Olympic medal stand and get to work. Instinctively, I see my plate, ridiculously full as it may be, and view it as an assignment. I can't count the number of times I've finished a meal in pain. I ATE UNTIL IT HURT ME! Let's take a moment, realizing that there are people in the world starving to death, and reflect on just how obscene that is.

I'm told that a goldfish will eat until its stomach bursts. I am not a goldfish. From now on I only to eat enough to keep swimmin'.

I'm not there yet. I'm not the guy at the table who covers half his plate with a napkin. That still feels like a waste of food...and a napkin for that matter. For now, I'm just not letting myself go back for second helpings at dinner.

At a wedding reception this past weekend, I faced my first real challenge on this front, the all-you-can-eat buffet. Once upon a time, I would have viewed this spread as a challenge to my manhood. "I'm takin' this thing down," would have thought to myself heaping spoonful after spoonful onto my first plate. This time, my first plate was my last plate. Technically I had some cookies later, but they were served on a napkin...not a plate.

Like every aspect of this new commitment to healthy living. I think portion control is going to be a process. I'm hoping that eventually my stomach will shrink a little bit. For now, I'd settle for my eyes getting a little smaller.

Bosu...Gesundheit

I've written a few times about my morning workout using a fitness DVD. The video came with a piece of fitness equipment my wife and I bought almost a year ago only to pretty much unused until two weeks ago. This workout tool is called a Bosu ball, and for an inanimate object, it's pretty mean.


I was first exposed to the Bosu ball at the Summit Family Fitness Center. They have a few near their stretching station when you first enter the building, and, like a fool, I tried one. The resulting 45 second workout left me sore and fixated on the seemingly simple device.

The principle of the Bosu is that it adds an element of instability to your workout. In other words, movements that would otherwise be quite inane become downright difficult. Where once I would grunt my way through an ab crunch without too much trouble, on a Bosu your body is struggling not just to sit up but to keep you on top of the ball.

The beginners DVD I've been watching using the ball as a base for step aerobics, abdominal and back exercises and as a tool for upper boy moves like push ups. After a few years of dedicated couch-potatoery, I have trouble completing pretty much every segment of the workout. When it's over, though, I feel like I've accomplished something.

I would encourage Summit members to check out their Bosu's. There a few diagrams of example exercises posted near them. I think you'll find, as I have, that by destabilizing your workout, you move the dial up to 11.

For folks you who aren't members of the Summit, you can mirror that practice of destabilization by balancing on one leg while doing ordinary moves like bicep curls or even squats. Just don't hold me accountable for how sore you feel afterwards.

Weekly Weigh-In

I stepped on the scale again Friday morning for the second time since I started this year-long commitment two weeks ago. My new weight is 215. I'm far from slender, folks, but I have lost six pounds in two weeks. It isn't much, but it's progress, and I'm happy to see it.

Cardi-No

So, true to my word, I got up at 5:30 this morning and made my way to the Summit Family Fitness Center. Earlier this week I expressed concerns that I would ever be able to really push myself at the gym. This morning I learned that I need not have worried.

I arrived at the Summit with a confidence that I did not possess that first morning. I strode up to the front desk, scanned my membership card, and made my way over to the elliptical. You may recall that this is the part where I have to negotiate a workout with HAL, the super-computer that runs the elliptical matrix. HAL and I may not have gotten along really well upon first meeting, but we're bosom buddies now. On a whim, I decided to that instead of doing either the Fat Burn or Gluteal (I think that means butt) routines, I'd give Heart Rate a try. I've got a heart, right? Seemed like a no-brainer to me.

Here's what HAL didn't tell me. The Heart Rate setting on the elliptical works by selecting an ideal heart rate, something like 70% of the point where your heart would explode in your chest (I'm guessing); then the machine works to keep you at that heart rate. Sounds simple. In fact it's torture.

Fun fact: the word "cardio" comes from the Greek root "card," meaning "heart" and the Latin root "io," meaning "GOOD GOD MAKE IT STOP!!!" Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

Anyway, back to my ol' friend HAL and his evil ways. I started running on the machine. By putting my hands on the metal bars, HAL was able to keep track of my heart rate. Anytime it dropped below 136 beats per minute (which seems like about 76 too many beats to me), the machine increased the resistance so that I would have to work harder to continue. Of course, I didn't know this going into the workout, so I started going pretty easy. Enraged with my sloth, HAL dropped a virtual mountain in my path. Suddenly I felt like I was trekking through quicksand. Every step was hard. I went from dry to drenched in sweat in the blink of an eye.

Suddenly, my heart rate was going plenty fast, and when the machine cut my mountain in half, I had time to take stock. I was five minutes into a 40 minute workout, and I felt like I was going to die. This wasn't exercise, this was a heart attack drill. I kept waiting to feel a shooting pain in my arm and just drop into the churning gears of HALS hungry robot belly.

I turned to the lady on the machine nearest me.

"Am I supposed to feel like I'm going to die?" I asked her.

She shot me a cheery grin and kept running.

What made matters exponentially worse was that as I got used to the resistance level, my heart rate started to drop...not like on Greys Anatomy, just down from 140 to 136, 135...134!!! Knowing that the guillotine was about to drop, I struggled to get my heart rate back up. Running harder didn't seem to work, so I started just trying to convince my nervous system that we were under attack. I'd just shout out random words.

"Ahhh, bear! Look out for that lion. Dear lord, is that Michael Jackson?!?!"

While these cried did lead to a surprising amount of attention from the other people working out, they did not raise my heart rate even a notch. Maybe if I'd taken out my headphones... Sure enough, HAL dropped my onto the sheer face of Mount Everest.

I made it through, panting and weeping, and with about ten minutes left in the workout the resistance dropped down again to a manageable level. Knowing the pain of having the other shoe drop, I took off running. Holding on to those sensor handles, I pumped my legs on that elliptical, like I was running away from my heart. I was going to keep my heart rate up no matter what. I might have looked a little funny for a few minutes there, but at least I didn't have to do anymore mountain climbing.

I will say, though, that as much as it was torture. I'll probably do the heart rate setting again next time I make it to the Summit. I like feeling pushed. I like feeling like I'm making progress.

This weekend I picked up a new workout DVD for my morning living room sweat sessions. It's yoga for weight loss. It will either be great or great fodder for future blogs. We'll see.

I'm a Yogi...and not the bear, either

This morning I decided to shake things up with my morning workout. Rather than the Bosu DVD I've been using the last week (saying the word Bosu actually makes the pool of gelatinous mush that sits where my abs should be ache) I put in a video I'd picked up a long time ago. The series is called Budokon. The idea is that in a 40 minute workout you get a sampler of yoga, martial arts and meditation, and somewhere in there you sweat... a lot.

All in all, I thought the workout was fine. I'd say it was a little less intense than the Bosu disc, but I definitely got a workout. To my surprise it was the yoga that really pushed my limits. I found my muscles quaking as I attempted to hold positions like: Downward Facing Dog, Warrior Pose and Elephant Diaper Change (okay I may have made the last one up). I didn't realize that yoga could be so intense.

I always associated yoga with tree-hugging hippies. I figured it was just something to do between granola binges and peace rallies. It turns out that, despite the dangerous lack of iron that their vegan diets provide, those hippies are in pretty good shape. In fact, I'm thinking those hippies could probably beat me up if they were such dedicated pacifists.

Every now and then I'd be holding a pose and the instructor would say something like, "Be sure your heels are pointed towards the floor." While making the adjustment, I'd think to myself, "Now what's the point of th...HEAVENS THE PAIN!!!"

I used to think I was a pretty flexible guy. I can almost do the sideways spits, and, once upon a time, I could put both my legs behind my head. The guys in this video, though, they say things like, "Push your chest towards your hips." What does that even mean? Is that legal in Texas? Is the human body even supposed to do that? I'm going to ask a physician before proceeding.

When I bought the DVD, it was for the martial arts stuff. I'm a big fan of Bruce Lee and kung fu movies, so I figured it would make for a "fun" workout. In reality, standing in your living room kicking at thin air feels a little silly. Instead of feeling like Chuck Norris gearing up for battle, I felt more like that kid you gain YouTube fame for pretending to wield a light saber.

Tomorrow I'm going to getting up even earlier (is healthy living supposed to make you want to cry?) and going to the Summit. Living room workouts are fine, but it just doesn't have the same feel. Moreover, I want to step back onto the same scale and get a good idea of how far I've come in the last two weeks.

Making Time

Before I started this year-long commitment, I had not consistently gotten exercise in a very long time. The reason, at least the reason I told myself, was that I simply didn't have the time. I realize now that this was untrue, and I think it's this understanding that will make all the difference for me.

The reality is, I've always made time for things less important than fitness. In the mornings, I always had time to watch Sports Center while leisurely eat my sugary breakfast cereal. I've shown great discipline in always making time to watch two to three hours of television at night after work. For the last year, I've even found the time to carve out three hours every Wednesday night to lead the Temple Movie Club (If you aren't going, you should be).

It's not that these things are bad (maybe the sugary cereal part). All this is simply to say that I do have time. It's a question of how I prioritize and spend that time.

My approach so far has been to wake up thirty minutes earlier and work out before my wife and daughter get out of bed. As I have been working out using a DVD these last few days, the early morning schedule has the benefit of shielding me from possible derision at the silly moves I'm no doubt making.

I don't know if I'll be using this morning hours to get my sweat on for the rest of this year. My guess would be that life will continue to change and demand that I make adjustments and changes to my daily ritual. The difference is that from now on, I know there is time for be to make healthy living a priority.

I'm grateful, too, that along with my living room workouts, the Summit Family Fitness Center is open most days from 5 a.m. to 10 p.m.. Those hours are shorter on Friday and weekends, but those aren't the days that I run out of time.

RIP-ped Pants

So, when is it time to get fit? I'd say that spontaneously-combusting wardrobe is a pretty good indicator.

This morning, while holding by beautiful daughter in my arms and trying to get ready to go to work, I made the egregious error of squatting to pick up a burp cloth off the carpet. The sound that accompanied this seemingly innocuous movement was an unmistakable rip.

Sure enough, I reached down to find a rather sizable hole covering a rather embarrassing portion of my physique. Seriously, my pants couldn't have ripped at the knee? That's at least a cool look. Nope, this tear was less punk and more misdemeanor.

Luckily, I had time to change pants before work. Honestly, I think my co-workers would have preferred that I come in late rather than come in exposed.

Now the question is, do I run out and buy a new pair of trousers, or do I wait a little with the expectation that my new workout regime and diet will translate into a smaller pants size down the road?

Filler Up

It's been pointed out to me by persons far fitter than I that an important step in losing weight is drinking my water. I've been working to do that lately. I purchased a super-cool insulated water bottle. It holds 24 ounces at a time, and I'm refilling it 3 or 4 times a day. Here are my observations.

I don't know if the water itself is doing anything to make me look more like Hugh Jackman, but it does do a great job of filling my ample gut and making me feel less hungry all the time. Feeling less hungry means I'm snacking less. Snacking less, I'm hoping will translate into a svelter me.

Another added benefit of the added H2O intake has been a notable increase in bathroom breaks. I'm not being lazy here. I truly believe that taking more bathroom breaks has made me more productive. I come back to my computer feeling refreshed and more alert.

I haven't gotten all the way off the diet soda train, but, by drinking water more often, I've cut my rations by roughly a third. That too, I'm told, should help me cut the pounds.

Too Perky for My Blood

My wife has been transitioning back to work after maternity leave, so while trying to get into a morning routine, I've gotten a bit of a late start the last few mornings. Rather than skip a morning workout, though, I've made use of one of the many fitness DVD's in my house (most have been played only once, others less). After two such living room workouts, I've learned two lessons. One, I'm lazy. Two, I'm not perky when it comes time to sweat.

The video I've been using features more than one person doing the workout. One presenter models the moves at a beginner skill level. The other demonstrates how to make the moves more difficult. I don't pay much attention to that second lady. She has nothing to offer me at all. I'm not sure what’s the matter with her, but starting today, I’ll be praying for her.

Still, even doing the simplest versions of the moves, halfway through the workout, I'm hurtin'. If this is what it's supposed to feel like when I go workout on my own...I'm not doing it right. Over and over again I find myself falling behind my onscreen counterparts. By the end of a set, I am sweaty and exhausted. Many times I find myself unsure that I am going to be able to finish the disc. Does this mean that my morning workouts have not prepared me to even watch a DVD?

I guess I haven't been pushing myself hard enough at the gym. I can definitely see now the value of enlisting the services of a personal trainer. I know that the Summit has a number of personal trainers on staff. In fact, I think I may schedule a session with one of them down the road, once I'm confident that I would survive the encounter.

I will say this, though, any personal trainer of mine will not be a morning person. These video instructors drive me up the wall. "This move is a really fun challenge," I'm sorry, madam, but I disagree. I'm having no fun at all right now.

At first, I thought this woman must be some kind of masochist, taking pleasure in the horrible pain of the moves she demonstrates. Then I realized she's no masochist; she's a full-blown sadist, looking into the camera and finding joy in the knowledge that one day her image will drive me to tears in my living room. I don't know how she sleeps at night...probably hanging upside down in a cave.

I guess the issue is that, at least right now, exercise is not fun for me. I hope I get there, but for right now, if a personal trainer ever looked at me and smiled, "Isn't this fun," I'd be done for the day.

James vs. 2 AM James

I've discovered that in my efforts to get fit and live a healthier lifestyle, I have a real and dangerous adversary. I call him 2 AM James.

You see Regular James wants to get fit. He's committed. Regular James sets out his workout gear before going to bed and makes sure his water bottle is clean. Regular James knows this process isn't going to be easy, but he's in for the long haul.

Then there's 2 AM James. 2 AM James could care less. 2 AM James would be way more interested in fitness if it came in the form of a pill or perhaps a chalky chewable tablet. 2 AM James likes getting a full night's sleep. He hates being sore, and he really hates being tired.

All this sounds simple enough. Clearly in the battle Regular James has the advantage, right? I mean, he's organized. He's motivated. What could go wrong? I tell you, 2 AM James is an evil genius. He knows he doesn't have to break Regular James; he just has to put up a few roadblocks.

2 AM James got his name by turning off the alarm clock in the middle of the night. This way, he knows, I will wake up too late to workout...or late enough that he can convince me it's too late to workout. Another successful strategy he has employed is to put off or not finishing work at night. He knows this will mean I have to wake up early, not to get my sweat on, but rather to finish up whatever jobs he has left for me.

I realize that to beat 2 AM James I have to think like him. What do I know about 2 AM James? He's lazy. If I put him in a situation where real effort is required to do his evil, he's just as likely to let the moment pass.

To this end, I've started plugging in my alarm clock several feet from my bed. Now, shutting off my alarm would require 2 AM James to get out of bed and walk across the room. He's not going to do that. He'd rather just get the sleep he can in the meantime.

I'm not saying that I've beat 2 AM James. No, ours will be a war that lasts a lifetime. I will say, though, that I got up early this morning and beat him up a bit.

Weekend Wrapup

So...I did not do a very good job of staying healthy this weekend. We were traveling, and I the whole time playing stay-at-home dad to my daughter in the hotel room while her mommy was off working. Still, I could have done more.

Nutritionally, I've been working to eat healthier food in healthier proportions. The latter is the more difficult of the two for me. I have no problem ordering from the heart-healthy menu. I just have trouble convincing my stomach that it has consumed an actual meal

Tomorrow morning, I'll get back to work burning calories and causing myself pain. Stay tuned for the burn.

Day One: Feeling the Pain

Well, I was feeling great after the morning's workout. Then about 15 hours, I started to feel some pain. To be more accurate, I felt as though my thighs had been injected with hot magma.

I know exactly how I did it, too. I had been told that your are supposed to occasionally go backward on those ellipticals. I attempted this for a few minutes, and my body was not a fan.

I could just hear my legs shrieking, "Why are you doing this to us? What is the purpose of this? Do you plan to run backwards up stairs to evade a lion?"

I know that the more I do this, the less my legs will hurt. That knowledge is cold comfort today,though. I'll probably be spending the day walking around like Ahab with a charlie horse.

Day One: Am I doing this right?

Well, I did it. I woke up this morning at 5:30 and dragged my self kicking and snoring to my first real workout in a long, long time.

First things first, let me say that at 5:30 in the morning I'm, at best, mostly dead. Human beings are not meant to wake up at 5:30 for anything short of a house fire. I wasn't ready for exercise. I was a zombie. Fortunately, my wife is a pretty sound sleeper, so she didn't wake up to my cries of "BRAINS!!!"

Knowing my endless potential for making excuses to myself, I took the time last night to set out everything I would need last night. I put on my gym clothes, picked up my bag, and headed out the door. I will say this about 5:30 in the morning. I didn't need my sunglasses.

I have heard that it can be hard sometimes to find free cardio machines at the Summit, but apparently the big crowds wait for dawn. I had the lay of the land. It was only at that moment, however, that I realized that I had no idea what machine I would want. Cardio equipment all look like variations on the hamster wheel to me, so I had no real preference. I decided that one of the ellipticals would be best because it allowed me to pump my arms while running. I just thought I'd get self-conscious trying to figure out how to hold my arms, otherwise. I could just picture myself on a treadmill, arms crossed across my chest. I don't know much about fitness, but that seemed off to me.

So I stepped aboard the elliptical only to again discover that I was way outside my element. I guess I thought things would start up when it registered my weight. Instead, I was faced with HAL from 2001. It asked me what kind of workout I wanted and then gave me about a dozen options. Interval 1? Interval 2? Was this computer code? Did I need to understand Linux to operate one of these things? In my mind, exercise would be more popular if it patterned itself after fried chicken. Wouldn't you like your workout in either sweaty or extra sweaty? After a few terrified moments, I settled on fat burn or something that sounded destructive.

Here's the thing, I'm either not doing it right or cardio is incredibly boring. For more than half an hour, I pretty much just hovered in one place. Sure HAL said I went three miles, but I didn't. I just ran in place, pumping my arms. Like a moron, I'd forgotten my headphones, so I couldn't listen to any of the Summit's TVs. I had a book, Steven Johnson's Everything Bad is Good for You, but I dare you to try reading while sprinting in oblong strides and pumping your arms. I'm pretty sure your brain would explode. So there I was, running in place with nothing to do but sweat. Essentially, this machine was nothing more than a human juicer.


Thirty-three minutes later HAL said I was done. I'd intended to go for 45 minutes, but who am I to argue with a supercomputer. I hopped off the hamster wheel and headed towards the water fountain. I refilled my empty water bottle and noticed that they keep a large scale in that corner. Morbidly curious, I stepped aboard. I guessed I've been trained by watching the last two hundred seasons of The Biggest Loser because I was surprised when the digital counter didn't dart around a fifty pound increments before settling on my weight. Instead, it flashed right away. It turns out, I am currently weighing in at 221 pounds. This isn't the heaviest I've ever been, but, sufficed to say, it's a few pounds more than I weighed back on the Ray High School Swim Team. While I have no intention of ever wearing another speedo, I don't plan on weighing 221 for another day. That is my starting place. Where I end is up to me.

After getting my face slapped by reality, I headed over to rows of weight equipment. Instead of hamster wheels, circuit weights remind me of those brain puzzles my grandmother always used to give us for Christmas. I'm not sure which direction I'm supposed to face. I don't know whether to hold the bar with my hands or my ankles.Thankfully, they have illustrations on them. The thing is, I don't want to be the guy who needs to look at pictures to figure out weight equipment, so I did my best to pretend I was looking over the machine at the TVs on the wall. "Huh, who's winning that lacrosse match, now?"

I worked my chest, shoulders and arms. I did three sets of ten for everything... because that sounded like a real thing. I'm pretty sure I at least was sitting in the right direction each time.
That was it for my first workout. All told, I think it was a success. I survived, so that's a start. I'm not too sore just yet, but that's what tomorrow is for.

I'll keep you updated with posts much shorter than this one.