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.