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.