The Unspoken Addiction

WEEK 2

Okay, I am going to admit it right off the bat...I cheated.  The scale was leaning innocently there against the wall, minding it's own business-gathering dust like it was supposed to. A coursing, crushing, calamitous wave of curiosity swept me right over to it.  It had only been a week, but I HAD TO KNOW if all this walking/running/lifting/agonizing was getting me anywhere. Apparently it isn't because I gained two pounds. Said scale is now in the box for the yard sale....okay, I'm kidding.  All my years in sports have prepared me for the muscle weight gain and the initial fluctuations that go with making major changes to a health routine. I'm still pissed at the scale though...

Whatever.



The good news-I MADE IT THROUGH WEEK 2! The scale attacked me on the first day of week 2, so I'm pretty proud of the fact that I didn't get all depressed and go all mega-donut-and-Dr. Pepper-binge right after that. No, I saved that for last night.  After a triumphant week of dragging my sorry butt to the gym, running fabulously around the block in my sexy bandanas and flowing tresses (okay, it makes me FEEL better to imagine it that way) and "Just Dance 4-ing" the heck out of our living room, I lost a serious confrontation in the grocery store.

You see, it was like this....  I went to the store to get apples and salad.  But the apples are suspiciously close to the bakery.  I think stores are set up that way on purpose so the donuts can whisper to you. They say they nicest things...they really are sweet.  And they are also spawns of the devil liberally sprinkled with evil, decidedly drizzled with damnation, cleverly coated in corruption, and teasingly topped with atrocity.  So I bought a dozen.  Then, since I was already marching happily down the pathway to the deepest circles of hell, I bought a Dr. Pepper too. Sigh... it was a bad day. 

McKayla Maroney

Luckily, I left my pile of bandanas out on the kitchen table.  There they were when I walked in the door, tapping their collective feet and crossing their collective arms with that disgusted look made famous by Olympian gymnast McKayla Maroney on their collective little fabric faces. (Sugar-induced hallicination?  Perhaps.) I was instantly sorry that I succumbed to the whispers of the dounuts-as well as curious as to why I was hearing food speak. It truly must be an addiction if breaking it is this freaking difficult. So, out of sheer will and a committment to make serious change, I did the previously unthinkable.  I threw the dounuts away and dumped the Dr. Pepper out (GASP). 

The Pile

Did this take super-human effort?  YES. Did I throw out all 12 donuts?  No, I ate one of the donuts and drank 1/2 the Dr. Pepper before I got home. It was crazy like an alcoholic hiding a flask in the car, or a junkie shooting up between their toes to hide the needle holes. Many would scoff that it couldn't possibly be as serious as alcoholism or drug addiction, but it is. I am facing a very poor family health history and diabetes. I'm only 40. My partner showed me an article just this weekend about how they've shown that lab rats will choose sugar over cocaine every time. Even the rats that were addicted to cocaine would choose the sugar over cocaine.  And last night I chose sugar.  Two weeks ago I performed my own intervention.  Let's just call last night a relapse. Today, I'm back with the program.  Total fall from grace averted.

Week 2 Complete.  Gym and running habit developed.  Bring on Week 3 to set the habit in stone.  I'm going to kick my own ass.  Week 3 is all about eating the right foods and making good food choices when I have to travel...but that is another story.

Note:  Thanks to all who have sent such wonderful words of encouragement.  This is a difficult journey and I appreciate your support so much.  If you think others would enjoy reading about my struggles on the path to healthy (or especially if you think it would help them) please feel free to share my blog at will.  If nothing else, maybe it will give someone a laugh for the day.  :)

The Bandana Monologues

The first week of bandanas.

Today I feel triumphant.  It's been a week since I launched my pursuit of shrinkage through bandana-wearing workout-fabulousness.  I worked out 6 days this week as planned!  Historically I've walked around the block maybe once in a month, patted myself on the back for giving it a whirl, then rewarded myself with a corn-dog, or something equally as detrimental. (Since retiring from football, that is).  This time around it's going to be different for a variety of reasons. Number one, I'm way more determined to change. Number two, I believe that I deserve to feel better. Number three, people are watching.  A lot of people. Nothing is more motivating than knowing that people might actually be reading about this little experiment. So, here's how the week went....

Day 1-Tuesday: I have an iphone, so I uploaded a few things to help me out. I've heard great things about the "Couch 2 5K" program, so I got that one. Knowing how far and fast I am going when walking or running is always good to set a baseline to track progress, so I uploaded the "Map My Run" app.  To keep track of what I'm shoveling into my face I downloaded "MyFitnessPal."  Thus, electronically outfitted, I embarked on my first run/walk. I turned on the mapper, and kicked on the C25K program with every intention of kicking ass and taking names. The first day of the program you walk for five minutes, then alternate running for 60 seconds and walking for 90 seconds for a duration of 20:00 minutes.  Piece of cake!  Easy peasy.  The warm-up walk was lovely, the birds were singing, the sun was shining, people were smiling...then the lovely-voiced little lady of the C25K program came on and said, "begin running."  So I ran.  After 30 seconds the sky began to darken, the winds began to moan, and I swear the earth turned into fire.  My lungs and shins were aflame. I actually looked down to make sure I hadn't lost my feet and was somehow running directly on my ankles. Sadly, I had to slow to a walk after 45 seconds.  And then the silly little C25K bitch said, "start walking."  I would've punched her if I could. But I walked on.  During the next round, I ran for about 15 seconds and hell on earth opened up again. I made the decision to walk the rest of the loop.

It is exactly one mile around my block.  I did it in 18 minutes that first day. My shins ached even after I iced them. Overall, I was proud that I had gotten started, but shamed at how far I have let my health go. As for the food I consumed...the diet just isn't on track where I would like it to be yet.

  Day 2-Wednesday: Today I walked.  My shins needed a day to pull themselves back together, so I did the loop twice!  Rare is the time I have walked two miles in the past two years, but I was feeling pretty frisky, so I booked right on past the house and went around again!  It was fantastic!  Now to combat the horrid habit I've gotten into of rewarding myself with food. This will be the hardest habit to break. I'm fully addicted to fast food.  My theory is that they sprinkle something akin to crack on top of everything.

Day 3-Thursday: I rested. It was a big work day.

Day 4-Friday: Couch 2 5K-the remix.  This time I ran for the whole 90 seconds...and then the earth opened up and bit my shins. And that awful awful lady kept telling me to run, walk, run, walk. She is surely a spawn of Satan. My eating habits still resemble those of the Hamburgler.

Day 5-Saturday: Gym day. 24 Hour Fitness is my gym of choice. Tech Center is my favorite because I like the people at the front desk, as well as the layout.  My hair is grown out a bit now, so there is little risk of having to deal with confused/angry/rude people in the locker room.  I went late in the evening to avoid having to walk the gauntlet in front of the ellipticals that are usually filled from end to end with already-skinny people.  Gym time has always gone one of two ways for me-awesome, fantastic and invigorating, or frustrating and irritating. I was really looking forward to fantastic.  Harry Potter was on the TV in front of the treadmill I chose. ACES! Easy walking while watching the wizard!
After 30 solid minutes of uphill trotting on the treadmill, I headed over to the weight machines. That's when they spotted me. It was a large pack of tweens. At this age I do not believe they have learned how to whisper, or to avoid pointing. I was easy prey since I was one of two people on the machines, and I'm not in my best shape. (Had I wanted to deal with a group of shrieking teens talking about me being a rhino, I would've gone to the mall). I tried to focus on doing my reps, keeping my heart rate up, yada yada, but they were obnoxious. There were about 10 of them running through the machines, yelling, screaming, giggling, hanging off everything.  Tech Center has changed their policy. Now, anyone 12 and older does not need adult supervision. According to the front desk guy, parents dump their kids off at the gym and use it as free baby-sitting. I wrote a note of complaint for the manager and left the gym disgusted, but still triumphant.  I completed 4 days of work-outs.

Day 6-Sunday: Another shot at running.  This time I made it all the way around in 16 minutes instead of 18, but I still couldn't do all the running the Couch 2 5K trollop was demanding. My shins feel minimally better though. I spent the afternoon drinking a ton of water and working on my menu plan for the week.

Day 7-Monday: This was supposed to be a gym day, but work was off-the-hook busy. So I gave running the loop another go. Getting smarter, I dug out the inhaler thingy the doctor gave me. I have a tendency to forget about it. After thoroughly albuterolling my lungs, I set out and was feeling good.  Ms. Mary Sunshine came on and told me to run, so I ran. She told me to walk, and I walked, and then I ran, and ran again!!  It was awesome! I only had time to do one mile, but I ran every time for the full time!! Like I said on facebook-I felt like I had won the Olympics! Amazing what getting air into your lungs can do!!

Summary-I'm already feeling better, and working out is a habit I will get used to easily.  Now to get my food in line. The trip to the grocery store was all green fresh wonderful.  Feel free to send your favorite get-fit recipes!

50 Bandanas to Fit



Cookies of the dark side.



I have returned! Yes, I took a deplorably long hiatus from writing, but that happens to a lot of people who turn to the dark side.  They DO have cookies!  As a matter of fact, the dark side has so many cookies that I now have a decision to make. Either I can continue eating cookies on my path to "foodicide," or I can make sweeping changes to how I live my life. The decision was easy to make after I had to conduct several Skype interviews for work. Seeing my face on the screen as the camera on my computer sees me...well, let's just say that I might be able to stand in for new baby hippos on picture day. Oy.



Graduation photo-wow, hair.

 So what happened?  I was an athlete in high school, rugby and soccer player in my 20's, football player in my 30's.  I can honestly say that my skinny train has jumped the tracks several times.  Every single time can be attributed to depression. Yes, I suffer from it.  Depression can be a killer, but stubbornly refusing to get help, or accept help can be even worse. I come from a "boot-strap" family.  You pull yourself up by them when times are hard.  You make due. You get it together and keep it together. However, I also have lived with ADHD my entire life.  Therefore, everytime I get my shit raked into a cohesive pile, SQUIRREL.  Like every impulsive, distractible, intelligent person in the ADHD boat with me, I realize that the neat little pile of life I just raked together would be so much more interesting if I just jumped in it like leaves. And my life scatters.  And changes.  And major life changes have sometimes led me down the path of depression.  And when I'm depressed...I eat. And when I eat, I eat comfort food.  And comfort food derails my healthy train. (I just realized I don't want to be skinny.  I just want to be healthy).

My last day on the field.


Okay, so, what happened THIS time?  This time I retired from football.  After 10 years of up-downs, wind-sprints, and sweating buckets under all that gear in 100 degree weather, I gave it all up to pursue my dream of lying on the couch blissfully NOT being pummeled every weekend by women twice my size. Okay, that wasn't really my dream, but that is what happened. With this extreme life change came depression. Between Netflix, Sonic burgers, and my extreme addiction to Dr. Pepper, I launched up to 220lbs without passing GO or collecting $200. Then, the doctor told me I was pre-diabetic...and reminded me that I have a family history of heart disease...and told me I was fat. (Seriously-see previous posts). He's right.  I let myself go.


Fatty McMuncherson

July 18 of this year I turned 40.  I didn't experience any of the dread, or mid-life crisis stuff that one hears so much about. That is, I didn't think about it until I saw this picture. Note the glazed-over look as I try to cram an entire ice cream cone into my cavernous, gaping maw.The Dark Side had won! I had been brainwashed and was suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. I was DEFENDING my decisions to eat like a pot-smoker in a Cheetos factory. The justification I gave myself for eating that ice cream cone like a junkie on crack was that it was my birthday. On my birthday I do what I want. But there was always a justification for eating like my heart would never get sick, like my pancreas would never burn itself in protest, and my liver would be 21 forever. Deep, deep down there was a hidden justification. In my heart I believed I didn't deserve any better. I believed that if I was going to feel worthless, I might as well eat what I wanted to. My lovely layer of fat insulated me and made me feel warm (hot actually-like Satan's Lair), and the food it took to keep me fat made me feel comforted. You didn't expect that turn to the serious, dear reader?  Neither did I, but I'm realizing I've made light of a serious issue for too long. It's can be both healing and lazy to find humor in all situations, when in reality there comes a time to face the painful parts of life. My coping mechanism has always been to turn things into a joke-my health is no joke. I need to face it and the issues behind it head on. So, I started by examining my relationships.

On July 21 I broke up with Dr. Pepper. He was a total dick anyway and just made me feel bad about myself. He was totally passive/agressive.  I ate salads. I walked around the block every day. I lost 20lbs.  I felt better. My knees didn't ache as much and my back felt better. Then, in my triumph over losing 20 lbs, I didn't do anything else. I rested on my laurels and my laurels grew soft and pudgy. My partner had to be on-board with this too. She has her own path to trudge, and her own method of trudging it. We agreed to work really hard at getting healthy. We had our "last meal" of unhealthy goodness from McDonalds.  Then a week later we had it again at McMenamins, and later at Red Robin, then Taco Bell, then Papa Murphys, then Jack-in-the-Box....and so on. We were on an endless merry-go-round of good intent and piss-poor action, and encouraging each other all the way.

So, now I'm sick and dizzy and want off the "I'm starting tomorrow" ride. I've decided to use my creativity and friend-base to help me climb this mountain.  Here is my plan.  I have approximately 50 bandanas.  Yes, that is a ridiculous amount, but I don't make fun of your issues, do I?  So, in order to make awesome use of my bandana stack, I am embarking on the 50 BANDANAS TO FIT campaign. Here are the 10 commandments:


Bandana 1

 1. I will run or walk 3 days a week.
2. Separately, I will visit the gym 3 times a week.
3. I will have a bandana on my person for all of these instances. (hair, pocket, wrist, over my eyes depending on the workout).  :)
4. I will follow the menu plan laid out for my by the lovely Doctor B.
5. I will not step on the scale until I've worn 50 bandanas.
6. At the end of 50 bandanas, I will start the bandana pile over. And over, and over.
7. I will wash the bandanas.
8. I will post here about my progress at least 2 times a week. (I will also take a picture of every bandana day).
9. I will remember that I am human.
10. I will phone-a-friend as much as possible for togetherness bandana-ing.

 Based on the 10 commandments, at 6 bandanas/week, I should be doing my first Bandana weigh-in/fitness assessment around April 10th. Currently, I am 210 lbs (yes-I my laurels gained 10lbs).

I am now embarking on my first Bandana jog/waddle/walk/crawl.  It will only be around the block, but we all have to focus on the little things to make the great things happen, right.  (And our blocks are country blocks, not city blocks, BTW).

Day 1.  I'm a little sideways.

 I ask you, dear reader, to encourage me as I rake my shit back together into one pile and keep it there.  Join me if you wish. I'd love to have a bandana community.  Wear the same bandana 50 times!!  Make work-out wear out of banadanas-whatever it takes to leave the Dark Side behind. They can keep their effing cookies!  :)