My Weight Loss Goal

A friend - yes I do have friends - is a fitness fanatic. Like me, he's a former Chippendale. He has been encouraging me for years to make more healthy choices.

I have always found it relatively easy to lose weight, once I get started. I have never been successful in keeping it off. My weight just goes up and down like a yo yo, which is more unhealthy than just being fat.

Anyway, he texted me most recently to ask, in cell phone language, "what's ur goal?"

I plan to become invisible.

Two things persuaded me to start again. First, fellow fat man Frank Pintabone challenged me. Second, and the big reason, is Suki.

Suki is a girl but she's not human. She's my grandson's dog, although she thinks she's human.

I watched her for a few days over the summer. When I have her, she knows she is going to go for lots of walks. But this past summer, I could only go about ten minutes before having to sit down. At one point, she turned and looked at me with utter disgust.

"How could you let yourself go, you fat fuck?" she said to me in dog language.

She refused to eat anything I got her, in protest over my inability to keep up with her.

"I bet you feel a lot better!" is what people say to me now.

I do when I'm done exercising for the day.

I am still unable to walk or run as I used to do all the time. I am fine for a few weeks, and then sciatica grounds me. But the arc trainer at the gym is great. Aside from having a sore ass, I am doing alright. But I miss being outside. Whether it's hot or cold, I love being outdoors. In the gym, you have to contend with people who insist in slamming weights so everyone knows how strong they are, as well as some people who are really loud.

The other day, some woman was literally shouting and yelling the entire time I spent exercising. All five minutes. It was so annoying that, when I was done, I decided to track her down and let her know that all I want from her is silence, and damn little of that.

I found her pretty easily, as you might imagine, and then realized she is mentally challenged.

I'm an asshole.

So as I said, my goal is to disappear.

Getting Healthy is Making Me Sick

In the beginning weeks of July, I discovered I was in terrible shape when I did some dog-sitting. I could barely go 20 minutes without collapsing. Suki, my grandson's dog, would periodically stop and look at me with what looked like utter disgust. Perhaps it was pity. Well, no five-pound Jack-a-poo is going to defeat me. So I began walking every day. Sometimes twice. After a few weeks, I began to reduce my food intake, too, although I refuse to give up the French fries at the courthouse. I've lost a few ounces along the way, but I have to wonder whether getting healthy is making me sick.

About a week into my new routine, I developed a terrible summer cold with a cough that lingered a month.

Then I decided to get new shoes, but ordered the wrong size, and wore them for two days before I realized it. My sciatica flared up, and that took about two weeks to go away.

Since Apple Cider Vinegar is all the rage, I began taking that, too. Last week, I had a most unpleasant experience on the way home from the courthouse. I suddenly began pouring sweat and realized I'd never make it home. I stopped at Sheetz. I will spare you the details, but the store is being renamed to Shitz.

I had rice pudding earlier that day, and I think the Apple cider vinegar hated it. Dairy and I never were friendly.

On Friday, in the middle of a 3.5 mile walk, I decided to jog 0.1 mile intervals. Only four of them. Very slow. On Saturday, I woke up in agony. Sciatica again.

Oh yeah, my blood pressure has gone up. Higher now than when I started.

So if you don't mind, I'm going to bed early tonight.

The Death of Caballo Blanco

The Tarahumarans called him Caballo Blanco, White Horse, in honor of the imitations this ultra-runner did for their children. His real name was Micah True.

He developed this goofy notion from his Native American teachers that running should be fun.

When you see runners go by in brightly colored, light-weight shoes, or those shoes with toes, that's White Horse. From the Tarahumarans, the best long distance human runners, True learned the notion of minimalist running.

Lightweight shoes or none at all!

Shoe companies are making gazillions off that idea, but Caballo Blanco just ran.

I try running shoeless sometimes, but still prefer my Brooks' Addictions. They weigh 2 pounds each. And that's without the orthotics!

True died last week, in the middle of a 12-mile run in New Mexico. He had stopped to dip his feet into a stream, and quietly passed away.

It took four days to find his body.

He died doing what he loved.

There's a nice story about this spiritual runner in Boulder Weekly.

My Spirit Animal

I'm taking a break from the usual politics on this blog. If there was any doubt in your mind about my sanity, I'm about to erase it completely with this question:  Do you have a spirit animal?

I do.

Honest! I'm by no means a spiritual or religious person, but there is an animal that really does look out for me. Is it the fierce falcon, who strikes at blinding speeds from above? The lone wolf, whose mere appearance strikes fear?

Nah.

I'm a goose.

Geese and I have lots in common. We're both slobs, bird brains, talk a lot, and weigh more than we should. We also both have among the worst-looking bowel movements in the Animal Kingdom. We both wear out our welcomes pretty quickly. When we finally get going, we're pretty slow. But we both can go forever.

None of these similarities is what makes me a goose. This is where you might want to call the happy wagon. .

I first realized it many years ago, while running in a 4-mile race. I had just passed some guy, but could feel and hear him behind me, hot on my tail, with a half-mile to go. And I was beginning to fade. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a gaggle of geese flew overhead, honking away. For some reason, I dug down and was able to beat this guy, even though he was really the better runner.

Ever since that day, geese often appear when I'm out on a run, especially when I begin to fade. Last week, for example, I was nearing the end of my first 9-mile run in may years, and was really getting tired. I was thinking of stopping and just walking the final half mile, when three geese appeared out of nowhere, and for the first time during my entire run. I forgot all about being tired.

It happens to me all the time.

Naturally, I'd prefer to be an Eagle or a Falcon. Sounds more impressive, although a goose is a step up from buzzard.  From what I've read, a spirit or power animal is kinda' like a guardian angel or patron saint, and is supposed to guide you when you're in trouble. So maybe my guardian angel is a frickin' goose.

Or not. Today I run 10 miles.

If you'd like to discover your spirit animal, take this quiz.

Updated 1 PM: Just finished running 10.2 miles in a blinding speed of 2 hours. The first mile is very difficult, straight uphill. I was considering calling it quits and trying again later, and there they were - my spirit animals. Fortunately, none of them shit on me.

I'm No Longer O'Beast

According to health experts, if your body mass index (BMI) is 30 or higher, you're obese. That would be me.

But I'm happy to report that, after seven months, I am no longer o'beast. My BMI has finally dipped under 30, so now I'm only fat.

I've knocked off a few tons, mostly as a result of diet and exercise.

I had forgotten how much I love to walk, run and bike. When I'm done, I love to find some quiet corner of grass and just lie on my back, arms outstretched, looking at the clouds, for a minute or two. I totally zen out when I do that, but it still scares the hell out of people. More than once, someone has walked up to me from out of nowhere and asked, "Are you OK? Shall I call 911?"

I guess it's not every day they see a beached whale.

Is It Safe For a Woman to Walk or Run a Trail Alone?

A woman was sexually assaulted Saturday afternoon along the Lehigh Canal towpath. She was alone. It's hard enough to work up the motivation to get out on a trail or bike path, but it seems that women need to consider this unpleasant possibility as well. It certainly would be safer to avoid running or walking on trails alone, but staying off of them completely just lets the bad guy win.

Yesterday afternoon, along the lonely but inviting Nor-Bath trail, at least half of the people I saw were solo women who seemed as happy as I was to be out there. Here are some pointers from a Runners World forum.

* My husband always knows what route I will take and how long I will be gone.

* My husband is the only one who knows what route I will take.

* If I have a big enough pocket, I carry my cell phone with the GPS turned on. This allows my location to be easily tracked if the authorities have to be called.

* I have taken self-defense and carry pepper spray.

* I never run the same route two nights in a row or the same night of the week two weeks in a row.

* I like to run on the nearby college campus. It is well lit and has those emergency phones with the flashing lights.

* Running loops seems like a bad idea. You are more likely to be attacked by some neighbor who has a weird fascination with you than by a random stranger. The loops set up a pattern which makes it easier for a stalker.

Should a woman just give up and say she is too fragile? I say she should act like a man, damn it!

I Really Am Full of Shit

Back in the day, when I was a highly-conditioned, well-trained, athlete, I still had a big problem. I could never digest milk or cheese. Although I love them both, especially ice cream, I was lactose intolerant. If I ate ice cream or cheese, or had milk in my cereal, I was condemning myself to several very unpleasant hours on the toilet.

When I stopped exercising, however, all that changed. I was finally able to drink a Vanilla milkshake with no sudden side effects. I could eat bon bons with reckless abandon. I could even spread all kinds of cheese over sandwiches.

I've been exercising again - mostly walking - since early this Summer. And I've had no problem with yogurt or cheese or milk ... until tonight. And it came at a bad time.

Around 6 PM, I stopped at Giant for dinner - a salad and 1/4 lb. of cheddar cheese. From there, it was off to Bethlehem Township for the bi-weekly Board of Commissioners' meeting. About ten minutes into the meeting, I had a sudden urge to use the toilet. No sooner had I done that and returned to my seat, than I had to go again.

And again.

And again.

After a quick ride home, my first stop was my bathroom. No sooner had I sat down at the computer than I had to go again.

And again.

And again.

On top of that, I broke out in hives.

I guess this is a sign I must be getting back in shape. To my many detractors, who claim I'm full of shit, you're so right.

I'm in no condition to write about what happened in Bethlehem Township tonight, so you'll have to wait until later today or tomorrow.

If you need me, knock on the can.