Running shoes worn in the last Boston marathon were used to create this image. Learn more on how this image was created at: Boston Magazine.
5:50 am. I’m off. 100-year old men running marathons and I’ve been filling the couch. Now there’s inspiration.
45F according to Weather Channel. Walk outside. Feels like 60F. Strip off running jacket. Fat man goin’ to fly.
Feeling HEAVY. Thanks to my enabler friend Lori. She sent a can’t miss recipe after last week’s Spaghetti Bolognese post. Zeke (dog) and I were sniffing around like crack addicts for 10 hours while the bolognese simmered in the slow cooker…with the aroma from the meat sauce oozing into every pore of the house. When the 6pm dinner bell rang, I was at the table with fork, salt shaker, large plate. Salad? NO. Bread? NO. Vegetables? NO. Keep all distractions out of the way. I told Zeke to stand back, I needed room to feed. Four plates later (at least I stopped counting at 4), I was licking my plate…and telling myself, maybe it’s time to stop. Bliss. Peace. 10 years from today, new FDA research will find that eating Spaghetti Bolognese extends life. And you’re going to think back and say that crazy man was right. You read it here first.
Back to the run. So, here we are. The day after. A DIRIGIBLE. LARGE AND BLOATED. On the road again trying to knock out some lbs. 100-year old running man drifting in an out. I’m half his age and can’t get the pistons firing. Wonder if he lied about his age. (That’s not nice. But something seems off. He looks better than 100. Hell, he looks better than I do.)
On February 23, 2013, 101 year-old Fauja Singh finished the Hong Kong 10km (6.25 mile) event in one hour, 32 minutes and 28 seconds. (That’s it! I’m going to kick his a** today. I’m sick of being embarrassed by 100 year old men. It’s sad. Really it is.) [Read more...]
6 am. I’m off. No slackin’ today.
32F. Feels like 27F according to Weather Channel.
Snarky Man is on the move.
Black wind breaker. Blue sweat pants. Red shoes. Black Chargers Tuk.
(How do you spell C-L-A-S-H?)
Reach for draw string to synch up sweats. Only find one end. The other end is buried in hole about an inch back. Are you kidding me? Paused for 1 second – - no chance I’m going back to change. Veer way wide of the Man today. He going gangster. Let his sweatpants hang off his a**.
It all started yesterday. 3 am.
Morning ritual of stepping on the scale. Followed by Morning Delusion. LED flashing. Flashing. Flashing. (Think 10 pm on Christmas Eve as a Child .)
And then BAM.
Followed by SHOCK.
The scale reports a new 5-year high.
“Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are.” — Augustine of Hippo
I don’t know who Mr. Augustine is. But I’m looking like a Hippo. I have one daughter and not two. And her name is Anger.
I get off the scale. Inhale. Exhale.
Technology! Has to be that I jumped on the scale too quickly. It didn’t find its equilibrium. It needs to set itself.
I gently step back on. (Like, if I treat it more kindly, I might get a better outcome.)
Flashing. Flashing. Flashing. Flashing. Flashing.
Enough. We enter Day 1 of my new weight reduction program.
And as I reach Post Road on my run this morning, I recall my first day…
I’m off. 35F. Feeling good.
It’s the day after Good Friday.
The title of LaDona’s post banging around in my head like a 50 Cent Rap song – - the tricked up Chevy heaving up and down to the beat:
This Place Was Made By God.
This Place Was Made By God.
This Place Was Made By God.
I look around. Trees reflecting on the still waters of the Long Island Sound. Sun’s up in its full magnificence. Sky is a brilliant blue. Who else could have made this?
She goes on. This place was made by God, a priceless sacrament; it is without reproach.
(She’s so d*mn sure.)
And on. The most sacred day in the Christian calendar, and indeed, in Christianity itself. Inspiration for stunning, poignant music across the centuries. Even if you don’t believe, or if you do and God seems far away, the music speaks. And touches. And heals.
(I’m right there with you Sister on the far away part. And right there with you that the music speaks, touches and heals)
Then the mind, faster than a switchback on a BC mountain highway, turns to a conversation with a colleague on Thursday: [Read more...]
Leo Babauta at Zenhabits asked his one million followers for tips on “how they formed exercise habits and made it stick.” What works for me? (When it works.) Four strategies:
- GET YOUR WORK-OUT GEAR TOGETHER. Do it the night before. Make it easy to grab it and go. Save yourself the agony of the rationalizing self-talk: I’ll do it later. It’s too cold. It’s too hot. I’m tired. Let me check my emails and then go. Or worse, Oh, just forgettabout it.
- DO IT EARLY. Period. Or it doesn’t get done.
- GET STARTED. Take the first step. Walk out the door. Step on treadmill. Put on your shoes. Once engaged, I get propelled by the Zeigarnik Effect, the need to complete the task.
- RECORD RESULTS. You are what you measure. I record my weight and my work-out (dates, results) in a spreadsheet on Google Drive. Then, when I look at it and find gaps (e.g., No workouts for days. Shocking Weight Gain.), I find myself shamed into re-firing the engines. This works.
I share exercise inspirations on Saturday mornings to get me off the couch and out the door. This share by Steve Layman may be the most powerful story and research that I’ve read on this topic. A few excerpts…
The story starts with a Phil Bruno “super-sizing again…He was only a mile from his house, where his wife, Susan, was cooking the usual big Italian dinner for their family of five, but he was hungry now. The urge was automatic…Ten minutes later, with a bag of burgers steaming on the seat beside him, he pulled into a McDonald’s and ordered a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, an apple pie, and a chocolate shake to wash it all down…Phil had always loved food, which was part of the fabric of his tight-knit Sicilian-American family: Grandma and her lasagna were right down the street. But he’d been athletic in his youth, playing high school football and carrying a robust but reasonable 215 pounds on a six-foot-three-inch frame. Then, in his mid-twenties, he’d stopped working out, as many of us do when life starts to chew up our time. Over the years, his regular meals and high-calorie bingeing had turned him into a physical and emotional wreck. His joints ached whenever he used the stairs, his heart hammered, and he was possessed by a strange, burning thirst that no amount of ice water could quench. “I was 47 years old,” he says, “but I felt like I was 80.” [Read more...]
Late (LATE) start. Galileo’s Sun is up. I look up and bask in its warmth. I start my run into a cold headwind. Fingertips tingling. My eyes, fill with water. Like mist on cold air over warm waters. This will clear.
Run by the corner of Noroton and Post Roads. Church Corner. Ascension Episcopal. Noroton Presbyterian. Christ Scientist. Churchgoers are filing in. Man cradling baby in a papoose. Families striding briskly, holding hands with their children. Lady holding kerchief in place from wind gusts. Elderly couple shifts right to let me pass. Community. Peace be with you too.
I usually run too early to see churchgoers. Not today. Guilt washes over me. Eric joined his friends in attending a eulogy yesterday. “Weird,” he described it. “Awkward not having been to church in years.” He lights my fuse using less than 10 words. Jung scolds: “Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.” Then Robert Fulghum piles on: “Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you.” How quickly this has escalated. Yes, “my” Son – - he’s been watching. And now I’m irritated, here on Galileo’s beautiful Sunday. NO, gentlemen. Not today. You won’t get under my skin today. No sir.
…after I stepped on the scale and saw the damage.
Late start. (LATE) Aspirational intentions at 5:23 a.m. not converted into action until late morning. Chopping through a mountain of Emails. Tumbling. Reading. Cat videos. (How many of these can I watch?) Find myself in workmanlike mode. Stress notched up a few clicks. And racing again – like mid-day on a workday treadmill at the office.
And then, I come across Terry’s post and Yellow lights are flashing…
I’m in a hurry to get things done
Oh I rush and rush until life’s no fun
All I really gotta do is live and die
But I’m in a hurry and don’t know why
~Alabama, I’m in a hurry
Oddly enough, my immediate concern is not why I am in such a rush on a Saturday morning. But, synchronicity. Why is Country Music around every turn. (Now Country music, this is something to be concerned about. Then the mind goes back to HURRY. What’s the Rush?) [Read more...]
Here’s my Wolf Pack. Our Zeke on the left. Anya, the neighbor’s dog on the right. Zeke, a pure bred Hungarian bird hunting Vizsla. Anya, a rescue mix with herding in her DNA.
Zeke was acquired five years ago for hundreds (many) of dollars. (The King’s list of demands in dog selection included a sporting/running breed. It didn’t include acquiring someone else’s problems.) Anya was acquired from a shelter with no cash outlay. (*Hold this thought on dog profile differences.)
Trail running (and all running outside) has largely been suspended this winter season. Weekend exercise has taken the form of intermittent stabs on the elliptical machine in the attic…remote control in the right cup holder and water bottle in the left. Air temperature constant at 67F. No snow. No slush. No uneven surfaces. (And No Running Posts. Zero inspiration running on an elliptical.)
Weather warming this weekend. It was time to GET OUTSIDE. So, I prep. Ugg’s on. Strap Garmin on wrist. Grab iPhone. Earphones. Doggie treats. Two Dog leashes. Dog tags. Poop bags. Car keys. And stuff it all into a fanny pack. (Black manly style fanny pack.) Put on down coat. Pull on hat. (38F. Hat not needed but run will be arduous. No need to display thinning/receding and matted hair.) Jam running gloves in pocket. Grab Driver’s license and wallet and head out the door. (With the exception of dry food, ropes, crampons and ice axes, I’d be ready for climb up McKinley. Heavy load for a trail run in snow. Pulse quickens and I haven’t even left the car.) [Read more...]
This clip was something special.
+ Chamonix, France.
+ Fresh and deep powder. “Peaceful easy feeling” here.
+ Unbelievable camera work. Spectacular mountainscape and sun shots.
+ Hypnotic music and vocals. Tune titled “Lofticries” by Montreal band Purity Ring.
Stick with this to the end. Wonderful clip for our Saturday morning work-out inspiration.
“The risk of hospitalization or death from heart disease is 32% lower in vegetarians than people who eat meat and fish, according to a new study from the University of Oxford.
Heart disease is the single largest cause of death in developed countries…The new findings, published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, suggest that a vegetarian diet could significantly reduce people’s risk of heart disease…This is the largest study ever conducted in the UK comparing rates of heart disease between vegetarians and non-vegetarians. The analysis looked at almost 45,000 volunteers from England and Scotland…of whom 34% were vegetarian. Such a significant representation of vegetarians is rare in studies of this type, and allowed researchers to make more precise estimates of the relative risks between the two groups.”
Source: University of Oxford
- I find myself, probably like many of you, spending way too much time in front of my computer.
- As we work, we sit more than we do anything else. We’re averaging 9.3 hours a day, compared to 7.7 hours of sleeping.
- Sitting is so prevalent and so pervasive that we don’t even question how much we’re doing it. I’ve come to see that sitting is the smoking of our generation. [Read more...]
Source: Thank you headlikeanorange
It all started at around 8pm last night. Susan asked: “Do you really need that?“…this in response to my complaining earlier in the day about hitting new record highs for weight gain. And after my 4th trip to the fridge since dinner time. The “that” was a peanut butter (Jiffy Creamy) and blueberry jelly sandwich. Yes, I needed it. Badly. And I didn’t need someone, anyone, scolding me. (Am I a child?) I continued lapping the peanut butter on the bread – jabbing the knife into the jar – spreading on a few extra layers. I don’t lift my head. She continues on from the other side of the room. ”You know, you should read this book on life style changes in what you eat. You can lose weight by just eating healthier. You are not getting enough proteins. This is causing you to crave potato chips, sugars and salty foods.” Blueberry jam dribbles out of the corner of my mouth. I look up. Fat man’s blood pressure building…readying himself for counterpunching. I glance up and glare. She continues: “You know that I’m just trying to help.” I take the last remaining bite and jam dribbles down my shirt…well doesn’t that about capture it. Enough! My turn…trade a boulder for a pebble. ”I don’t need to read a bloody book to tell me that I eat junk and too much of it. And I certainly don’t need you haranguing me about it.” Now, if I had just stopped there. Trade the ocean for a drop of water. ”So tell me. If this book is so good. How’s it working out for you?” Nearing 30 years of marriage you know exactly where the nerve endings are and where to jab. Yep, direct hit. Then regret washes over me. But not enough to apologize. She knows I didn’t really mean it. Right. [Read more...]
The stone walkway may be 2.5 feet at its narrowest point. The shore line is 7-8 feet down from the walkway. It’s narrow, it is a ways down and I’m always wary. I must have been daydreaming. Or better stated, distracted by day-work-worrying.
I’m on my morning run.
My right forearm slams into the end of the steel I-beam guard rail. Here it comes. A car crash in slow motion. A Bruce Lee flick. With much less grace. The I-beam doesn’t move. But it moves me. It spins me around. Full Stop. Drop. Roll. Air explodes out of my chest. I’m gasping for air. More stunned than hurt. I’m down flat on my back for a few seconds, grateful that I didn’t plunge into the mud and frigid waters in the bay. I look around to see if anyone caught the show. No one is yelling “Man Down. Man Down.” We’re clear. Pride intact. [Read more...]
6:15 am. I finish up my blog posts. Finish bantering with Mimi. I pan through the Weather app on my iPhone for a temperature report on my set locations: Miami 61 F/78 F. Sunny. Sydney 67/81. San Diego 54/65. Home: 29 F/41 F. (Brrrrrrr. I shiver. Do I really want to do this? Maybe I should wait until later this afternoon when temps climb. Come on. Who are you kidding? If it doesn’t happen RIGHT NOW, it’s not going to happen pal…you know that.)
6:20 am: I put on sweatpants, sweatshirt and grab baseball cap. (Mind is chattering… should I drape myself in layers…thermal underwear and thermal undershirt…and Tuke/Beanie. Are you kidding? A mere 29°. A Canadian, last time I checked. Man-up.)
6:24 am: Grab headphones, iPhone and Garmin GPS watch. (Notice that I have 1 bar of power left on Garmin and 2 bars on iPhone. Irritated. Irritating. Hundreds of dollars of e-equipment and they can’t hold a charge for more than a few hours. Yep, good one - Gadget Man is blaming battery life. Be grateful. Thanksgiving. Day of Sabbath. And I’m sniping.) [Read more...]
“Eating Season (Nov 5th to Jan 1): My Holiday Preemptive Diet Plan vs. Probable Reality” [Read more...]
#3: My job takes my time and energy. #4: I’m too tired. #14: The weather sucks. #15: I AM NOT MOTIVATED. There we go. They are on the table. My excuses not to exercise (again). Leo Babauta @ Zen Habits wrote a recent post titled 15 Great Excuses Not to Form the Fitness Habit that has lingered with me. He lists 15 excuses that have blocked him from exercise – along with his “excuse blasters.” And of course, I’ve added my commentary… [Read more...]
4:05 am. And STILL, no cable, no phones, no internet.(Morning routine disrupted. Motivation waning. Out of bed. But out of sync. Ranging somewhere between live fish in boat flopping around the deck to full Train derailment.)
4:07 am. Begin surfing internet on iPad. (Wondered what I used to do at 4am in the “old days.” B.I. Before internet. I don’t even remember. Ah, yes. I used to read. Like books. Real Reading has plummeted. Guilt washes over me.)
4:15 am. Still reading and surfing. Mostly surfing. (Mind shifts to AT&T 3g – confident that their gouge meter is running. I’m watching cute cat and dog videos while AT&T is performing alchemy – turning my minutes into cash.)
4:22 am. I hit publish on my work-out inspiration post. I look out the window. Black as coal. Touch window. Feels cold on finger tips. (Shut-er-down. Enough alchemy feed stock for AT&T. Mind shifts to Running in the cold and in the dark. Hmmmmm. I grab my Grandma’s hand-knitted quilt and fall heavily into the couch. Now, there’s inspiration for you.)
7:00 am. Conscience wakes me. I need to exercise NOW or this will never happen. (Mr. Work-Out Inspiration Man needs inspiration.)
One of my followers had asked why there haven’t been any running posts for weeks. Simple question. Simple answer. Because I haven’t been running. Hurt? No. Ill? No. Bad Weather? Of course not. Pathetically lazy? Yes. So, we’re off this morning to break this 30-day streak of nothing. For those of you that are new to my running regime, it is 10% physical and 90% mental. So, I play word association games to keep it going.
So, what was rolling through my mind during my run…
Summer vacation. How long ago it was. (Caribbean vs. Paris and they take Caribbean. WHERE IS THE COMMON SENSE HERE? The King Loses (Again) - and again and again. Mimi has gone more than 25x. Me. Zero.)
Thanksgiving is coming. Turkey. Mashed potatoes. Gravy. Pumpkin pie. (I can feel my energy draining. Tryptophan made a leap from my mind into my body. I yawn.)
Stuffing. Glazed carrots. Whipped cream. Apple Pie. (I’m practically walking now.)
Leftovers. Turkey sandwiches. More pie. Heaping scoops of ice cream. (I stop. I need to re-group. What sort of mind discipline plan are you working on here pal? I take a few deep breaths. And, I start running again. Let’s try a different mental path)
Paris. The Louvre. The Eiffel Tower. The Grand Palais. Palais Garnier. Cobblestones. History. (OK, now that’s better. Keep it rollin’)
Quiche. Baguettes. French Onion Soup. Cheese. (OMG. This is going down hill fast. 911. 911. 911.)
Croque Monsieur, Crepes, thin crust butter pastries, Chocolate Croissants, (Free fall now. I have to stop again. I walk for 1/4 mile. My trusty GPS says that I’ve run 2.1 miles. No, that’s a stretch to call it a run. Let’s call is a walk-run. Yes, that’s better. I need a different mind-word game to get me back in gear. What comes to mind? Where in the world have you run and what comes to mind when you think of the city? Here we go…) [Read more...]
This is the normal day and time for some form of Saturday Morning Work-out inspiration. And, that is exactly what we have here but bigger – for your mind, your body and your spirit. Whether you bike or don’t bike or don’t care about biking, this clip is flat out inspirational. Mother Earth in Northern Italy at “King Ortler” with its breathtaking scenery. Incredible cinematography. Beautiful music. LOVED IT.
- Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration: “Move”
- The Beauty of the Irrational
- Work-Out Inspiration: For Those Who Suffer, We Ride…
- Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration: One Minute For All-Black’s…
- Saturday Morning Work-Out Inspiration: One Minute For “Unstoppable”
- Saturday Morning Work Out Inspiration: What is Strong?
“Move” was shot in Victoria, British Columbia, my home province.
- Saturday Morning Workout Inspiration
- Saturday Morning Workout Inspiration
- Picture is worth…
- Work-Out Inspiration: 4 Pictures worth > 1000 words
- I’m bringing sexy back…(Workout inspiration!)
- Work-Out Inspiration: The Relay
- Work-Out Inspiration: Run with Usain Bolt & Tyson Gay
- The Beauty of the Irrational
No Almonds. No Butterfingers. No Caramel. No Cookie pieces. No Chocolate chips. No Chocolate sauce. No Heath Bar crunch. No Gummy Bears. No Hot Fudge. No marshmallow. No fudge. No Reese’s Peanut Butter pieces. No walnuts. No strawberry. NEED. IT. RIGHT. NOW. No chasers. Straight up….