Running. And Chafing.

weight loss, diet, exercise, health, eat, craving, running, run, walk, walking, chart

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...]

Still Standing.

The Cove, Stamford, CT

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...]

Running. With Nature.

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...]

Running. With a bad jet.

Homer Simpson6:15am.  77°F and 89% relative humidity.  I walk out the door and air is thick and soupy. (Hmmmm.  Maybe this sauna will accelerate the decomposition of the Oreo cookie intake yesterday. Count: 16. Yep.  Strapped on the feedbag and ravenously wolfed ‘em down. But lets be balanced here. This was spread over lunch and dinner – not so bad when looking at it this way – a modest amount actually.  I don’t think this even adds up to a full row.)

0.5 miles: I feel a pinch in my right knee.  The pinch advances to bite.  I grimace. (D*mn weekend warrior. I slow the pace but don’t stop.  “Run through it.” I recall the 2007 NY Times article – ‘We want you to keep moving…injured tissue heals quicker if it’s under stress…moderate exercise aids the healing.’ 5 year old article and its stuck with me.)

1 mile: It’s not going away. Limp-running now.  Slow pace further. (So, where’s the d*mn moderate exercise will heal part.  Healing can show up anytime now. I’m almost walking know.  Sweat is raining down…and tastes a bit creamy. (Oreos?)  You would think this humidity would be lubing my knee. Odd, my right shoulder is stiff now.  Oh, yea.  Re-started my push-up routine yesterday.  Man, my entire carriage is coming apart!  Another 1/2 mile and we’ll need to call 911.  As long as I don’t keel over into all of this Goose dung and avoid rolling into the cove…I should be ok.)

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Running…with red eyes.

3:30am.  And up.  (Nothing wide-eyed and bushy tailed here.  You have a problem pal.)

Posted my work-inspiration video.  (Was inspired.  For about 3 minutes.  A** firmly planted in chair.  Motivation rating: 1.5 on scale of 10.  Darkness rolls in.  I’m sorry.  That’s disingenuous.  My a** is hanging so low, you can’t see where my a** starts and the floor begins.)

Slash through 50 emails. (Tension climbing with the disposition of each mail.  Look down at meter count.  126 left.  Standing in ocean.  Neck deep.  Taking in water with each wave.  Gagging on the salt water.)

She left the office yesterday after lunch.  A colleague.  Her water broke.  Six weeks early.  No word.  (Damn it, CALL!)

I shut down the email train.  (Rationalizing again.  Maybe I’ll run later.  Nothing in the tank this morning.)

Little red light blinking on Blackberry. (Devil’s tool that little red light.  Blinking.  Blinking incessantly.  It’s not even a pretty red color. Maybe it’s T.  No.  No, it’s not.)

It’s an email from a former colleague.  He’s now in London with his family.  (I haven’t spoken to Steve in a very long time.  What an amazing person and talent he is.  Had no idea he was even following my blog.  Dark clouds fall away.  Mood shifts.  Amazing what a few kind words will do to my psyche.)

“Dave, I hope this note finds you well…Now, I read an article in one of our leading newspapers and felt inspired, when I feel inspired I think of your blog. It’s not the most obvious article that may be worthy of landing on your blog but I thought I would share it just in case you thought your friends would relate to it. As a Dad, it struck a chord with me. Hope you are doing well, and the family is good…..take care……Steve.”

I start panning down the article.  I finish the article.  I’m rubbing tears from my eyes.  I put on my running gear and head out the door.

“It’s not the most obvious article that may be worthy of landing of your blog.”  (Right!)

The story consumed me the entire run. (“You will wish for terrible things; you will pray for your newborn baby to die — not just once, but a thousand times. Go with it, don’t judge yourself, and the storm will pass.”).

If you read nothing else today, take a moment to read the story below.

Running Time this morning? 39 seconds ahead of last Sunday’s pace.  A new personal best.  Steve, I owe to it you for bringing the light back.  Thank you.

Enjoy your Saturday.  That is, after reading the story below.


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It’s all coming my way…

I’m off and running. (Tipped the scales at new 12-month record.  Quite a bingeing week. Proud of yourself Pal?  How far are you going to take this up?)

Humid morning, but not overly so for this time of the year.  (Yet, you are sweating profusely.  Ahhhhh, yes.  Thai food last night.  Equivalent of 1/8 lb intravenous injection of NaCl.  And yes, that accounts for the weight jump.  Water retention.  Wave of relief – weight gain should be erased by morning.  Will just slug back 3 quarts of water today.  And Voila – back to sleek, fighting weight.)

Endomondo says that I’m 1/2 mile and 4 minutes ahead of what Garmin is recording.  (Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  Third run in a row and Endomondo has been wildly encouraging.  And wildly wrong.  I retract my prior glowing review. Yellow lights are flashing on this app.  My trusty Garmin soldiers on.)

Two Miles.  Sweat continues to roll.  Rub my forehead with my forearm.  Taste the Thai food salt now.  (For as much as I’m secreting here, or is it excreting, I should bottle it like Worcestershire…)

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Lift your head up…

The Cove, Stamford, CTThis photo was taken on my run this morning.  Yes, I know, “Amateur hour” and completely unremarkable (borderline trash).  I took me a bit to post it as my mind raced to the incredible photographers that I follow and the word association games that I play to keep going…Bill Pevlor (Mother Earth)…Tracie Louise (Surreal)…David Wetzel (Photographer, Painter, Writer), Robert Santafede (Pause), Vicky Taylor-Hood (Home)…and many others I’ve neglected to mention.

Yet, this photo is remarkable to me in other ways. Here’s the journey on the run this morning.

I set Mr. Endomondo to the workout mode of “Beat Yourself” – competing against my time from last Sunday.  (Endomondo destroyed me yesterday by a whopping 3 minutes.  Heat.  Humidity.  Excuses.  Stack them up. I can’t use yesterday as a base line. That’d be cheating…)

I strap on my Garmin GPS.  (You just don’t know when you’ll need the back-up.)

5:42 am.  I hit the start/go buttons on my gadgets.  And down the road we go. (LaDona is training for a half marathon in Victoria, B.C.  The least I can do is get 5 miles in before the thermometer hits 90°F.)

I’m less than 1/2 mile out, and Endomondo tells me that I’m 16 minutes ahead of Friday’s pace.  (Argggghhhhhhhh.  I must have pressed the WRONG button.  BAD Endomondo!  Here’s exactly why you have a contingency plan.) 

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