On a good day, it's surprising that I don't have more callouses on my feet from dragging them so much. Took me forever to get my black belt, I'm still working on finishing my college degree, I was 40 when I finally decided to get married. So of course I waited until I'm approaching my mid-40's to have our first kid. And I want to tell you about it. Interested?
So, okay. I suck. Right? 6 months since my last post? What's up with thaaaaat? Well...I've had some...things...come up.
I probably should have blogged about this, but after 17 years I found I was at a loss for words. Also, after the test was over I found myself at a loss for breath. Because Old Dot Com.
Ok....black belt? Check...what else?
"And then the gays got married...and the seas boiled, and the sky fell, the dead rose from the...that didn't happen. Just a whole lot of blubbering from yours truly and his other BFF who never cries.
Whatever. My BFF was trying to steal our thunder. What else is new? Um...clever gif time...
That's right. As soon as that ring goes on, I disappear...Ladies...
Yasssssss, Gaga, yassssss... Postle the Younger, 2nd of his name, had an ring placed upon it.
"MY WIFE!!!"- ("I don't think anyone remembers the Borat reference"- My actual wife.)
September 12th, we done did it. In 11 years of blaugging I hadn't clue one this was ever going to be in store for me, but life's little surprises are what makes it fun. Gorgeous day. Surrounded by friends and family. Couldn't have asked for a better day. Or exhausting. I've learned a few things- 1) is that the 8 months between the proposal and actual day flew by incredibly fast. 2) MORE people seemed to care about THIS life event than my BIRTHDAY (I'll find them. All of them) and lastly 3) Next to moving from one place to another without actual movers, childbirth, and watching more than 2 minutes of Fox News with the sound off...it was really tiresome. You think all lah-de-dah honeymoon is going to be HOT, when we actually slept through 60% of it. Hashtag necessary. And I came back home only to turn around and abandon my wife for an overdue work trip.
So now, it's all key parties and pot pies (the former is a joke that I know will/has worn out faster than my joking that I'd like a threesome with an open-minded girlfriend for my birthday. I digress.)...but lest you think this isn't going to be about me, I did want to let you know the final tally (as of now) was about a total loss of bodyweight at around 30 lbs. Nothing to scoff at, but I'd been hoping to get down past Cruiserweight and to about Light-Heavyweight. There's still time. Pressure's off. However, by way of comparison and showing WHY exactly I was overweight and not fitting into any of my nice clothes...well...here's the tape:
Yeeeeeeah...I was busy with Fringe Festival or something in 2014...yeaaaaaah. Not visiting Chipotle for the umpteenth time or anything.
If you're wondering, a lot of that was walking. And no, I didn't watch a lot of TV or binge watch Netflix like I had hoped.
Neat? Oh, we wrote our own vows. I probably talked myself through 28 versions before hitting the deadline with our pastor, and even then I re-wrote it at the last minute:
Mikey’s Vows (9/12/2015)
Today, I marry my best friend.Wait.No I won’t.Because that’d mean
even though it’s currently legal in MN it’d be one of you guys, (Gesture to Adam, Steve, Ryan, and Ro) and I’m sorry
but you’d probably drive me crazy within 2 days or less.
Brevity isn’t my strong suit.So I’ll try and keep this brief- (You a-holes better laugh)
From when we first started dating, I think there was an
established frustration at what you probably thought was me dragging my feet.I know that I didn’t really do much to help to
alleviate that image- but the truth of the matter is that your deep well of
patience has led us here.To me, that’s
the most important.Because when you
have something seems that’s too good to be true, I would sometimes worry that
the other shoe will drop or that I need to hold on as tight as you I can so
that magic never leaves me.I stalled a
little.And it’s with that, that I’m
gonna make some quick promises to you:
-I promise your family that I will care for their firstborn,
their big sister, the granddaughter/niece and best friend(s) for now through
always. In good times, and not so great times. (Check to see if you made Amy or any of R's family cry)
-I promise you that I will treat you with the love,
sensitivity, loyalty, and respect I learned from my family and friends standing
up for me today. (Most of my relations won't be crying. We're not Amish, but c'mon. Emote. Don't leave me hanging up here.)
-I PROMISE that I’ll make mistakes.I’ll say the wrong thing. (I always do) I’ll leave the seat up. (Edit: SHE always does and I worry the cat'll fall in, but if you forget to say anything you won't regret it.) But I will always try and learn and remember to
be better for you the next time.
-I promise I won’t call Groucho “Your Cat” when his litter
box is full and I won’t get upset when you re-fold the laundry I had just
folded “correctly”. (Pause. Are they breathing? Is mom giving me the "hurry up" look yet?)
-I promise I’ll always try to do my best.(Too Boy-Scouty?)
Last big promise, Rachel Mary, and this is the easy
one- I promise to hold you up, to make you laugh almost every day and even
through your tears, and to love you as deeply as you have loved me: To the moon
and back- and from the bottom of my heart.
In the last six point five months, I've switched my position on going for walks on my breaks and lunches versus staying stationary for 8+ hours a day. I've stopped eating out/dining at buffets 2-3 x's a week and am eating fruits and veggies and keeping my calories down and counted via MyFitnesspal. I'm at karate and fighting 3-4 x's a week and on track to get my black belt in June. And I've recently (after my last weigh-in which...uh...didn't go so great.) started getting my running miles and resistance/weight work up again. (Seriously. After not having worked out my chest/back outside of push-ups for 6 months, I'm terrified at the lactic acid pain to come.)
Seriously. I haven't been on a bench since I rejoined my gym last October.
And so now I have a FitBit. The same device I had previously made fun of other friends (and my fiancée') about. (To my friends: "Have you ever wore it while having sex to count the steps/calories?" To my fiancée: "Can you wear it while we have sex to count the steps/calories?!"...hey. Everyone has their kinks.) Now, I am one of the unwashed smug masses with their rubbery wristbands with Cylon-like blinky light gauge.
My face, whenever people used to talk about Fit Bits, Power-walking, CrossFit, Kale, Organics, Mixed-Martial Arts, Fasting, etc etc...see where I'm going?
For those who don't know, basically the Fit Bit tracks your steps during the day. (So it's a pedometer? Yes. And no.) When you hit a "steps" landmark, a light blinks on. When you surpass 10,000 steps it buzzes. And...look, here's what's what: It holds you accountable. That's important.
Like I learned last Fall, sitting on your ass all day then going for a run isn't going to cut it in the long term. Why 10,000 steps? Well, scientifically that was an arbitrary figure. The CDC et.al recommends 7,000-8,000 of brisk walking (150 minutes of moderate aerobic activity a week) and the bottom line it's to make sure you don't remain sedentary for extended periods- which leads to circulatory/coronary issues. Gotta pump the bellows or the fire goes out, dig?
Ring my beeelllllllll...ring my bell.
"But Mikey? Doesn't your Iphone (prounced like "Hyphen") come with a built in device that does the same thing?" The app with the little heart? Well, what I've learned since my fiancée surprised me with the Bit is that it does measure steps, while I'm pretty sure the metrics measured on my phone is more in tune with stride. (I tried it jogging in place and pacing around my Kitchen/Dining/Living Room. The Fat Bat caught every step.) Anyway, I was all "I'm walking 5 miles a day at work!" and it's more like 3 plus change. And trust me, I make it a point to walk a lot.
Look, I've at least stopped posting ad nauseum about running and shit. I'm walking at work now, walking's cool.
It also gauges sleep (a fellow co-worker finds that to be horseshit, but based on the past few night's I've wore it to bed I'd probably agree) and the app/website let's you set weight loss goals, track activities, track food/calories...Look, I already ditched Dailymile so I think I'm sticking with MapMyRun to gauge activity and MyFitnessPal for my foods. So, all that being said...why did you feel like you were stuck? Wellllll...that's the last hurdle for buddies. See, I? I, am a man who drinks.
Without getting into the particulars that you already know, I've been saying it for months and I just need to chillax and do it. I'm gonna give up the booze for a minute. Meaning I'mma try going through the Summer without having my daily "pop". (I can drain a lot of pinot noir, kids. And with a bottle being over 400 calories? Yeah. Don't need it.) AND I have engagement pictures coming up and that'll just give me a puffy face. AND doctor visits. AND it helps you sleep better!
AND really? I won't beat myself up. It's Summer, and camp Awesome is where folks go to have fun. So, y'know, for those late Summer nights of skinny dipping? Hopefully there'll be a lot less of me to see. A lot. Less.
In short, Fit Bit. It's fun for buddies and makes you feel guilty for not moving your butt. Let's go streaking.
So I'm still hitting karate consistently. I've manage to table just about every extra curricular activity (shows, run training, etc.) in order to focus on obtaining my black belt this year. I've got my brown/black stripe, so next it's the Oreo belt (AKA candidate belt/Black Belt with white stripe) and then take the test. It's probably the most focused and consistent I've gone to karate since the late nineties/early-aughts when I was single, not doing a lot of theater, and young. Now I'm actually studying curriculum, doing the class requirements, and the one thing I was reminded of: I'm required to start fighting again on the regular.
As I said- once upon a time I would spar 2-3 x's a week. Brooklyn Center on Fridays, Bloomington on Wednesdays, Plymouth on Tuesdays. TGI Fridays or Applebees afterward. It was good times. I wasn't *good*, mind you. (That was big brother and the rest of the Nationally ranked "Icemen") But I was going and progressing and having a ball. Then...a bunch of stuff diminished that drive. And the dreaded family foot-drag befell me. There were some other reasons...
My involvement in theater and film was one. I was fortunate enough to get some well-paying gigs that I couldn't say "no" to. Like the above picture, occasionally I'm able to blend those worlds together. (Sheeeeit. Time was I thought the only show I'd be cast in was where I was 1- a fight donkey and 2- non speaking.) Rehearsals at *night* meant slavering away in a dark theater whenever I could have been at class.
And then...my problem with the ladies. Around that time, I dated a woman who was a pretty big gunner and was auditioning like a fiend. I hadn't adopted my "take long breaks and see who calls you to work" mentality. (Mixed with my current "Make sure you list your conflicts on audition sheets so you have time for you, aka Karate") When you're being advised that you NEED to go Equity you chase a lot of professional theater gigs, and karate gets set aside as a silly hobby. So it became a "thing" where I'd talk myself out of going on my free nights in order to stay home. (I was asked if I wanted to do "Tae Bo" tapes with her...and I was all like...um, no. She was also the one who told me my stomach stuck out when I was doing slow kicks at home, soooooo...bye.) Mikey finds more excuses.
My 1st year as a homeowner I was so mired in projects that I literally did *nothing* else but work and work on the house. Sometimes I'd get on a streak, get injured and talk myself out of going back until I felt better. Or hit sparring, fight a thumper who didn't have control, and stop going. Funny thing though- when I went through a pretty emotional end of a relationship, it was karate that got me through it. Sparring on Sunday nights at karate junction, heavy conditioning drills and the like put my head in a clearer space.
When I started going again in earnest, I hazarded my first sparring class in probably 5 years and *royally* f#cked up my leg. And that was a little over a year ago. My head wasn't in it. At all. The taste/fun was somehow diminished and diluted and for me, that was fine. (I like doing form and self-defenses anyway)
My point- in order to get my black belt I need to fight. I don't even have to hit the tourney's to "represent" my school like the old days or be a corner judge. Just attend sparring regularly and not have it be to just fulfill the requirements. A few weeks ago after getting my brown/black stripe by a happy accident, the schedule was changed and they added sparring during one of my normal curriculum class. (I was just glad I had my cup and mouthguard with me) And suddenly, I was back in it. And it was fun as hell.
I mean, I'm still punching fodder for people while I try to shake the dust off and jump start muscle memory, and gods know I am FAR away from my old fighting shape. But I had forgotten how much of a great work out it is and how FUN it can be.
Big brother asked me nearly 17 years ago when I was hemming and hawing over transferring my 9 month "Red Belt" program to a lifetime "Masters" program: "Mikey, do you think you'll actually *go*?" A legit question. I thought of it as a challenge and signed up anyway. Yes. Yes I would. Then, 3 years ago my instructor called me in to his office to ask me what I was doing. (Meaning- "Why are you coming here when you've been parked at red belt for 10 years?") And like that, I made it a point to be on my way. Challenge accepted.
Hopefully, the next time I post anything about karate it'll be after the big black belt exam. I went to the last one to cheer/audit, and the doability of it makes me pissed that I hadn't made the effort over the last 17 years. I could be a 4th degree by now. Teaching, even. Anyway. No time like the present. I just hope I keep a realistic attitude, get a little better with every class, and don't kill myself. So far so good. I hurt like a bitch, am pushing through it, and taking LOTS of Ibuprofen.
Because while I kind of like to think I look like this?
Did you know there's an actual term for dudes that want to look like ripped athlete's or p0rn stars (versus the mega buff body-builder heroes and wrestlers of the 80's) and they're called "Spornosexual's"? I think my old man would call them vain or even worse: "Cream Puffs". (My old man used to rip on my affinity for hitting the weights. Usually when breaking my back doing manual labor for him, like uprooting trees with a metal pry bar or sawing through a backyard apple tree- not with a chainsaw or appropriate tool...but with a small triangle saw. "THAT'S how you get MAN MUSCLES, Mikey!!! NOT from the Nautilus or whatever jungle gym you play on at the Y!!!"
In other news, do Nautilus...Nautilii...are they even around any more? I remember we had to go through a 2 hour training session just to use the stupid crap, and the equipment was treated with the kind of reverence reserved for delicate antiquaries. Ironic.)
It's pretty comical (to me) that 10 years after starting this here old blog- a blog which was originally set to document 1st time homeownership (primarily) and other frass (calling myself dysmorphic nicknames/lifting weights) that I'd be using it as a pulpit with which to announce my engagement to my newest roommie Ranch. The whole story is more fun when told in person, and there's a library of photos out on FB, but to sum up: A few weeks back she made me laugh a lot over dinner. I'd been sitting on the ring for a couple months "waiting for the right moment" (ouch), and while we were joking over the dinner table...she called me on my bullshit. And so very casually? I asked her. She didn't say "Yes" right away, she actually said "Are you SERIOUS?!?!" to which I told her I probably had the receipt for it somewhere before she pulled it away from me in a very protective manner.
Something like this...hey hey hey LOVE YA, HONEY!
Anyway, surprise! Right? Considering my hardline stance in opposition of my getting married for nearly 10 years, (as well as speaking up for the rights of *everyone* being able to get married.) the surprise was mainly on me. But that's neither hither nor thither at this point. What in the natural f#ck did that opening paragraph have to do with the fact that we basically planned our wedding/venue/guest lists/catering in what can only be considered a world record? (10 days from the engagement, friends. BOOM! Adding to the list of other bullshit I occasionally get called on*, my request to "enjoy" our engagement for a few weeks before going wedding crazy was vetoed in lieu of taking care of the practical matters- such as the aforementioned venue/caterer which apparently can be hard as hell to secure in advance.
I surprised myself further by agreeing to take care of that business sooner rather than later- effectively stifling my normal foot-draggishness, and we pretty much had it nailed down by February 1st. So? My advice, which is cobbled from other's advice? Give yourself a 6 month window from when you propose so you don't overthink it, keep things local, and occasionally give in to closing your eyes and jumping. Occasionally.) So yeah. We got the date we decided on through a miracle. They told us there were people planning to use the venue into 2017!!!
Pictured: What happened to me when talking about how much a wedding photographer can cost, as well as pricing out some more "popular" Twin City venues. It's a racket, is what I'm saying. And a place that sounds like the "Pill Smitty Peuseum" will attempt to bankrupt you before you say "I do". The more you know...
Well...Like I mentioned last month I've re-examined some fitness/health goals of mine. And while I'm not groom-zilla, both the fiancée and I have agreed to do this *thing* together and whip ourselves into shape. She knows about my desire to take the stress off of my heart, blood pressure, and body and lose 30 pounds (it's necessary), and she told me she'd like to lose weight in order to feel good on our magic day. The caveat? Is that what we do to get there has to be sustainable.
As you know, I started walking while I was at work back in October. You'll be pleased to know I've maintained that- in spite some extreme temperature dips. (It took some mental prep. Below zero isn't a time of year you wanna schlep outside, especially with slippery ground.) The second step was a doozy since it meant I needed to re-examine the kind of fuel I put in my body. Like I said before, it was just too much. Not necessarily *bad*, just *a lot*. Which- if this seems familiar to you-stop it: I was putting away a take-out box from the buffets probably twice a week. Not to mention going back for 2nds at dinner nightly. Portion control, as it turned out, wasn't as bad as I thought. As was stopping myself from leaving the office to get food over lunch. (A 20 minute power walk has taken it's place.) I 86'd the 3...5... okay FINE!!! Up to 8 hardboiled eggs I was munching at breakfast with something a trifle more responsible.
My arsenal to take the edge off.
Lunch is a pretty simple affair too, being either low-to-no carbs and either a pair of plain veggie burgers or a nice brothy homemade soup with lots of veggies and tofu. We're back on to making dinner's/lunches, but with the exception is I'm doing the whole portioning thing and skipping the "run back into the kitchen and making that pad Thai DISAPPEAR" diet...I've also been trying out the Fast Diet , in addition to tracking everything from food to working out on Myfitnesspal.com. (Like I needed another website to track my s#it.) Oh...and I weighed myself the other day and since working on the portion sizes and not eating out all the time? Managed to drop about 12 lbs with a little bit of effort.
A larger drawback? Besides feeling SO F#CKING HUNGRY and missing take out chana masala? Your friend Mikey got himself sick as hell for a second time within a month back in January.
Just like that. Started the 2nd week of the year bedridden and feverish, and in spite of having broke the fever and being on the mend it's the persistent nose leakage and sore throat that's bothersome. I've *just* started to get back into running/lifting/HIIT-ing (focusing the workouts in general) and also back to karate for the 1st time in nearly a month, which I HATED to miss what with the whole "Getting my black belt" goal. And while I haven't dropped weight as fast as I had in college (I'm still getting a physical in March, which'll hopefully mean I'm below 200lbs.) I can probably blame the wine for the superfluous calories. That, and a vacation where in spite of packing (too many) work-out clothes? We both just said "F#ck it" and decided we'd enjoy ourselves. Because vacation.
It was like this. Only...like this. With awesome Hollywood Mexican cuisine.
So that's where we are. For her part, she's hired a personal trainer to help her with some new HIIT workouts to mix it up a little. I've signed up for some races, have started back into run training in earnest, and am hungry, my babies. No seriously, I want all the food. Oh, and in a rare feat we're both helping each other with skipping the weekday alcohol drinking and saving it for the weekends. (We'll see how that makes us feel after I shitty day at work. ) There you go. Sustainable. Nothing crazy**. And if I read about spornosexuals 15 years ago I'd have probably rolled my metrosexual eyes back in my head. Seriously. "Sporn"...like you're getting plastic utensils at a XXX Kentucky Fried Chicken.
More news to follow. Your support, as always, is appreciated.
*I have fond memories of occasionally calling my dad on his Bullshit. Nothing hurtful or mean, but it was more like recognizing that dad's comments and ideas and instructions were occasionally fallible, and then watching him get frustrated when I would see how amusing his reaction was...and laughing at the situation would usually diffuse the argument. Especially when you do it in front of family. ("No, dad. I'm not painting *wrong*. Brush. Paint. Surface...what are you, Mr. Frickin' Miyagi?!?!?! You're left-handed for God's Sake!!!" <---true friends.="" p="" story="">
**Nothing crazy at all.
Editor's note: At the bottom of the article is the final tally of my personal 30-day fitness/activity challenge. I know I said I'd work-out every day, but to clarify for any folks who cry foul on the three days that I *missed* prior to my birthday on 12/25 was due to a respiratory infection/cold where I couldn't get a full breath and needed to call in sick to work. I was bedridden. And it suuuuucked. Otherwise, I managed to get in a least one hour of physical exercise daily, as promised. Even if it was Truffle Shuffling in front of the TV.
What did I learn/What changed? From the minute clinic visit, I learned that I still have high blood pressure. (And the doc was WILDLY excited to prescribe me meds for it.) I probably only lost 5 lbs. My clothes aren't looser. I still have a jowl-covering beard. I'm really quick to want to skip a walk when the weather gets cold. (Like last year, for the 55 full days it was below zero) I'm really tired (a lot. You try walking, running, then karate-ing all in one day. It's exhausting to commit to something like this without a rest day.), and the worst- I learned what my weight was after not having set foot on a scale in 2 years. Ugh.
Still?
I learned that I eat too much. If you're working out, a lot, and your weight doesn't go down then you need to observe other possible problem areas. Mine, in a word, was food. I love the shit out of food. And until I stood on the scale at the gym, I had no idea that the fuel I was taking in miiiight've been too much to process usefully. So, I learned portion control. (AJ is right- cutting a veggie burger in half and boxing it right away is dead useful versus scarfing the thing because it's in front of your face and you wanna stay a good member of the CPC.) Indian foods? The two close-by buffet that let you load up a Styrofoam box to bring back to work (and then eat the whole f#cking thing.) Going back for 2nds and (ok) 3rds? Not ok.
Also? Being goal-centric isn't too wildly difficult if you put it in a public context and create stakes. Basically I gave myself a doctor's "come to Jesus" moment versus getting that from a doctor after a diagnosis. One hour a day to move. Getting up from my desk to go for a scheduled walk instead of slouching in my chair over Facebook? I don't look forward to bundling up, but even I noticed that I'm a grand justifier/excuse-maker...so I started bringing extra layers. 2.5 to 3 miles walked every day. Boom.
And walking? Even briskly? Is a great way to mumble out my thoughts and get some simple exercise in during the day. A good way to have some QT with my girl. And it keeps me going outside and keeping my legs "road ready" during the Winter. I can tell you that I didn't run outdoors last year for almost 3 months. Now we're nearing January and I'm hoping to still be hoofing outside.
Lastly? The changes may be imperceptible, but I notice some of them more than others. My pants aren't really "loose", but at least I don't have the mild muffin-top I did before. I'm not as tired *during* my work day or needing to power through with a carafe of coffee. I learned that I could barely do half the pull-ups I used to be able to do (unassisted) and have started being able to get my carcass off the ground. More over? Getting ready to finish up some curriculum over the next 3 months as I head toward my black belt.
Portions. Keeping at it (daily) into the new year. Get enough sleep. I'm starting the Fast Diet twice a week in January. I promised my girl I wanted 3 months to see if I could get my weight down, which (I believe) will help take the stress off my heart. I have 2 months before I'm due in LV and CA for a vacation where I'll be schlepping in salt water topless. After that, it's just keeping at it. I think that's doable. I think that I'd like to have my insides be as healthy as my brain wants my outside to look. ("Hey! I bet he looks pretty good naked AND has lower blood pressure")
I think this is worth giving my new, 40-year-old body a high five.
(Not pictured: November 24th through 30th. Also, "Indoor" means "Karate" in Mapmyrun speak.)
It's less easy than I anticipated, but easier when I just tell myself to go for a walk instead of flopping down for a nap or internetting or Netflixing. Less easier still is dropping my portion sizes to something more "normal" and less "Jabba no portion". Also, there've been plenty of opportunities- being the holidays and all- to snarf wine...(sigh)
Still, I've managed to avoid most meat except a Christmas Party (which I regretted, deeply) and some seafood at a double date. That, and lunches have been a boring affair the last week or so- but I've stayed away from fast food/Chindian buffets and increased my strength training workout durations considerably. Dorajar gave me a tip on the "Fast Diet" which Ranch and I will be starting...more than likely after the New Year.
The biggest set back, so far, is that I deigned to weigh myself in my exercising hubris last week. It was...alarming. And I'll maintain my open and honest stance here and say it was one of those things that ratcheted my self-esteem down plenty. I'm just saying, if you're coming to my birthday party- a kind word or two goes a long way with me.
(Editor's note: Today's blog is going to be a little more introspective than most with some sensitive and honest material. If any of my five readers make it past the editor's note, I'd be surprised. If anyone takes something away from this, just remember that time is pretty precious and to love like you're emptying a pitcher into a shotglass. For the rest of you, enjoy the gifs.)
Guess what, true believers?
It's my BLOG-A-VERSARY!!!
That's right, kids. Just about TEN YEARS and a month ago, I started this little blaug as a way of following the trials and tribulations of home ownership. From there, it evolved to cover all sorts of rando material- memes, vacations, workouts, dinners (including a forgotten food blog), current events, and has been basically a brain dump for whatever casual observances I actually had the wherewithal to write down. That and what I could get away with while I was at the office during the day.
I should also mention that this also marks a very special upcoming birthday for yours truly- Lordy Lordy, on the 25th of December this frassy X-Mas baby turns 40.
I'm also grateful that I made it this far...a virgin. You're welcome, Mom.
Welp...I'm still in the house, 10 years later. There are still trials and tribulations, naturally. And rather than freak out about them, I take them in stride. (Or at the very least ignoring them until the last minute.) I've been re-financing, scheduled a bathroom remodel, and hosted 2 families for Thanksgiving. My newest roommate is also my partner of 2 years, and she and I are heading in the direction that most loving couples who co-habit venture...finding paint colors and duvet covers to agree on...ring shopping...yeah, you heard me. I'm gonna be forty. It's time to put away the baggy hand-me-down jeans and cartoon t-shirts that have been my jam for the last 40 years, stop being a flirty-scoundrel-petunia, fart jokes, and making off-color comments about swinging threesomes with open minded girlfriends to become mature and bonafide.
'Well, um, actually a pretty nice little Saturday, we're going to Home Depot... Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time”.
And here you'll all say collectively "Riggggggggght. You'll be out combing the high school's for dates well into your 70's you old perv."
I have yet to find that terrible book my dad got in his 40's that was a cartoon guide to being a guy in your forties, with one of the caveats being that you may find yourself ogling teenage female cashiers when at the grocer...which is fuuuuuucked up. The only attention I really want at Cub is when a cashier finds coupons for stuff I'm buying. All right all right all riiiiight for discounts!
Ten years...man. There are other tribulations are what's been weighing heavy on my mind, of late. (Not just the fuckery in Ferguson or a "wrestling" choke hold being a justifiable way to incapacitate an unarmed man who is asphyxiating in NYC. I keep that kind of vitriol to my LJ, thanks.) I'm talking about shit like.. 10 years has seen my fair share of financial despair. I've lost a long term job, underwent the pathos of job searching, the death of my father- which still stirs occasional heartache FYI... the end of relationships, end of friendships, the death of two uncles, and the MOST recent- my mom's last cancer diagnosis and the RECENT diagnosis which has sent our remaining family into a difficult-to-right tailspin. (I won't elaborate about it here. To paraphrase Moloch from "The Watchmen" talking to Rorschach: "You know the kind of cancer that gets better? That ain't the kind of cancer she has". In the interest of sharing, we did end up getting some great news recently on the chemo treatment front, so I'd prefer to keep things on the upbeat. Also? If I despair? Back to kvetching and ugly-cry-writing on LiveJournal.)
Yeeeeeeah. Look, I don't put stock in 40 being a malignant signpost of aging. The stipulation people have put on aging has been dynamic and malleable over the last...uh...40 years or so. So that's not what I'm here to talk about. See...in the last ten years there's been some personal health frass. Let me explain-
So you know...I frass about health and wellness and exercise and chubs and moobs and blah blah blah...starting this off, and for a long spell my life has had that as an identifier. Dysmorphia and all that. I ran, lifted, watched what I ate, crunched, planked, and karate-d my way through my day to day. For the most part, and without actually being a personal trainer, I was pretty good at it. Back when, I was good enough to help folks focus on fitness. I would say I was mostly-to-partly disciplined. Later on, it was brought to my attention that my frassin' about working out, my fat ass, etc was a little obnoxious. And really, nobody likes to listen to the guy who's doing all the working out bitch about their own body and figuring that the dysmorphia was mine to own, I cut it out.
Seriously. Sure there were a few outbursts, but just like when I would post my runs on Facebook I was oblivious to it until it was pointed out to me. I figured I was getting a little more self-aware as I "matured" (snerk), and could afford to self-censor. Like people that run the Tough Mudder, people who are in Crossfit, eat Paleo, or any other health fad- the more you hear about it, the more you just don't want to hear about it.
Sorry friends. It was what I knew, ...y'know? Just...frequently unsolicited.
Coincidentally, when I stopped frassin' about it all the time (About 6 years ago) I had to retire my normal jean size that I'd been wearing...like, forever. I started foraging thrift stores for my current size and just shrugged. Sure, I'd still work out and stuff. I still believed that it was just that I wasn't working hard enough or eating right. I skipped getting massages because I didn't want to lay down on the bed like a beached whale, whatever that meant. So I'm a little soft. I can run a couple more days and be fine. And then I had to see the doctor. And shit sort of got real. At age 34.
I had an abscess. In a very tender place. That doctor visit gave birth to a physical which told me some not great news. I was 25 lbs heavier than I was in 2004. I had high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and I had to go back for repeated blood draws for elevated triglycerides. (They told me it could be cancer, diabetes, etc. They just didn't know. I'd find out later what it was.)
I started unbuttoning my top pants button at work (I'm being honest, here.) Eventually I lost my job (NOT due to my weight, thank you) and instead being poor of getting lean in the Dickensensian sense, I got larger. And I noticed. A few friends who lacked filters commented on my growth and out of shapedness. My family and loved ones were always supportive and didn't really care. Then my dad died. I started getting mega stressed. I'd start sweating with any little piece of effort. My breathing was occasionally labored. And I still had my brain convinced that I was in high school and just needed to jog a little more. Fuck yeah.
I'm going to further confess that when my girlfriend started training to run her first half-marathon, I had sugarplum dreams of getting lean again, and maybe some definition. After all, I still ate low-fat and fat-free foods! Most of my diet was vegetarian! I was running! A lot! Many Miles! My brain said that I was an athlete and fuck...YEAH! FITNESS!
I posted this before, but it bears repeating: There is no runners high. This is a man who is out of touch with what it means to run a race and is dangerously close to vomiting on his New Balance. And having bloody nipples. Check out the tummy overhang.
Oh. I figured it out eventually. The missing component. The piece that said "You are hamstringing your own efforts!" I probably should have figured it out sooner, or at least stopped ignoring it. I mean, it was only a couple of times co-workers smelled my boozy previous night's happy hour emanating from my body. Or suffering insomnia and doing a couple of shots to knock myself back out at 3am. Or shotgunning a beer before running a 10K. Or not being able to hold down food and throwing it up over lunch. Or going up on lines during shows, not passing licensing tests because I was nursing my 3rd vodka tonic while I studied, or having a cocktail or 2 before going to meet friends for happy hour or a party or seeing a play. ("You drank BEFORE you went to happy hour?" Well duh. You're drinkin' anyway.)
Or the time- and this is funny- my mom saw it in my glassy, piggy, bloodshot eyes. Yeah. The boozin' was starting to steamroll. And I was a creature of habit. And if it wasn't for my body starting to rebel (see aforementioned vomiting and runny stool), I'd probably be a little on the dead side. Or cirrhotic. Or drinking sterno.
Anyway. Point is, I found the trigger and changed it. (Hooray for me, guys. 4 years and I've been avoiding hard liquor like it's a speed trap. The shitty thing is that even beer and bubbles upset the old tum-tum, but whatever.) And hey! Within the last year or so I've made a conscious decision to make getting my black belt a priority. When mom's first cancer diag came about, I cut out soda with aspartame. Then- worrying about seeing friends fighting their own battles with cancer decided that fat-free/diet anything was probably a bad call with all the chemicals in shit. However-Two bad winters in, and my own level of activity petered out but good. Netflix and Roku and binge watching TV became my new friends. I resumed eating more meat (I NEED IT TO REPLENISH MY BODY!) and forgetting to portion. And then I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror during my uncle's funeral and I was like "Fuuuuuck..." as only the be-jowl-d says when they see love handles. Over their "fat pants".
And then another doctor visit had the same shit. High blood pressure, high cholesterol, and the one note that I hated: "Try and lose weight". What happened to me? What the natural fuck happened to me. It was like, my manic energy at hating myself fueled my discipline? I have to be mentally unhealthy to stay healthy healthy? I started re-finding excuses to "not" do things. An injury during sparring meant I was out of karate for 2-3 months and negated my original momentum. So did getting theater gigs ("No time, no time!") and, to my shame? So did mom's last diagnosis. She needed me to cook for her. To help clean. Who has time to run when you've people counting on you?
And then...after 10 years of ups, downs, drunk episodes, diets etc. a couple of things happened in short order. 1st, I started reading a book* that was both motivating and eye-opening in a way that "Born to Run" had been when I needed a boost to start running "right" a few years prior. Then, I noticed that my vintage scary mortician tuxedo I wear during my scary Halloween tours? With the adjustable waist? I couldn't fasten them. On top of *all* that?
A few friends and acquaintances of mine passed away in fairly short order. Due to bad habits...from a heart attack after an accident...and from battle with cancer. Fucking cancer. Guys who were all around my age. A local woman's blog about her love story (with inoperable brain cancer) to her husband came to an end with his recent passing.
Suddenly I had started to notice that my breathing was also getting labored after a big meal. I had a tingling in my fingers. I couldn't stretch or run distances. I had returned to the land of the great out of shape. Moreover, I needed to acknowledge that I am/can be/could be a candidate. For heart disease. (Dad/Uncle) MS. (Uncle) Cancer (Uncle/Mother/Grandparents). Dad was 46 when he first went in for his angioplasty. My brother had a couple of pre-cancerous spots removed. Leave it to mom to remind me that tingling fingers could be indicative of MS. Suddenly my brain went and short circuited. Cancer's unpredictable fuckery notwithstanding, I spent part of my 20's fake baking. I didn't use sunblock all the time. What if that one last strong cocktail made me cirrhotic? What if I have arterial blockage? The cyst in my arm or chest is cancerous? Have I pooped too much and is that dark brown? Does that mean blood or just that I had a beet salad? Those moles look weird. Fuck fuck FUCK!
For the record, no. I don't check WebMD. Ain't nobody got time for that.
Ok. Still reading? Here's where the accountability comes into play. I've been playing this game with myself now for the last 10 years. It's not yo-yo dieting, it's a yo-yo, convoluted, delusional mindset. A greater sense of healthy well-being than I actually can cop to if put on the stand. A better martial artist than I am because my form is better than a few people at my school. Better shape because I'm not concave-chested or pot-bellied. Because I ran that one time. (C'mon. I haven't run a race since April.) I've been coasting by saying "I don't eat sweets/desserts" and I eat a plant-based diet without giving a thought to portion sizes/restraint. To snacking on cheese a lot. To snarfing a couple of glasses of wine nightly. I'm fessing up here. And it doesn't feel good. It feels like I've been cheating myself. Because the only singularity entering my 4th decade that I can bank on is that I can control my environmental factors only in relation to my own health and wellness. After that, I'm pretty much fucked. But until then, I know I can control how good I feel about myself. Dig? I'm not beating myself up here, so just listen another sec-
So here's what I'm gonna do, and just so you think I'm not this voice in the ether making it up I can promise you that...I started 8 days ago...(Get it? I just monologue and my evil plan is ALREADY IN MOTION!)
30 days before my fortieth birthday, I promise that I will:
1) Abstain from alcohol up to, and possibly beyond my 40th year.
2) I will not beat myself up if I cheat on number 1 now and then. (Quitting for 60 days earlier this year? Felt pretty good, but it didn't result in the magic weight loss I thought it would. Go figure, you need to exercise more- even if it's 20 below every day)
3) I will commit to an hour of exercise every single day up to and possibly beyond my fortieth year. Even if it means I'm only walking for an hour. (My girl and I have already found our zen in bundling up on Sunday and going for a brisk stroll around the neighborhood.)
4) I will not miss a day. There will be no "Skip today and do two hours tomorrow".
5) I will find ways to be active at work. (About 2 months ago, I started going for 3 walks a day over my breaks and lunches. When the weather was nice, I even got up to 3 miles mapped out. With snow piles and ice, I'm down to 1.5 miles walking per day- but it beats sitting on my ass for 8.5 hours. I have become a work power walker. If you read that book? You'll see why you can't just stand and stretch once an hour. You gotta MOVE.)
6) I will get my black belt by 2015.
7) I will maintain a plant based diet to the best of my abilities up to and beyond my 40th year. (Exceptions being Thanksgiving, duh and other special occasions)
8) I will control my portions and enjoy my food. When I'm done eating, I'm done. Even if my plate is still full.
9) I will remain cognizant of my breathing and continue to breathe fully.
10)I will find a way to see my close female friends topless by the end of Summer 2015.
11) If you made it this far, you know that number ten is a joke. Mom.
12) I'll make good on seeing my doctor, being proactive about my health, and making sure I get the most out of their service.
13) I'll not make unrealistic expectations about my body, shape, and continue doing all of this for my heart and my brain.
14) I'll try and keep a good attitude about all of this, not mire people with my bullshit list, and do my best to ingrain this into my daily life. Daily.
The best thing I think I can brag about is that I do drink a lot of water on the daily. I think that helps keep things flushed. The next most important thing is that as long as I'm ambulatory under my own power, I need to keep my body moving. Moving means blood flow, increased capacity to oxygenate, and that- that in my weird framing means that my blood won't sludge and my body won't atrophy. I think this is a good thing. I want to enter my 40's strong, and there's a strong case these days that our bodies are hitting their stride by the time we get to them. I have a niece and nephew who I want to see graduate and have front row seats to their wedding. I have a girlfriend who wants to be a wife and have me around for a long time. I want to live long enough to see the Eiffel Tower and have a doofy photo taken next to that Tower in Pisa. I have a libido that'd like to keep doing the hunka-chunka without the need for a pill. (And a heart, and blood pressure, etc etc.)
I think this is going to be a good thing. It's been kind of hard so far, I won't lie. I really like napping, drinking merlot, and watching my stories with the cat. But I hope I can make good on it for the rest of my life. And not worry about looking like this unpopular douchebag.
I know I've used him before...but: "Pictured- a man who has nothing better to do with his days off outside of trying to add extra vascularity to his body"
*It's a seriously good read. I thought "Living Biblically" was fun and recommended. In "Drop Dead Healthy" I started to re-learn all sorts of crap that set the fire under my ass to get outside and move as often as I can. Sedentary living, if I may lecture a second, is one of the biggest health issues facing Americans today.
(Editor's note: This will contain your annually scheduled Minnesota Cold Weather/Winter kvetching that you may have come to know and love from myself and any other able bodied and vocal MN resident. I will do my best to reduce the number of "Game of Thrones" references, because originality...)
A few Sunday (Sundaes?) back, November 9th in fact, I was desperately raking the immense annual backyard dump-z-palooza of leaves from my oversized box elder tree into the evening dark. This, of course, was due to the weather reports threatening snowfall beginning the next morning. I had ran out of recyclable bags, so I was doing the terrible Minnesotan thing of pushing the massive pile behind the garage on the mulch with the rest piled over the garden bed. I actually had the wherewithal to cover the wood stack in the fire pit with a tarp, just in case a nice fire would ease the chill of Winter...in other news, I felt more or less ready.
Then, in 10 short hours I was up at the crack of dawn shoveling my walk. 8 hours after that? More shoveling. The next morning? More shoveling and a little salt. And then? The temperatures starting hitting unseasonable lows in the single digits. So far I've invested in 160 lbs of sidewalk salt and needed to ice/heat a neck/shoulders/lower-back that have yet to forgive me for this shitty onslaught of weighted push-pull manual labor.
...Huh. I seem to remember all of this happening much...much...later. Except for last year. And the year before that...and, and, and...
A couple of things started swirling and jumbling in my noggin and have jockeyed for a position in my brain space simultaneously so that I've been trying to calm myself with deep breathing and try and recognize them all individually, BUT...ADHD is making it hard to articulate.
So...here are: The facts
-The 2 brutal, back-to-back Winter's are stimulating a cringing "flight" response in my body this year due to the fact that we just finished a "below-average temperature" November. A physical flinch. Both coming off the heels of the unseasonable (and lovely) 2011-2012 Winter, (Which, to be fair, wasn't *so* bad after the Snowpocolypse in December 2010 into 2011.) The first- snowy to the point we thought it'd never end and last year's record-breaking sub-zero cold temps that meant we were below zero for nearly two straight months. Even though my blogging is, shall we say "thin"...I managed to blog about it at least twice here and here.
-2013-2014 has seen an unusually high exodus in my friend-base toward the West Coast, with 2015 seeing a few more buddies making the trek.* As we're all in film/theater/comedy etc it may seem like a no-brainer that folks head to LA-LA land to invest themselves in the business where it's hottest. I'm starting to wonder if self-preservation wasn't a large part of their decision either.
-My PERSONAL druthers when asked about a United States region that represents my spirit tends to lean toward my beloved Southwest (est. 1992), I will also confess a spiritual menage' a trois with my love of crashing surf, salt air, and the dream-inducing quality the Southern California coastline inspires within me. (est. 1992 as well.)
-I used to say that I hit my "wall" with Winter on approximately February 18th. I thought I had the date down to a science, as the heart-swelling feeling of goodwill and cheer the holiday/birthday season can carry me through the new year and Valentine's day, and my resolve screeches to a stop when the manic and dark month of February typically exposes us to our first *real* taste of consistent sub-zero temperatures. The kind of deep freezing temps in Minnesota that only snowmobile enthusiasts and ice-fisherpeople seem to enjoy with any real zeal.
-I say typically...as last year the angry, bitter cold held the kind of grip on my body and soul like a rogue shark pulling you hopelessly from side to side before dragging you down.
-We (here in the Cities) just experienced our first "pure" (non-wind chill) below zero evening last night...December 1st.
-I've been giving serious pause to asking my boss about the logistics of moving to Las Vegas in order to be closer to our corporate office and renting my recently re-financed house out.***
These are the words I ponder...listen to my voice.
My ladyfriend has moved in with me. Not having to brave two cities for canoodling this Winter could make it better. I've a land mark birthday coming up. As I'm not one to linger on the number, I'm hoping it results in a wealth of buddy-time on Christmas to fill my heart up until it slops over like an overflowing barrel on a ship deck during a storm. And most importantly- a majority of the weather people, Weather.gov, (certain) Farmer's Almanac reports, and friends who have an interest in meteorology agree- it's not gonna "Polar Vortex" our asses again.**** That's why it's called a "30-Year-Storm". That's why it hasn't been that bad since 1983, 1991, or 1995, 2010 respectively*****.
I'm hoping I can break down the wall. I am. I hate eating my own words, and I hate the idea of despair this early in the season. Hiiiiyahhhh!
*At least I'll have a place to crash, right? And buddies to visit? Buddies who seem to miss their Midwest frassers? That's my hope anyway.
**When visiting a friend in Las Vegas who was also performing 8 x's a week in one of the Strip's popular musicals, I remember asking if he missed all of the diverse theatrical opportunities in the Twin Cities to work on a pretty vanilla (albeit popular) piece of theater fluff. As these kind of responses are wont to do, it stuck with me: "What I miss is having independent coffee shops every few blocks and not just Starbucks and Caribou. What I don't miss is waking up to my knees and hips aching and having to periodically shovel my walk 6 months out of the year." #thisisforty
***I'm not. No. Even if I wasn't invested, I've a sick mother and a partner and home I love. Since this article would indicate I'm accustomed to eating my own words from time to time, don't be surprised if I do something shocking and uncharacteristic for this friendly neighborhood frasser.
****I recently learned that there is always a looming "Polar Vortex" in the Arctic Regions, and last year's stabbing into North America was just a one-off. They usually hang around Greenland. And as always, the good folks at Cracked say it better than I ever could.
*****These were the last couple of really, really shitty Winters that took place in my lifetime. And if it's one thing Minnesotan's love to do is recall shitty Winters like they were from Westeros. (1982-83 was one of 2 snow days I ever had from Kindergarten through college due to cold. And mom and dad still didn't get the memo and had me walk to school only to see that the doors were locked. 1991 was the "Halloween Blizzard" that nobody can shut up about, 1995-96 had another spate of sub-zero temps which- to this day -causes me to feel the need to start my car in the middle of the night if the weather report says it's going to get into double-digits below zero...and 2010-11 was the mighty snowpocolypse which caused your hero to wade through waist-deep snow in the middle of the street to make it to the LQ for wiiiiine.)
