Hey; how was YOUR week? No, really, I'd like to hear.

Too often, I'm over-engaged with how *I'm* doing, what *I'm* feeling. I forget that I have two ears and only ONE mouth for a reason. It would be nice to hear from you, my readers, once in a while. Truth be told, it's been a turbulent month; some personal issues, some church issues, and, in full accordance with my addictive nature, I internalize and have the tendency to flip my $#!t, all up inside my head. And, while sticking to my allotted 2,000 calories/day (plus extra exercise-earned ones) I've noticed that I binge-eat the last calories of the day. So, a little distracting news would be nice. 

I was at a Big Book meeting a while ago, and, inspired by the show of hands of those "willing and able to sponsor a fellow sufferer," I approached a gentleman in regards to my program. We hit it off well. I began, in earnest, to read both the 12 and 12, and the Big Book. I began to read and consider the Little Red Book. It was made glaringly clear that the troubles I'd been internalizing are not my fault, not my circus, not my monkeys. God has granted me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Now, it's up to me to embrace that serenity, courage and wisdom, and the only way I can do that is through constant contact with AA, my sponsor and my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

 I recently suggested that someone I know check out the Tables; not make any admissions of powerlessness, just listen. Give it a week...a month...a season? If nothing else, the Steps and Traditions are a pretty good set of rules by which to live. I was told that the Program doesn't work. Maybe I misunderstood what was said. Maybe the heated quality of the conversation changed the way the words sounded. But I heard "It just doesn't work." I was saddened. Almost to tears. As if I'd been called a liar. But then I remembered what Julie P once told me: "When the time isn't right, nothing you can say is helpful. When the time IS right, anything you can say will be helpful."

I guess I have to wait until the right time. Meanwhile, I work all my programs, all my addiction recovery efforts the same way. I keep telling myself that "If I stray, I'll die." Oh, to be sure, I'm headed toward a dirt-nap someday. We all are. But I can control (to some degree) whether it's with dignity or ignominy. I can die sober, or I can clean. I can die straight, or high. I can die of any of a bazillion ineluctable causes, or I can die from morbid obesity. I'll hedge on the side of "ineluctability." Way less predictable, way more fun. 

 *   *   *   *   *

I don't know whether I mentioned it before or not, but if you're vegan, Kroger has a swell couple of vegan protein powders for us. They come in chocolate (EXCELLENT when blended with a banana and a pinch of cinnamon) and vanilla (also excellent with a banana, and/or some frozen berries.) They're sold in the Supplements section, with the rest of the milk-based protein powders. It's important to maintain proper nutrition while in the weight-loss process. If you exercise and don't replace protein, your body will cannibalize your muscle mass, and thereby weaken you. Also, you'll cannibalize calcium stores. Work with your family doctor (I work with my civilian MD, my VA MD and two rheumatologists to make sure my body isn't going into a flat spin.)

No official 5K's this week. I have done one unofficial one, walking the track at the Coffman Family YMCA (it IS fun to play at the YMCA!) and a couple 2-milers on the track, as well. We even went out to dinner with some super friends, Pam and Rick, and I ate like there was a feedbag on my face. Still, when I stepped on the scale this week, I'd lost. As a matter of fact, I had lunch out with my sponsor, too, and was a little surprised that I'd lost weight this week. Here: have a look.      

Down another 1.2#, for a total of 29.3#.

This keeps up, I'll have lost over thirty pounds by Christmas. I called my Mom this week, back in Connecticut. She got to telling me, every time I showed up, "Please! If you love me, PLEASE, Darling, lose that belly fat! Your heart...oh, what it's doing to your heart." Well, ladies and gents, the SHOCK in her voice when I was able to tell her that I was down almost thirty pounds! Oh, the happiness. She lost one son to heart disease; she needn't lose another. How nice it was to make my Mom that happy. 

So, that's it from the little tri-level in the country. If something here inspires you, run with it. If it angers you, let me know why. If I was going to gently suggest any takeaways, they would be: 

1) Don't internalize. SHARE. 

2) Pray (The Serenity Prayer works well)

3) Anything you do to change for the better is positivity in motion

Questions? Comments? Exhortations? Bring them on! I'd love to hear from you. And...

Be well; practice peace; I'll see you at the next one.

...and, when we were wrong, we promptly admitted it.

Another weigh-in completed. 228.2#. Same clothes, same scale. No 5K's this week. No one-milers. Just working the program. Being conscientious.

I DO have to confess, however. "Tell on myself," as we say around the Tables. One night this week, I got up inside my head, and binged. I ate after I'd closed my food diary. Went back to the same watering hole: got out of bed, went downstairs and grabbed the newspaper, and ate, almost right out of the refrigerator. I DID, however, have the sense to measure my gluttony, and as soon as Dawn woke up the next day, I spilled the beans. I told her everything. And entered my food consumption into my food diary. Got my "white chip," as it were.

And went RIGHT back to counting my calories again. And walking the malls. Because one slip doesn't spell failure.

So, back into it, we go. Because, as the Tenth Step of Alcoholics Anonymous (and, pretty much every other step-based fellowship of recovery) advises, "...and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it." (More on the Steps, in a bit.)

I was kinda "NPO" for my periodontal cleaning, Friday. I was REALLY "NPO" for my colonoscopy, Monday (TMI? I think not. There's nothing to be afraid of, getting a colonoscopy. Simple, death-defying act, to detect one of the slowest-growing, most easily treated cancers. A cancer that ravaged my Dad for two decades. I did it and I'm glad: even the "suspicious areas" which HAD been evident are now cleared up, thank you, Jesus!) Hence, the following photograph:

Yes; that says "226.1." Meaning a 26.1# loss since September 28th. Clear fluids for 24 hours and purgative medications for the next 12 makes for a light weigh-in. BAM! Total loss for the last two weigh-ins? 6.3#.

Now, rest assured, there have been NO "NPO" holidays for this blogger since the last one. I like food. I like to eat. A LOT. But, again, I've come to realize that what I eat, and when I eat it, are very important factors. Oh, yeah: Performance-enhancing substances don't hurt, either.

That's right. Water. Benefits: hydration, removal of toxins from the body, and beats the hell out of energy drinks and electrolyte replacers, when consumed in conjunction with a proper diet.and other factors. Side effects? Habit-forming. Easy to sneak. Readily available.  And, all in all? I'm NOT hungry at all. At all. As a matter of fact, in discussing my lab work with my VA rheumatologist, she said I've a few indicators that lean toward the "remarkable" end of the spectrum. I SHOULD be suffering from a few more symptoms of the three (yeah, THREE, count 'em) types of arthritis with which I've been diagnosed. But, a plant-based diet appears to have countered those nasties.

Pretty good two weeks, I'd say. I didn't walk as much; but the other day I pulled a 5K practice run at the gym; tonight, I did two miles. Earned enough calories to treat myself to a bowl of popcorn. Did you know that air-popped popcorn is only 31 calories a cup? That means a bowl of popcorn comes in at about 270 calories. Kinda steep for a snack, but, when I've met or exceeded all my nutritional requirements for the day, and STILL have over 700 calories left on my bindle... 270 calories isn't really that bad at all.

*sigh* Life is grand. 
 
That does it for this sitting. It's Monday night; my unofficial weight this morning was 219 and change. Yes, I've broken (again, unofficially) the 220# barrier for the first time in almost 6 years. God is good; I'm inspired, I'm happy, getting more healthy, and feeling good about food choices for the first time in a very long time.

Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

Thanksgiving and more

Well, then! Happy belated Thanksgiving!

We had a super day. I weighed in on November 21st to discover my weight has dropped, officially, to 232 pounds: down 2.7 pounds for the week, and a total loss of 22.4 pounds. And that was before the Big Day.

On Wednesday, a bunch of us veterans and special guests had got together for an incredible meal, presented by one of our Coast Guard brothers. A fish fry. Robin fishes far and wide, and brought in pike, walleye, bluegill... There were deep-fried mushrooms and hand-cut onion rings, and all sorts of goodies. For the Princess and me, Robin graciously pre-prepared the vegan goodies, all before the fish. Good-hearted man, he is.

Now, that was Wednesday. We'd winced at that. "If this is the "pre-game show," what's Thanksgiving going to look like?"

Thanksgiving looked like this: The alarm woke us at about 0630. We dressed warmly, sucked down a fast protein shake, broke out our hand warmers, and Dean brought us down to the Miamisburg Turkey Trot.

It was Aiden's first "on-foot" event. (He'd done the Jingle Bell Run in 2012, in a stroller. Hey, at 2 years old, he didn't want to pass up and embarrass his old Papi.) He even got the race bib, the 'brandanna,' and the official Turkey Trot hoodie. Cute kid. Takes after his Mommy, Dawn. We finished the event, a one-mile speed-walk, and then Dean brought us home, so we could face the oven and the stove. I never changed out of my sweats; too much to do: oven-roast the brussels sprouts, boil up the vegan "dirty" mashed potatoes (recipe courtesy of our boy, Steven) and warm up the vegan focaccia and and other goodies. Dawn had already baked the pumpkin-based brownies (fresh pumpkin from #kleathers) and I'd baked a stupendous veggie Wellington (OMG!!!!) Sis had made the vegan dressing and other sides: the famous Cheese Ball and Pumpkin Roll; Dean and Scarlett brought their specialties. The rest of the family had their turkey and pies. (I don't even apologize for not being excited about non-vegan food. It just doesn't blow my skirt up anymore.) And, a splendid time was had by all. Then Nichole, Dyllan and Amelia went to their other family gatherings; Lauren and Joe to theirs. By 4:00 or so, desserts eaten and last glasses almost drained, the house was cooling down and becoming quiet. I went out to vacuum the car and start packing; filled  the cooler and...bang, off to Connecticut.

We drove for five hours. Stopped in Pennsy for the night and slept like the dead. An early wake-up, again, and the road beckoned. By about 2:00, we were knocking on Mom's door: "Surprise, Ma! We were in the neighborhood, and..."

We met up with Mark and Melissa, then took off for dinner at one of Mom's favorite places, Mykonos in Danbury. (Slippery slope, eating out!) We shared a lovely meal, hugged and kissed, then...off to the Danbury Fair Mall. Yes, the mall. See, Dawn had met or exceeded her MyFitnessPal steps challenge for over 90 days at that point. I wasn't one to jack that up. So, two miles in the mall, like salmon swimming against human rapids, in Black Friday crowds. LMAO! We should have got extra steps for that, I tell ya!

Next morning, coffee with my niece Jen, ALL in the dark, as it were; on the DL. See, it was the weekend of her hubby, Rick's big birthday. He could NOT know we were onsite until zero hour. Then back to Mom's for a lunch date: Augie's, another favorite place she and Dad used to frequent. (See? ANOTHER restaurant meal. Try keeping track of THOSE calories, accurately!) Then, my brother quips, "Hey, Nicholas is off at Stewie's, playing 'Santa Claus' for the kiddies..." Well, here's the thing: YEARS ago, Nicholas planted the seed of an idea in my head, that turned into my having been a clown for over 30 years. I'd only seen Nicholas ONE other time, between that fateful first meeting, and now. I can assure you, I cried on Santa's shoulder, in gratitude. AND, got a nice family pic, to boot!

 
Mark, my younger brother, and his wife, Melissa, are on the left. Nicholas towers over (who DOESN'T tower over Mom?) and Mom in the center. Dawn and me on the right. Then, to the mall again. Yeah, all that "road food," all that sitting in the car...not good. Time for another two mile quick-step. After that, a short nap at the motel, and off to Rick's party. It was a busy night: talking with all those people who love Rick and Jennifer so well; talking with Danielle and Natalie's friends who were SO interested in my Kennedy Valve fire hydrant photo collection. There was quite enough incredible, delicious vegan food for us to enjoy, much to the diligence and compassion of Jennifer. (LOTS of MyFitnessPal tracking, there!) I didn't get ANY pictures of our families together, much to my chagrin. But, I caught Rick telling a story:

And, then: the trip back to Ohio. We'd done the trip to the Nutmeg State in two legs; the trip back? One shot. Several long, dreary hours in the car. During which we laughed, giggled, recounted the weekend, solved the world's troubles, and enjoyed the company of our lifemates. See, the anniversary date was looming: we needed to make plans for that. 

Sunday night, back in the loving bosom of our family, we relaxed. Then Dawn and I hit the Leslie Sansone video, and worked out for half an hour, to keep that steps-goal streak running. Then, we looked at that scale with fear in our eyes. Sunday is Dawn's official weigh-in day. Mine, being Wednesday, makes our scale "unofficial." She stepped carefully thereupon, and...

...had LOST WEIGHT! Holiday munching, sedentary (non-workout, except for power-walking and "Leslie time") and she'd lost. See? We're not "dieting!" We're MONITORING our intake, and MOVING. And, little by little...losing!

I'm fond of doing my "unofficial weights" in the morning. So, Monday *I* stepped on the scale. By gum, it showed a loss! 1.7 pounds down. How the...? Because I can assure you, Brothers and Sisters, Vegetable Wellington is NOT a fat-free food.  Steven's "dirty" mashed potatoes are NOT carb-friendly. But...monitoring the intake, and staying within the prescribed guidelines makes a difference. Really. I'm reminded of something I see on the walls of pretty much every Meeting place I've ever had the pleasure to have visited. It's a prescription pad reproduction written by a certain Robert Holbrook Smith: "Trust God; Clean House; Help others."

So: I'm trusting God to help me through the weak places in my programs (you DO remember that I'm in recovery.) I'm cleaning house (eliminating gratuitous calories, especially in the form of added sugars and (God help me!) soda pop. And, if this blog can do anything, I hope it inspires others to do something they've been meaning to do, but felt unable.

YOU. *ARE.* ABLE!

YOU. ARE. *ENOUGH.*

Trust. You can do it. If anyone had told me in September that I'd be losing over 20 pounds before Christmas, I'd have laughed in your face. Now, I'm still laughing, make no mistake. But it's because I can see my feet without pulling my gut in. Wow; feet are unattractive. LMAO!

So; that was like, two weeks ago. And, in the meanwhile, I hopped onto the VA scale again. On November 28th, I weighed 232 pounds. Even after the 'whiplash' week, I weighed 2 pounds less. What. The HECK!!! Yeah, I hear you: "YOU did it, YOU Lost the weight!"

True: it's MY mouth, MY fork, MY choices, MY Garmin, MY MyFitnessPal.

But it's *MY God* who is rescuing me from my addiction to food. It's MY savior that's making the difficult choices a piece of (metaphoric, vegan) cake. I go to church once a week; I attend bible study once a week. Both Pastor Ed and Pastor Larry bring His word to life in such a way as it applies to my existence in a clear and colorful, appropriate way. The lessons of gratitude, sharing, mission of helpfulness, unconditional love...it's hard to hear, and NOT share. Praise God.

And, speaking of praising and thanking an AWESOME God, I did happen to mention our anniversary, no? Dawn and me. Sixteen years of crazy, happy love. And, for our anniversary celebration? The Jingle Bell 5K. We did that run for our anniversary in 2012, as well. I trained/prepared myself for it by doing a 5k at the Towne Mall earlier last week, and at the Dayton Mall, as well. Funny thing, I kept remembering back to early October, when Dawn convinced me that we should do ONE MILE around Roscoe Roof park, one Sunday. And I was GASPING. If I'd had more time, I could have pushed those 5k's to maybe 6k...7k?  

Yes, another 5K. In 40 degree weather. In the rain. In (non-aerodynamic) ponchos. NOT my very best time. As a matter of fact, ten minutes behind Dawn's finish. But, I came in fifth in my division. (Out of only FIVE guys, but hey! I got my name on a board. LOL!) And we raised about $70 for the Arthritis Foundation. Neither feats being barn-burners, but...we DID it. I did it. I am off the couch, I was out from in front of the boob tube. Even these small things are praiseworthy, if you know Who to praise. And, Psalms 9:1 is a perfect place to start:  

"I will give thanks to You, oh Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all Your wondrous deeds!"

Please consider this an invitation to share in the season of joy and praise, the season of giving thanks. If I had to make a list of things for which I'm thankful, I'd break the internet. And I'm not a quarter bright, so 'remembering' isn't a strong suit in my head. I'll just start at the start, and add on as I go. The ending? None in sight. The joy is in the journey, and the journey? Guided by God. I'm thinking that if I wanna fill my mouth, it should be with thanks and praise. Zero calories; maximum benefits.

Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

Another week; another 3.7 pounds.

Another week; another 3.7 pounds. Yes: 3.7. I don't believe it myself. Because, it's gotten colder, and I haven't pounded the pavement as diligently as I should have. And Dawn's morning soiree with Leslie Sansone KILLS my feet and knees.

But, we DID hit the DAV 5K in Cincinnati this past weekend. Hit it hard (for an old guy with crap-ola knees and feet.)

Look at those stats: 3.5 miles in 53:16. According to the Garmin GPS and internal timer, that averages out to 15:26/mile. For a guy who has lost count of the knee surgeries, platelet therapy, hyaluronic acid injections, the joint replacement
y mas, y mas, y mas...I think that's pretty good. Burning up the world? No. Heating up MY corner of it? Yeah. As I've said before, any time off my (_)_) is better than the time I'd spent ON it.

Well: recently I had an interesting interchange with my first cousin (once removed.) Google says I can call him my nephew, even though... Anyway, Dr Inesta and I agree on the protein/fiber intake considerations, the value of what I put in my body...because EVERYTHING has 'value.' Do I want top fuel, or watered-down gas? If I'm going to last a while, without the intervention of a coronary surgeon, I'd better go for the hi-test.

And this weekend, I (obsessively) hopped on the scale. And lost weight Saturday. Lost weight Sunday. Lost weight this morning. Meanwhile, I was putting my pills together for the week, and doing my weekly Methotrexate injection, listening to John Pinette, God rest his soul. John Pinnette, who made fun of overeating, being "a big boy," of "liking to EAT!" First time I'd heard his monologue,  I almost wet myself.

Then, today, I'm watching him joke about "YOU EAT LIKE FREE WILLY" and I was sad. I used to have the reputation of "Human garbage can." Or "The family waste disposal." The answer to "What's your favorite meal?" was "SECONDS, dammit!" Often, I've heard, "You'd eat crap if there was sauce and cheese on it!" Only to say something stupid like, "Well, if you got good BREAD to go with it..."

Suicide. Spoonful by spoonful. Forkful by savory forkful. A bite here, a taste, there.  Those aren't coffin nails sealing my fate: they're CALORIES. Tappity-tap-tap. Tap. Tap! (No Toon can resist the old "Shave and a haircut" routine...)

I was amazed this morning when I broke 225#. 225.8#, to put a finer point on it. With the proper math applied, that's an adjusted (official, CBOC weight) of 230.2#. Without Allison Sweeny in her plunge-cut dress crowing about it. Without Richard Simmons dealing me a meal. Without Dr Phil analyzing it, or Gillian McKeith waving a bedpan under my nose, scolding me about 'shapes.' (Yes, she does that. Ew.) No Weight Watchers. No "plans." You know what's working? Careful application of certain life rules. Stewardship being one. Don't spend more than you've earned; don't waste your expenditure on trinkets.

I'm "blessed with" 2000 calories per day. If I bust my hump and beat my 7,000 step goal, or do cardio, or something completely insane like move my butt more than somewhat, I may earn a couple hundred more. So, eat maybe a seitan and peppers and onions burrito for breakfast: 580 calories. A cup of Moondrop grapes as a snack: 120 calories. Maybe a tofu sandwich on an couple pieces of whole wheat bread for lunch; some protein shake: 440 calories. That leaves me at just under 1,000 calories for snacks and dinner. Boo-YAH!

This is me, on Sunday, when I found out that my "go-to-meetin'" clothes had gotten way too big. How about that? I've not been able to button this jacket in years. YEARS. I've begun. Now, to continue. And then? Keep going.

That's it for last week (Yeah, I slacked off.) Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

If you want to change the world, start by making your bed...

It's Wednesday. And, it's been forty days. Noah was in the rain for 40 days. Jesus was in the desert for that long. In the bible, the number forty is said to represent trial. I don't know. What I DO know is that I've consumed a LOT of water. A lot. Way more than I used to. I've added less sugar to my coffee and tea. Maybe 5 half-teaspoons over the last 40 days. Used WAY less olive oil, and MEASURED it (not the famous Rachel Ray "zhuzh" where a tablespoon becomes a pint.)

I used to be 'passionate' about cooking. Now, I'm getting...meticulous. Paying close attention to the additions of ingredients, and portions. Portion control: the bane of my existence, heretofore. "One cup of pasta? ONE CUP? Why dirty the plate? One cup of pasta is what I TASTE, when I'm cooking!" That was MY credo. Now...one cup of pasta looks pretty danged good. Pret-ty danged good. And ya know what? I'm vegan! I can eat...SALADS! Man alive, you can eat a wheelbarrow full of salad, before calories start piling up.Just watch your dressings.

So, last week, after a fashion, we decided to bite the bullet and get the medical forms completed. Yes, THOSE forms: for the YMCA fitness program. Our doctors filled out their forms, we filled out our forms, and we went for the training session. Then, we signed into ActivTrax, which guides us through an increasing-intensity workout, week after week. We just went for the first one, yesterday, and granted, it was a light-weight one. Low weights. Low reps. Don't kill y'self, you have time.

And, this is me on the fly machine, near the end of the workout.

No, I wasn't all sweaty. No, there weren't any gasps, and outbursts of breathlessness. And no, I didn't strut like a bantam rooster when I was finished. It was fun. It was exciting. I'm humbled. And we're ready, Dawn and I, to hit this thing, face on. As with the DAV 5K coming up, Saturday, we're quietly giddy. We've trained, we've walked, we've gotten our heads right with it. We're not sprinting for 5 clicks. We're not doing this "hell-for-leather." I have my phone loaded with "marching beat" rock music; it's a military thing. I love walking to that beat. Dawn just does it in her head. LOL, she's got a different drum she hears. We expect to take about 45 minutes to walk this thing. That's what my last 5k was, more or less. Six years ago. Those were the "No Butts About It" colon cancer 5K and the "Jingle Bell Run" arthritis 5K. 

Those events were before knee surgery. And then foot surgery/joint replacement. And then *more* knee surgery. And *another* foot surgery. And cervical spinal stenosis. And psoriatic arthritis. They were also before the 254 pound shocker which led to me taking the fat-(_)_) bull by the horns: self-injected methotrexate and doubling up my Celebrex, eating food as FUEL, not a drug. Taking better care of the body God blessed me with.

I'm going to die. It's a fact. But I needn't rush things. When I went vegan, I said it was for health: I'd married a lovely, incredible, wonderful and appreciably younger girl. I had said that I wanted to last at least as long as her, and my lab work didn't indicate that to be possible, if I kept on the way I was going. So, I went "plant-based." People look at me (and the BIG shadow I cast) and say, "Wow, you don't LOOK vegan! Vegans are supposed to be skinny....oops." Yeah, because somewhere along the way, pasta became the other food group. Fried stuff became another food group (but it's fried in OLIVE OIL!) "Excess" became the norm. Crap, Oreo's are vegan. Potato chips are vegan. I took a perverse pleasure in taking so-called "good for you"  foods and turning them into carnival fare. "But it's STILL VEGAN!" Big deal. When I ran these items through MyFitnessPal, I almost croaked. I heard a whisper: 

Time. To. Grow. Up. 

My cousin the Doctor will tell you. "Food is FUEL." And, we're top-fuel dragsters, brothers and sisters. We require the GOOD stuff to operate. The good stuff, not junk food, not fast food. Now, is ONE fuel the best for everyone? No, and again, NO. (And I'm going to catch hell from the anarchist vegans for this, but:) Find what works for you: animal-based, plant-based, keto, paleo...you decide. All I can tell you for sure is that, even doing it incorrectly, plant-based works for me. And...my family, without our browbeating them to death over eating meat vs eating plants, have slowly come to appreciate the taste, feel and benefits of some of my recipes. Our older boy LOVES my seitan nuggets, and ASKS for them on holidays, in lieu of animal parts. My MIL has gotten real schmaltzy with the plant-based chili, stews and soups.  When the newspaper comes out with recipes, or the food magazines arrive, she's all, "Help me make this vegan!" We're making inroads, good people. But again, that's just us. 

I've heard it said that if you want to change the world, start by making your bed. I do that. I make my bed, every day, and help our little boy, Aiden make his (okay, sometimes we forget his, for playing and getting off to school.) One thing has been accomplished, and no matter WHAT kind of day you've had, you have a nice, made bed to flop into. Little steps. Same with your food. Look at the makeup of it. Can you pronounce the ingredients? (Okay, let's remember that vitamin names are tongue-twisters, I'll grant you that.) Do you REALLY want to waste your (hypothetical) 2000 calories on Circus Peanuts? Red vine licorice? A bag of fries from that chicken place? I've learned how not to. And soda pop! Dayummmmm! There are a whole lot of empty calories in that stuff! Food is FUEL!! Do you put sawdust and water and questionable stuff into your gas tank? I didn't think so. Treat your living body the same way, if not better. 

I'm living proof that one needn't be a fitness guru, be in top form to get healthier. Trust me, if you saw my x-rays and CT scans and MRI's, and the attendant reports, you'd gasp. Hell, *I* do. But, I'm better off than a lot of folks I know. I can still get out there and walk. I can still lift and press and such. I can hang out in the therapy pool.  I won't back down, and neither should you. 

Take the step. Make your metaphorical bed. This week's official weigh-in was 238.4#; official weight loss is 16#. (Somewhere, I'd miscalculated. I'm thinking it's between "naked weight" and "clothed weight." I'll get it right, someday. LMAO!)

Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

By the way, please take a minute to consider donating to the DAV 5K; the money goes to support over one million disabled American veterans per year. And, this Saturday, I'm plant-strong for my disabled brothers and sisters.

Please support DAV

http://donate.dav.org/site/R?i=EgDR1McDUdA5jOX89BsKkw

I DON'T DO TRICKS FOR FOOD!

I took my wedding band off, the other day. Waved it in Dawn's face. "So? You're leaving me?" she asked. I replied, "You don't get it. Last time I had x-rays, they said to take it off. I couldn't."

I couldn't take my wedding band off. My gut is fat. My moobs are fat. My face is fat. My HANDS are fat. But...I was able to remove the most precious piece of jewelry I've ever owned, as a function of having taken the advice of the girl whose love it represents. (You KNOW that the roundness of the gold band describes the eternity of love, right?) Uncanny.

Another thing? I sleep better. I SLEEP! With small exception (nocturnal pit-stops, LOL!) I sleep all night long. My Garmin tracks that. Used to be, I'd go to bed (after playing online word games and card games and following stream-of-consciousness nonsense threads for a good portion of the night) and sleep for oh, maybe an hour. Then I'd go downstairs, open the dishwasher so the dishes would be dry, and start reading the paper. Of course, you can't READ without EATING, right? A bunch of grapes. Or an apple. Or a banana. Or some peanuts. Or a jelly sammich. Maybe (usually) all of them; it's only little taste. Putting the jelly back into the icebox, I notice there's some spaghetti in there, behind the pickles. Crap, no sauce. Well, there's olive oil and nootch (WHAT? I haven't mentioned nootch before? Later. Gimme a sec.) And, oh, yeah, PICKLES! And, an hour or two later, I waddle my overstuffed butt back upstairs. And sleep fitfully, on and off, until daybreak.

You think I'm kidding. Don't you? I'm not. I'll make this admission more than once, before I die. I need to, because...my name is Steve, and by the Grace of God, by the Power of the Holy Spirit, and the shed blood of the Lamb of God, I am a GRATEFUL recovering addict.

And all I've done is switch substances. And, what the heck, let's face it: food is a substance. Am I unhappy? Nah, I don't think so. Am I suicidal? Jeez-o-pete, no! Is there something missing in my life? Well...proximity to our kids, maybe. I love and miss them all. The ones in NY, CT, NC, and across town. But, that's all I REALLY 'want.'

I'm medicating with food as a nasty habit. Like I did with alcohol and other less savory things. Bad day? Tilt one back. Good day? Tilt one back. Mediocre day? Tilt one back. I only drank on days that ended in 'y.' I only used at times that ended in 'o'clock.' The same way I eat. Like an addict on the prowl for his next fix. Ask me some day about the wedding reception.

'Wants?' 'Needs?' I have none. Somewhere between "coming to believe in a Power greater than myself" that would restore me to sanity and actually WORKING a faith, not just following a religion, I've realized that I have exactly that which I need. I'm blessed beyond comprehension. I'm better off than I deserve. So...why stuff? I'm not a dog; I'm not Shamu the Killer Whale. I don't do tricks for food!

I DON'T DO TRICKS FOR FOOD!

So, why am I 'rewarding' myself like I do those things? Two words: bad habit.

When Dawn asked if I was ready to get serious about this thing called stewardship, 33 days ago, I didn't say "Oh, my gosh, I have to count calories FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE???" I approached it like I approached alcoholism: One day at a time. I set a goal: 2,000 calories. As I eat, I weigh the options of "this versus that" in MyFitnessPal. Do I REALLY want five Circus Peanuts, or do I want three apples? An order of fries, or a seitan sandwich. (Hey, I make my own seitan, with no added junk, and no fat-laden calories, that's loaded with protein and vitamin B12. Recipes upon request.) I make smarter choices, and fill myself with...goodness! I've eaten more grapes and apples and oranges and bananas and veggies as SNACKS than I ever have. I drink water! Robin and I just spent a weekend on that well out back, and it flows pretty heartily. Nice, double-filtered groundwater from a tested aquifer. And, at 2,000 calories per day, I'm pretty doggone full. Never 'hungry.' And, oh, yeah: I usually have 200-300 extra calories left over at the close of my daily diary.

And, all of this leaves me (unofficially, because TOMORROW is the clothes-on, VA Clinic weigh-in) at 233.4 pounds. Now, add about 4.2# to that, and you get a rough idea of my regular weigh-in. Doing the math, I've lost 16.4#.

Now, let's put that little bit of data into perspective. Doing what my wonderful, inspiring (and let's not forget pretty darned cute) wife has suggested/begged me to do for years, I've lost .49 pounds (translate: HALF A POUND!) per DAY, for the last 33 days. I look at MyFitnessPal and see where put in where I'd like to have lost half a pound a WEEK. And, in my head, and on the scale, and in my clothes fitting better, and being able to walk almost every day, and being able to tie my shoes without becoming short of breath, I'm seeing the big flash of Morse code: "See how EASY???" 

See how easy...?

Truth be told, I'm waiting. Waiting for the big, bright, pink cloud to pop like a cheap balloon. It's always that way. Pretty much everyone drops a mad ton of weight in the beginning, then plateaus off to a trickle. "That LAST ten pounds is on me like fur on a weasel." But you know what? That's tomorrow. Next week. Next month. If I work the steps, follow my program, and trust God, I can DO this. I can, because I KNOW I can do all things through He who is within me! 2 Corinthians 12:9 says so. I can slowly whittle myself down to where I'm supposed to be. I've already lost 6.4% of my body mass. My BMI HAD been 35.9. It's now 34.1. Big change? Not really. But, small bites eat the Tofurkey. The journeys of a thousand miles begin and continue with a series of single steps. I...WE...are a work in progress.

Oh; I'd mentioned "Nootch." If I haven't said it before, Red Star Vegetarian Support Nutritional Yeast (Nootch) is how we vegans get our B12, a necessary nutrient. It tastes pretty darned good, too.

That's the news from Carlisle: Persevere. Have patience. Have faith. Share love. Practice stewardship.

I am proof that pretty much anyone can beat what's holding them down, and do SOMETHING to enhance their existence. Eat a little better, do a little more...we are not helpless! Rise up, be strong, and share the joy we're destined to experience!

Be well; practice peace; see y'all at the next one.

Wow, I suck at this.

I started back in of September, and I've blogged twice...one of which went AWOL somewhere. And, to be honest, I have weights all over the target. Clothed weight, un-clothed (I know: now you need eye-bleach. TRUST me, I have mirrors, and *I* need eye-bleach.)

Short recap: I went to my VA doc, and she said  "254 pounds is...the heaviest I've seen you. And your triglycerides are a mess. Would you like to try the VA 'MOVE' Program? See the Nutritionist on TeleConference?"

Done them both, I have. "MOVE," TeleConference. I'm MARRIED to a Diet Tech (registered) and read her school books for fun, sometimes. I KNOW the rules. I KNOW the guidelines. I've watched Dr Phil's weight-management programs, Dr Oz's weight-management programs. "Less calories in than you burn, no eating after xx:00, more protein, more fiber, no inane snacking, no mindless, TV-watching meals, olive oil is a condiment, not a food group, no added sugar..."

Yada. Yada. Yada. All those bleedin' words meant NOTHING. Nothing. Bending over to tie my shoes and gasping for breath before I got one bunny-ear wrapped around t'other didn't do it. Looking up the few steps from the main floor to our upstairs as if it were Annapurna in a blistering snowstorm didn't do it.

I am the FATTEST I'VE EVER BEEN. EVER.

"254#" did it. Especially when the actuary charts say I'm supposed to weigh 170.

Now, in (vaguely) recent memory, I HAVE weighed as little as 185 pounds. Really; I was working at WENY Radio in Horseheads, NY. I was working nights, telemarketing. I was working nights and weekends as a clown (Yet another story, for another day.) I was living on cigarettes, coffee, happy meals and fruit. Do you see, in that list, anything that screams, shouts, states or even whimpers "I'm taking CARE of myself?" I don't. Oh...the fruit, sure, but not the fast food, not the smokes, not the gallons of coffee (or Mountain Dew)... Isaac Bashevis Singer once wrote "A man does himself more harm than ten of his enemies." In my case, make that "Twenty enemies."

So, I sat through Group that day, after Freesia (my VA physician) gave me that "LOOK" doctors have when the news isn't the best, and moped. I came home and got all weepy with Dawn, my wonderful, beautiful Princess. She asked (as a very good recovery friend once asked) "Are you ready to get serious?"

So, I downloaded MyFitnessPal. I bought a Garmin VivoSmart HR+tracker. And I tied into this thing. That afternoon I did a little walk. The next day I went farther. Then, I loaded a playlist of "Quickstep" songs. And went farther. And I tracked my food. And I modified my goals.

I stepped on the scale yesterday at the rheumatologist's office. I'd worn the same jeans, same shirt, same shoes, same suspenders (Red Green, "If the women don't find you handsome, at LEAST let them find you handy" suspenders.) Remember, I'd weighed 254. I looked at the scale, yesterday, and it read...

...240.
Which means I've lost fourteen pounds.
I've ditched almost three bags of flour.
Or three and a half bags of sugar.
Or 14 boxes of spaghetti.
Or 8 dozen large eggs.
Or 9.3 bags of Twizzler Twists.

I have to tell you, walking with both osteoarthritis and rheumatoid (psoriatic) arthritis, pain management is a bit of a job. One medication I can use (but shouldn't, because of the methotrexate injections) helps. Another I'd like to try (but can't) is illegal. WTH? Non-THC, hemp-based CBD shows promise, but is proscribed by law. So...I walk. Sometimes, almost "powerfully." Sometimes, "with vigor." But I need a serious recovery time, post-activity. Somewhere down the road, I'm looking at an inevitable surgery for the removal of an artificial joint, but we're not going to worry about that, are we? Because just the recovery/therapy time is like, six months. Bone grafts from one site to another, blah-blah-blah...I'm just a bit busy right now. And I can ignore all that. I have Gold Passes to Kings Island, and an eight year old little boy and beautiful wife to run with! PRIORITIES, man!

As a recap, let's just list the steps I've taken:

1: I track my food. I weigh the pro/con of "this" vs "that.

2: I have added, since September 28, 2018, ONE AND ONE THIRD TEASPOONS of sugar to my coffee. That's one half teaspoon to each of four cups of coffee. That, down from a HEAPING teaspoon (max angle of repose, BTW) per cup. Two to three cups per day. And they're saying "one teaspoon of sugar..." Mine? At least 2, bringing a 5-calorie cup to 32 calories. Let's do some math:

3 (assumed cups of coffee/day) x 32 x 7 days/week=672 calories. Per week.
672 calories/week x 52 weeks = 34,944 calories per year. Say 35,000.

It's hypothesized that one need burn (or omit) 3,500 calories to lose a pound of fat. Eliminating my ladle of sugar from my java is equivalent to a gradual ten-pound LOSS in fat per annum.

3: I (a) try to walk five times/week and (b) get 7,000 steps/day.

4: I assign it all to God. There's this thing called "stewardship." Not just money;
not just property; Stewardship of self is maybe the most important stewardship we can practice. I mean, if our bodies fail, we're not going to be able to take care of the stuff around us, eh? If we're healthy, we don't have illness/injury/infirmity to distract us from bill-paying, employment (unless you're retired, in which case you do what work you do around the house) home maintenance, getting the kids onto/off of the bus, etc. Every activity can be preceded with prayer. Every activity can be followed by prayer. We can pray while we're doing stuff.  As an aside, as you lift your heart to God, offering your energies and sweat and pain (weakness leaving the body) to Him, you stand taller. Stronger. Straighter.

I'm just saying what works for me. And, fourteen pounds in 26 days means I was one *fat* boy; I AM one fat boy. I have a way to go. I need not only cardio...and more OF it...but weight training and flexibility training. As I'd learned back when I started my AA journey: One day at a time. My wife inspires me. Our daughter Meghan inspires me. My niece Jennifer inspires me. And then there's always Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things, through Christ, who is in me." What CAN'T I do? HOO-ah!

Be well; practice peace; see y'all at the next one.

First full week, and...

Well, folks, I did it.

I dug in and actually TOOK the advice my wife proffered. No, I didn't just do the "guy thing" and nod my head half-heartedly. I downloaded MyFitnessPal. I bought a Garmin VivoSmart hr+. I STARTED.

We started, together, Dawn and me, by doing a measured mile at the park. Sunday. Sunny, humid. Thought I was gonna DIE!!! I'd pulled up my music and started out with what the Army used to call "Quick-time" pace. I was feeling pretty cocky, because I'd out-stepped my pretty Princess. Then I did extra steps while she played with Aiden. And more steps. I ended up with 8122 steps. At about 30 inches per step. We're talking almost 4 miles, with the day's total.

MEANWHILE, back at home, I'm using that MyFitnessPal tracker and LOOKING at what I'm putting in my mouth. You did know that three plain Twizzlers are 120 calories, right? And I'm a FOOL for Twizzlers. I can easily eat nine of them. Easily. Or...eat what I had for lunch today: Pasta, chick peas, mushrooms, onions, spinach, olive oil, nootch (Nootch: the OTHER food group!)

Nine pieces of candy? Or a bowl full of Italian-influenced food that even my Dad would have loved? I'm pretty sure it was worth not buying the Twizzlers, yesterday. Just as an example.

So, looking at the quantities and qualities of my calories, cramming water, walking (every day, each morning, except yesterday, when Dawn and I lapped Walmart a couple times at a very brisk pace) and not grazing at midnight and beyond, I'm officially (at least this week) a loser.

I'm a loser. Yessir-ee-Bob. I got dressed in the exact same clothes I wore LAST week to the VA (I DID get them washed, TYVM) and weighed myself. Remember last week? I weighed 254 pounds. This week? 247.

In one week of actually DOING the little things I've been hearing Dawn tell me for years,  I lost seven pounds.

I'm a little sore. I ache at night, but, hey! I ache EVERY night. That's the nature of the arthritis I have. The meds make the aching tolerable. Because, to paraphrase St Paul in 2 Corinthians 8-10, "all I need is Jesus; everything is gonna be alright."

And, it  is. Going to be alright, that is. Nothing pithy and insightful, this week; just a little 'share' to say that I'm less of a man than I was last week. Seven pounds less. Have you been thinking of doing something with your health? If I can, you can.

Below, my "game face." Working out won't kill me.

Here? The laziness leaking out.

God bless, encourage and protect you all.

Back, again.

At roughly 0625 hours, on 5 January, 2010,  I began an abortive attempt at blogging a "better way to live."

I admitted my disease, my powerlessness. I may even have broached that an "-ism" isn't necessarily defined as the addiction to the actual substance, but the mechanics of the things that happen when the drug-of-choice enters your system.

In case you've forgotten, let me remind you. I am an addict. And addicts do what they have always done: feed their addictions. Whether I'm clean or not is inconsequential. What matters is how I live my life. Yes, I'm in recovery. But I'll always have the disease.

So, I haven't 'used' since 1980. And? So what?

I haven't had a drink since 1990. Yeah? Big deal.

I've changed addictions. And, best beloved, there are several. The computer. The phone. Silly home projects into which I've poured my time and efforts...only to half-or partially-complete them. GOOD projects that I over-devote time and effort to, to the chagrin and annoyance of my family.

My current, and most consistently-present "drug" is eating. I eat like I used to drink. Happy? Eat. Sad? Eat. Pissed? Eat. Can't sleep? Eat. Just finished eating? Hell, why put those leftovers away? EAT 'em.

Mostly everyone has seen "WTF" online. Yeah, I bet I know what YOU think it stands for. For ME, it's "WHERE'S THE FOOD???"

And so, I now weigh 254 pounds. I am the most overweight I've ever been in my life. When I was 19, and just leaving Fort Dix, New Jersey (C-7-3 Basic Training Brigade, BOO-yah!) I was a lean, mean, 135-pound trainee. That means I weigh 119 pounds more than I did when I was 19. Like, TWO people walking around in one pair of bib overalls.

A lot has changed, since my last entry (and, to be honest, I'm not going to look back and see when that was.) I retired. Unwillingly. Too many surgeries, too much arthritis, and nobody wants the preexisting conditions with which I arrive. So: short-term disability turned into long-term disability, then that turned into social security disability because, for some reason, my cartilage is disappearing like the dew on this morning's grass. Pssssst! Gone. That condition doesn't keep me from doing a lot of fun things. Just work things. Traditional work things. So, I do a little work, I have a little fun, and get through the day. I get stuff done. But not enough.

Time to work the steps. Time to LIVE the steps. And the bible. And the radical acceptance and situational awareness my VA counselor has been teaching us these last years.

So, what's changed? Besides my body shape, BMI, weight? I'm diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis. I self-inject Methotrexate once a week. Our little boy is growing up, and he's more of a handful to chase and entertain. We're still vegan. "Pasta is the other white meat." "Bread is the OTHER, other white meat." HUGE portions are the norm (and the bane of my health!) Sugar...oh, gratuitously added sugar! What the hell am I DOING to myself?

And, now: baby steps. I've not added any sugar to my coffee for three or four days. I'm taking ONE cup of coffee per day, with green or herbal teas (AND NO SUGAR) for the rest of the day, with no caffeine after midday. I'm eating slowly. Conscientiously. Maintaining portion awareness. I SIT after I eat; I don't automatically leap up for seconds...and discover I don't necessarily want seconds. If I do, veggies are plentiful in this house. The cheap, Dollar General cookies are tasty, and "just LITTLE cookies," but THREE are a serving, not seventeen. I can't seem to limit them, so...I don't buy them. I make a CONSCIENTIOUS EFFORT to stay the hell out of the icebox after dinner's over, the dishes washed, and the extras all put away.

Now, It's only been a couple of days since my VA doctor looked at me with that "LOOK" on her face. That look that says "Despite everything I've told you, despite everything you SAY you know, you're heavier now than the last time we had this little pow-wow." I know, I KNOW! I get short of breath, bending over to tie my shoes. I get winded, coming up the stairs. It's hard for me to get into rides at Kings Island. Some of the safety equipment SQUISHES me to bits. I'm heading toward "Sorry, you can't safely ride this attraction if the harness doesn't fit."

Screw that crap.

This morning, after a couple days of moderation, I weigh 251.6 pounds (-2.4#!) I'm using the MyFitnessPal app by Under Armour to log my caloric intake, and as soon as I get a Garmin tracker, I'll be linking that to the account. One day at a time, I'm going to be a living example of the stewardship of body God intended for us all. It helps that I have a SUPER accountability partner. She's also my diet tech (registered) and best friend, too. As another friend put it, "It's a sack race: we're in it together."

Hi; my name is Steve, and I'm powerless over my addiction to food. Today, it's been 72 hours since I took my life back, 72 hours since I took the fork out of my carotid artery, and decided to QUIT committing "suicide by the mouthful." Again.  I need to immerse myself in purpose, in work, in the service of the loving God Who relieved me of the obsession to use, to drink, and I trust will relieve me of the obsession  to overeat.