So, merrily bouncing along, doing the same thing I'd done two weeks ago, I GAINED three-tenths of a pound. Perdition catch my soul! Ah, heck, I knew i wasn't going to drop much, if anything, this week, because it's been a nutty week: dinner late every evening, and way too many calories left at the end of the day..all adds up to "weight gain." Oops. A whole .3 pounds. 4.8oz.

Am I looking at the noose? Am I self-shaming? Am I ready to throw it all away on a visit to Golden Corral?

No.

No.

And, NO!

"Progress, not perfection;" and the practice of  all the Principles in all my endeavors (Thanks, Allison!) As I once saw on an inspirational calendar, "It's not a stumbling block, it's a stepping stone." Or...a foundation stone!

Because, look: since the tail-end of September, yours truly has been engaged in the Battle of the Belt-notch, and I've gained FOUR notches! Yes, indeed, I used to have to PULLLLL to get my belt to hitch at the end hole. Now, I'm on the fifth hole back. Y'know those highly fashionable, railroad-pinstripe bib overalls of which I'm so fond? At the end of rollercoaster season, they were snug. And I'm not saying "merely binding;" I'm talking sausage-tight. (More on that, and rollercoasters, in a second.) Now feast your peepers:

Yeah; there's almost enough spare fabric to make a pair of bibs for Aiden. The tie-dyed shirt I'm wearing? It's stretched out to the shape of my old gut. My old gut and me...longtime acquaintances. "Friends?" Not so much. Oh, he came along with me on vacations and trips, to the pool, to the park, to Kings Island...but he was sort of a fifth wheel, you might say. My Mom would talk to HIM while addressing ME, up north when we went to visit. "You know, Steven, when your grandmother was alive, she'd say how your grandfather's physician would tell him that belly fat would be the death of him." From what I understand, it was. Massive heart attack at 56. Short trip to the Veterans Cemetery out on Long Island. Sadness. I never got to meet the guy. I'd say, "Yeah, Ma, I know, I know, I'm working on it..." My foot. The way I was working on it, if I'd been in charge of the Empire State Building, they'd STILL be working on it. 

Then, summer rolls around to the Heartlands. Pool time, water park time. Arthritis water classes at the YMCA time. Putting on my trunks, I see my barrel-like gut hanging. And, I'm embarrassed, so I put on a tee shirt to cover it. Out of sight, out of mind, no? The one go-to shirt gets tighter and tighter, until I have another one. A larger one. Soon, any shirt I chose was snug. Screw it, I don't know any of these people at the Y;  and oh, yeah, I wore my tee shirt to the water park, too. My 'embarrassment shirt.' They've all seen fat guys before. I'm just one more well-fed chunker. A chunker that wears slip-on shoes because he can't bend over and tie real shoes, and uses the excuse that his replaced toe-joint swells and becomes uncomfortable in real shoes (NOT so much of an excuse, but, hey, it's not all as bad as that.) He can't run and play with his grandson (arthritis notwithstanding) because taking a few running steps would have my heart pounding, my lungs burning, and diaphoresis in full "Holy Crap" mode."Chunker." Humorous, sick attempt at admitting I was one or two shades under "morbidly obese."

I'd mentioned roller coasters. Early on we'd gone to Kings Island. Darn near a graveyard, that day, we had our choice of 'coasters to thrill us. The Beast; Mystic Timbers; Backlot Stunt Coaster...then, the  Flight of Fear. All dizzy and grinning from the previous three rides, we settle into those snug little cars, and watch as one rider ahead of us is approached by one...then two...then three ride attendants, attempting to a) get her lap belt on and b) get the securing bar down into position. One attendant, a girl, leans over and whispers to the patron,  gives her the most sincere and apologetic look I've ever seen, and...in a huff, the girl climbs angrily out of the ride, and storms off in tears. She can't fit safely into the gondola to ride. There were snickers from some riders. And mortification from others. My heart was as still as a mortuary at midnight. I leaned over to Dawn: "Oh my hell, I don't know WHAT I'd do..."

Fast forward to the end of the season. Heading into Haunt Fest and Winter Fest, we want to burn the last of the ''shiny' off our gold passes, when...I can't get the safety bar down over my lap in Flight of Fear. One attendant tries; no go. Another attendant comes over. I'm starting to sweat. She pushes. She shoves. "On three, together," she says. "CLICK!"

I have never been so uncomfortable in my life. Not only was it mortifying to have to get two able-bodied teens to SHOVE me into my little coffin of an amusement ride, but I could barely breathe throughout the few seconds it takes to navigate the track. Dawn doesn't know it. Not yet. I was crying inside, and passed off the visible tears as "wind in my eyes." The rest of the season was similar. It had come to the point at which I'd have to suck in my gut to fit on everything we rode, except the Carousel. Where I'm sure the wooden horses shied sideways when they saw me coming.

But did I stop eating like a gavone? Nope. Like the addict I am, I ate to hide the pain, the self-loathing, the anger, the discomfort. "Hey, if *I* can eat this well, it means that I'm providing for the family I love." Right? No, really, right?

Wrong. *Food is not a reward.* We're not trained animals doing tricks. Our rewards lie elsewhere. But I'm not at the point of pain where getting better hurts less than staying sick. So, laying in bed at night, falling asleep, waking up, falling asleep, tossing, turning, sneaking downstairs for 'another little nip,' I engage in the old, self destructive behavior I've admitted to my Mom, my wife, my VA nutritionist and my VA physician. I've admitted it; I've taken the First Step: I admitted I was powerless. But, half steps, we are warned, avail us nothing. I had to admit that I was powerless AND that my life had become unmanageable. Finally, that visit to Dr Dhingra and the conversation with Dawn, back in September did it.On the 26th of September, 2018, I weighed exactly 254.4 pounds.

That's where the old Steve ends, and the new one begins. And, so what? I gained .03 pounds this past week. Ate, past 1900hrs a few times, accidentally sandbagged my calories until too late, and tried to consume them. Which, as I should remember, is a recipe for illness. DO NOT SLEEP ON YOUR CALORIES. 

And, here I am; a little better for having done what I do, and moderately proud, immensely grateful. IMMENSELY grateful for a loving God, a beautiful wife, an incredible family. 

Thanks for dropping in. Thanks for reading.

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

Hey, look on the bright side!

Hm. This kind of "being a loser" is popping out all kinds of benefits!

I've dropped my 36.5 BMI to 31.6 BMI and gone from Class II to Class I Obesity in 114 Days. If I had weighed 25 more pounds, I'd have been "morbidly obese." In a few more pounds, I'll be merely "overweight." I mean, look at the obesity charts. Everything over 210 pounds in my height range is printed in "Screaming Orange," or shades thereof. Not good. Not good at all. I used to get pissy when people looked at my appreciable mass and say, "Gee; you don't LOOK vegan!" Now, I'm all, "Yeah, you're right; I'm a carb-slut." Or...WAS a carb-slut, that is. To my detriment.

I don't think I can reiterate it enough: find a plan that works for YOU. To paraphrase the Bible, "As for me and my house, we will follow MyFitnessPal." It works for us. We'd tried Atkins (almost killed one another over a piece of bread!) and Dawn's tried WeightWatchers (alone and with a pal) and had neither the weight-loss profile nor the longevity of success of our silly, free-for-NOTHIN' MyFitnessPal app, linked to our Garmin devices.

Now, if you're looking for plug-and-play, or "an easier, softer way," forget it. All recovery takes time, and if you're HONEST, we're in recovery, here. Our lives have become (to one extent or another) unmanageable, and we've a problem saying "No" to food. I mean, what's NOT to love about food? We can make it to our standards and it does everything we want, instantaneously. From hand to mouth, and BAM! We're happy. Or at peace. Or not pissed anymore. Or...name it. Same way addicts use drugs, same way drunks drink. It's not "how I feed my disease," it's that I, indeed, FEED it. And, while MFP is not a magic bullet, or an "Easy" button to push, the work done there is quite simple. One must needs do it, and be diligent about it, and it works.

I've been in a group for a while now that encourages mindful awareness. Conscious, conscientious decision-making. Remaining in the moment. HONEST rewards for HONEST gains. As of 26 September, 2018, I've been taking the "tools" with which I've been blessed and educated, and using them. What a surprise! They actually work! 

Simple example: I'm laying in bed, wide awake, next to my sleeping, darling wife. Pre-9/23/18, I'd slink out of bed, visit the loo, mosey downstairs and look inside the old icebox. A double-doored, 33 cubic foot mother lode of calories! YAY, me! Hmmm...let's see: Last night's dinner leftovers? Nah, too new, someone may be planning on them for lunch in a few hours. The other night's leftovers? Sure, why not? Who's going to miss half a pound of cold mashed potatoes and a couple cups of vegan gravy? Wow, that stuff jiggles like pudding! I'll eat THAT with a spoon, and the potatoes with a little brown mustard...bowl of cereal for dessert. At zero-dark-thirty. That was PRE 9/26/2018. Now, I open up an app: Sacred Space, the daily prayer site run by the Irish Jesuits is a good one. Prayer, scripture, inspiration. All there, in one page, with MUSIC, too. Or "Alcoholics Anonymous," online. Or BibleGateway.com. Something. ANYTHING to get me out of a bad moment, and into a good one. God forbid I actually do the breathing exercises I've been shown. Anything that short-circuits my urge to go and eat is better than going and eating. Because I feel badly about cheating that @#$&! MyFitnessPal calorie tracker. You see, back in the beginning, I plugged in how much I weigh, how much I WANT to weigh, and some other info, and let the app tell me how many calories a day I'd need to consume, and how many steps I'd need to take to get there. And, I've grown accustomed to being brutally honest with that app. And, I'm glad. The results speak for themselves.  

And, I'm still walking; no less than 2 miles a week. This week, it was after a noon AA meeting; and, because we tend to chat after a meeting, I was pushing my window a little, so going to the Mall was out. I headed to Atrium for their walking path. Which hadn't been plowed. So I went to the YMCA down the street from the Middletown VA CBOC. Which has no walking track. Dang. Now what? Here's what: walk outside! Why the hell not? We walked a 5K in 28-degree weather. It was only 38 degrees this particular day. Big difference. Look at the data on the bottom of the pic: UNDER 15 minutes/mile (by mere seconds, but...) which is better than my inside walking average.

And, my official weigh-in? 220#. For a total loss of 34.4# in 114 days. One third of a pound/day. 2.08 pounds/week. (Again, a shameful reminder of how "sleeping on your calories is quite blatantly akin to "sleeping with the enemy.")

So, I'd opened with "Look on the bright side." Let's do a fast tally.

1. Lower weight
2. Lower BMI
3. Higher life expectancy
4. Tighter bonds with my beautiful, Proverbs wife
5. More time spent outside with our sons and daughters
6. Stronger body (walking and even a small amount of jogging)
7. More fun (5k's are incredibly entertaining!)
8. Better sleep
9. Better quality sleep
10. Better lab results
11. Happier doctors
12. Inspired friends
13. Closer ties to my personal sobriety
14. Closer walk with God
15. Beating psoriatic, osteoarthritis and CPPD arthritis
16. Better overall feeling about what we eat.

There's a Step in AA which ends "...and practice these principles in all our affairs." It's true. Once I'd faced the fact that I'm an addictive-type eater, and worked the Steps against that addiction, life began to change. For the better. Is it easy? No. Progress takes work. Is it instantaneous? Again: no. Time takes time. I didn't get fat overnight, I won't get fit overnight. I have to do the work. But, I am. And it's fun, and worth it. Trust me.

Until next time, be well, practice peace and I'll see you at the next one.   

A glimpse into the October Country

Yeah, well. It happens to us all. I have to be honest, the last few weeks have been a roller coaster (and, we're not talking The Beast, or Mystic Timbers.) As almost any recovering addict can tell you, we all have a touch of clinical "something" running around inside our heads, whether we're making a stand against alcohol, drugs, gambling, food, or what-have-you. And, under stress, the monsters grow teeth and claws and LOUD friggin' voices. LOUD. And they hone their skills as ventriloquists. Yeah, apart from the voices inside our heads, voices from outside, voices from our past, come sneaking (like the Kool Aid Man bursting through a wall, or with all of the tact and poise of a rutting bull in a china shop) to make our days absolutely stellar and sparkly.

I'm not going to bore you with details. But I WILL say that I've seriously considered asking for a prescription of Zoloft or Paxil. And, at the very apogee of my agonies, Pastor Larry again visited the Book of Mark. Chapter 6, specifically, verses 40-52. Jesus was up on a hill, praying, and SAW his disciples straining against the wind. Now, here's a small bit of the history surrounding that particular event: Jesus had just finished feeding five thousand people with a couple of fish and some bread. Then, "constraining his disciples to get into the boat and sail ahead" to the other side of the sea," they hove to, and started the crossing. Galilee is about five miles wide, and eight miles long. "In the fourth watch," or at about 0300 hours, when they were "about halfway across," He noticed them. "Halfway across" (either way, 2.5 miles or 4 miles: YOU pick) and in the dark of night.

Let that soak in. Storm blowing mightily, rain, wind, darkness (and we have to assume that, for all His deity, Jesus was part human) exhaustion, and He SAW his guys struggling.

"He came toward them, walking on the water...saying 'Take courage, it is I, be not afraid.'"

"Be not afraid." As Pastor Larry asks, and as I may have asked, before, who's in YOUR boat? Who calms YOUR storm? After you've punched the wall, flipped a table, kicked the stuffed animal across the room, to whom do YOU turn for comfort, solace, peace? The scratch-off? The fork? The bottle?

Do you pray? Pastor John once said how praying, sometimes, is hard. When it's all in a flat spin, it's hard to muster up the words. "My Lord and my God" is a prayer. It acknowledges Jesus' position in our lives, and His deity, his supremacy. Hang your head, cross your arms over your sobbing chest, and say it: my Lord and my God. Breathe deep, let it sink in and take root. KNOW that He is God, and He's in your boat, in your corner, hanging onto your shoulder as you suffer, telling you, "Be not afraid."

By way of this prelude, I make an admission: After a certain "voice from the past" rattled my cage, I was reaching. That icebox looked like Vegas and I had a pocket full of cash. The wine rack was a temptation, and I know where the corkscrew hides.

I also have my sponsor's phone number. I have the Big Book, the 12 & 12, the Bible, a meeting app, and my beautiful, wonderful, understanding wife. Upon whose breast I've cried, often. A couple of times this week, in fact. But I don't need to pick up. Thank you, Butch, for those helpful words: "No matter what comes down around you, DON'T PICK UP."

I didn't pick up. Anything. Nothing bad, anyway. Not even food. I did what I do most often when it's touch-and-go. I internalized, slept poorly, and, after a while, remembered who's in my "boat." My Lord, and my God.

That said, not having stuffed my rage and anxiety, I ditched 2.2 pounds, after all. Not so bad. Look:

Years, it's been. Years, that I've been in group counseling with a bunch of fine gentlemen. And finally, I'm catching on. Breathe deep, relax, and bask in the serenity, courage and wisdom I've prayed for (and received) all these years. 

Therein, the lesson is: settle in. It's going to happen: good stuff, not-so-good stuff, stuff that makes us happy, unhappy, confident, confused. Be not afraid; accept that a power greater than yourself is in charge. He's got this. He's got YOU, no matter how big or small your problems are. He will bring you through it, and guide you to the wash racks to hose off the mud and slime when you're done. (Reference to the old days, when the wash racks were the last stop before the motor pool. When you'd hit the wash racks, you KNEW you were finally home.)

Another week or two, another pound or two. It's all good. And, it's progress. And, a reminder that our addictions and temptations needn't be the pitfalls they used to be. Tell the voices in your head to shut up; tell the ones on the phone that you're hanging up, now, and to handle their own crap. Sadly bid adieu to the ones that have been requisitioning your time but doing nothing with the answers they've sought. Eat your calories (sandbagging does nothing for weight loss) and no more than your calories (because overeating/stuffing doesn't help, either!) and stay busy. Slow and steady. Be not afraid.

Be not afraid; He is with you. 

Write that on your mirror. Make a post-it and stick it to your screen. Write it on your hand. It's good to remember. And, btw, you can always contact me and I'll remind you. It does us all well, to stick together. 

So, until next time: Be well; practice peace; see you at the next one. 

Well, ladies, gentlemen and off-planet visitors, I survived the major portion of the holidays with a LOSS! Yippee! And, STILL, I'm not hungry or feeling deprived. Dawn and I were out, taking care of stuff and we dropped into the Middletown Veterans Administration CBOC, and I stepped on the OFFICIAL scale, and...

 And, that ain't hay. I'm hitting an average of 2.3 pounds per week, lost. And walking more, I've ditched the use of my blue "H" tag, and only use it when Mother is in the car. Or, I drop her at the door, and park where I will, then bring the car back around when it's time to leave. I CAN walk, so I DO. (Plus, I'm not going to 'get my steps' if I don't walk. And, Dawn and I have been more regular visitors to the YMCA in Springboro. Village People were right: it IS fun to go to the YMCA. Aiden has basketball practice and games; his Dad gets to coach and play; we get to power-walk and use the machines. Boo-yah! 

But, THIS week...despite my BEST distance measured...despite my most concerted efforts...

I gained. 0.9 pound. Only 9/10ths, but, it's a GAIN! Oh, my hell, the disappointment. PISSED! "How the he** did this HAPPEN?!?"

Dawn asked that same thing, quietly: "What did you do, what HAVE you been doing?"

And, it came to me. It hit me like a load of cold mashed potatoes in my lap.

I 'game the system.' I eat a meager breakfast. I eat a meager lunch.  This way, if we have something really nice and tasty for dinner, I can live large. Oh, yeah, I still have 1500 calories, and it's 19:00!!! Uh huh. And I consume those calories and...

I sleep on them. Which is exactly how I got FAT in the first place. Remember back in August, I was eating dinner, then getting up and eating dinner SECONDS. Then, as I put up Dawn's lunch, I would snack here and there. Then I'd have another snack, watching TV. Then we'd go to bed. I'd sleep a while, get up to read the paper (because I'd set a bad precedent of 'needful eating') and eat MORE dinner. To the point of, "Oh, just one bowl of..." got to be "Heck, there's no sense in putting THAT back in the icebox." So, I'd polish off a container of pasta, or half a loaf of bread with olive oil and nootch (*nutritional yeast) and maybe half a pound of grapes, or a couple of bowls of cereal. No, seriously, look back: it's documented. I think. If not, it is, now. And, then...I'd wash the dishes and dry them, so Dawn wouldn't see how many dishes I'd dirtied in the middle of the night. (A little bit of the old addict coming out, eh?) Thereafter, I'd go back to bed, grunting and groaning silently, like an overstuffed feeder pig. Not pretty. And, true to my alcoholic nature, I'd lay there in guilt. 

Which is exactly what's happened in the last few weeks. Even though I'm under my Garmin and MyFitnessPal calorie levels, and I'm moving, and walking, and DOING more...I'm not happy. I gained. 

Now, my princess is a diet tech (registered.) She had warned me about 'saving calories' and it catching up to bite me in the butt. Did I listen? Noooooo. Me and my big ideas, eh? Then, she asks how much I poured on, and I tell her: just under a pound. To which my pretty baby shakes her head in disgust. See, she's battled self-image and weight all her life (bullying, derision and teasing all do that to a kid.) She's not DISGUSTED disgusted. Just a little laughably tweaked, because 9/10 of a pound isn't a whole lot of anything, in the long run. It's a stepping stone, not a stumbling block. A page, not a chapter. An eye-opener. 

Consider my eyes opened. Dawn had asked if I had any resolutions for the year. I didn't.

Now, I do. "To practice these principles in all my endeavors." Follow the steps. ALL of them. It's all good. God is good, all the time. Elsewise I wouldn't be celebrating another birthday, today. Yessir-ee-Bob, I'm 29 years clean and sober by the grace of God. My AA Birthday.  Until next time...

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

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.