The Jogging Clydesdale

Glimpses of darkness; Discovery of light

2012-02-08T12:55:00.000-05:00

I've not had a lot to say lately. Well, that's not true. I've not had a lot to say lately about my weight loss and self discovery journey. My mind and thoughts have been elsewhere.

I find that I write a lot about hating myself. I enjoy writing the conversations with the Left Hand Guy. Those are real and visceral expressions of what is going on inside my mind. But when I get right down to brass tacks...I don't really hate myself. I am often, perhaps constantly, dissapointed in myself. I often don't like myself for making the same mistakes and bad judgement over and over again. I often tell myself self defeating things, especially about my weight and whatnot.

But the truth is, I think I'm a nice guy. I think I'm a good guy. I like the man I've become and I've been working on it since I was 14. That's when my dad sat me down and told me that he was done raising me. He said, "I've taught you right from wrong. I've taught you how to treat others. I've tried to teach you integrity and honesty. But from here, it's up to you to determine what kind of man you want to be."

Now, I'm sure I'm relating that story with some dramatic effect, but that is gist of what he said to me some 25 years ago. And of course he wasn't done raising me. He still isn't. What he was doing was letting me go...just a little...to find my own way. And I did, eventually.

It is, to be truthful, difficult for me to say that I love myself. My own baggage and depression make barriers. But I do like who I am. Right now, in life, I'm happy with who I am though I am discouraged by my weaknesses. My weight and my emotional control with food are some of those perceived weaknesses. But I'm learning I am not helpless in those areas either.

These are the kind of thoughts that have been on my mind. And it comes on the experience of my wife's journey. I had never known the depths to which someone could truly hate oneself; to truly be filled with emptyness and blackness; to truly not see one's beauty inside or out even after having been with her for 20 years now. I have glimpsed this in someone that I love and it breaks my heart.

It gives me perspective. And it gives me a source of strength to know this about myself. And it gives me a foundation to work on while I make this journey with my wife.

Like I said when I started this post, I find I write a lot about hating myself. What if that is just a crutch, an excuse to continue on this road without finding any destination? A shell to hide what I really feel and am afraid to experience? Self love. Self success. Genuine pride and genuine humility in oneself. These things can be scarier to write about than self hate.

Way In

2012-02-08T12:11:00.002-05:00

Today: 299#
+/- Last checkin: -2
+/- Baseline: -21

There were some scheduling difficulties in January so this Way In is three weeks from the last one instead of two. Considering how January went, I am pleased with a two pound difference over that span of time. It is witness to the strength of control I did have during that time. Plus, now the 300 pound barrier is broken and I know from past experience that is a huge milestone.

Other things I've noticed:
1 pant size smaller
More comfortable in a car seat
Can get my arms around more of my wife and kids
I can tie my shoes by bending over
Worry less about what I'm going to eat at the next meal (while eating the current meal)
I notice when I am satiated more often
Have more energy and look forward to exercise and (eep!) yoga.
And I find true pride in what I've accomplished.

Isn't it interesting

2012-01-27T00:46:00.000-05:00

My wife is home and is doing ok. She'll have some intensive therapy over the course of several months (if not years). She's got a real chance at some healing. Not cured, but real healing. If she wants to do the work.

What's interesting is the last three weeks have been probably my most stressful three weeks of my life. My wife was ill. She did not have adequate health insurance via her employer. We are looking at a bill of more than $100,000. My job is changing. My kids have needs. Bills need to be paid. And on and on and on.

Yet, through all of this, I did not binge. Now, I wasn't perfect. I had my days of falling off the low carb wagon. But I did not binge.

Until tonight.

It's almost as if now that I can let go of keeping it all together, I crash and burn right back to the pantry. And fridge. And freezer.

Yeah. I know. Give myself a break. And I do. It's been a hell of a month. And then some.

But, honestly, something happens every week where I can say "Give myself a break".

I want to stop giving myself a break before I break myself.

Way In

2012-01-18T18:41:00.000-05:00

Today: 301#
+/- last check in: -11
+/- baseline: -19

I determined that for every 20 pounds from baseline (with wiggle room for a pound on either side of 20), I'll post a pic. You have been warned.

For comparison I've added my baseline pic.

I don't see much difference, but I sure can fell it.

Conversations in my head

2012-01-15T19:40:00.000-05:00

You've had a rough new year.

Oh crap.
I don't have time
for you right now.

You got me wrong, dude.
I'm not here to give you a hard time.

Really?

Yeah. You're not the only one changing.
Don't get me wrong. I'm still gonna be there
making your life miserable as much as I can.
But for now, I'm telling you, you get a pass.

I don't trust you.

Dude, I don't expect you to, but
we're all rooting for you.

All?

Yeah. Thin Me is here and Fat Me too.

Thin Me: Hey.

Fat Me: Hiya.

Hey guys.

I'm still confused.

Look. We've been watching you and...

Thin Me: Hey before we get going here, we
gotta give you a name.

Fat me: How about Left Hand Guy?

Left Hand Guy: I can live with that.
As I was saying, we've been watching you.

FM: You're changing.

TM: You're growing.

FM: No fat jokes! Oh, I get what
you're saying. Never mind.

LHG: And whether we like it or not, we're along for the ride

I still don't understand.
What are you doing here?

Why are you all talking to me?

FM: Well, first off, it sounds like you need some help.
My job would have been to feed you food. But...

TM: I've been able to talk him out of it, for the most part.

FM: And I've been listening to TM.

LHG: And I just don't have the heart to kick a man when
he's down. Well, actually I do, but these other
two have been keeping me in check.

Ok. Sure. Life has been stressful. I appreciate

the break guys, but...
this is a little crazy.
Even for me.

ALL: But we heard what you said, Kevin.

What?

FM: To the mirror.

TM: When you usually say to yourself, that
you have kind eyes.

LHG: But tonight you said...

You have sad eyes.

LHG: Yes.

TM: And we just thought...

FM: That you needed a hug.

Ok. This is really getting weird.

Did I take my pills this morning?

FM: You really don't get it do you?

LHG: You're the one who said that we are ME.

Yeah, but...

TM: There is no but. Whether you like it or not
we are US, we are WE. And
you're getting a reprieve.

LHG: And I have to tell you, I'm surprised with you.

Why?

LHG: Because FM has been knocking at your door
for two weeks and you've not given him a lot of face time.

FM: I don't mind. Actually I think it's a good thing.
I just wanted to let you know I was there if you
needed me.

Um. Thanks?

FM: No probs.

LHG: And you've been ignoring me, except
for that whole fear of financial ruin thing. I admit that
was low, even for me.

TM: LHG, you really are a jerk.

LHG: I know, but we're not here to talk about me.
We're here to talk about ME.

But, how are we gonna give us a hug?

TM: It's a metaphor, dum dum.

LHG: Oooo there's something I want to say here,
but I'll hold our tongue.

FM: I wish I had brought ice cream.

TM: Well, that's our cue. Time for us to go.

Really? I was just getting getting used

to the fact that we were talking to us.

LHG: All the better to stop before people
start thinking you're strange in the head.

FM: Rocky Road, Cookie Dough. Ooo, I know, Butter Brickle.

TM: We gotta go.

FM: I'll be here if you need me, but I don't
think you will.

LHG: And remember, I'll be back, and
I'm still a jerk. But if you can change,
I'm only going to change with you.

TM: He doesn't really have a choice.

FM: None of us do. You're the one in driver's seat.

ALL: And let your eyes be sad. Sad is not bad.

Ok guys. I'm not sure what to say.

ALL: Don't worry about it.

Superheroes

2012-01-10T11:20:00.001-05:00

Sometimes life's problems can be tempered by a daughter who wants to hold your hand. Sometimes you get to return the favor in the same way.

I wrote that as my Facebook status last night. It's been a rough week.

My youngest daughter turned 12 yesterday. I took her in to see her mom at the hospital, briefly, so that she didn't have to turn 12 completely without her mother.

My wife was recovering from a treatment that left her with a severe headache. On a 1-10 scale, she reported it as 10. And my wife does not exaggerate about pain. She was able to shower some love on my daughter and visit, but her pain was so much that we didn't stay long. On our way out, I stopped at the nurses station to advocate for my wife. What pain relief meds were they giving her? What had the doctor ordered? Come to find out that the doctor was working off of his partner's notes from last week. That doctor had ordered prescription strength Motrin. What was missing was the nurse anaesthetist's chart who had ordered something stronger. Much stronger. So she was, in effect, being under treated. The nurses were hurriedly trying to find the nurse anaesthetist's chart so they could contact the doctor--they were doing their job and I won't have anyone think they weren't.

But what I didn't notice while I was advocating was my daughter. Not until one of the nurses looked down and asked if she needed a tissue. She had been quietly crying because her mom was so sick, was in so much pain, because she missed her so much. And I had missed it. The moment I turned my attention to her, the sobbing started. And I felt awful.

We left the hospital, her hand in mind. She cried. She talked. I listened. I talked. And every time I let go to steer, to adjust a mirror, to do whatever, my daughter grabbed my hand back. I don't want to say this is abnormal for her, but she has always had the strength of self determination and a strong independent streak (really, since she was about 6) so it was notable.

Slowly I realized that she was comforting me as much as I was comforting her. And I began to think about my kids. They've been through so much more than I have. I have a grown up's emotional health and a grown up's understanding to deal with my wife's issues. My kids have had to learn such things at an early age and in great difficulty.

Sure, they squabble as much as any siblings. But they take care of each other, too. My older daughter took the time to help the youngest do her math last night. My son, took the time to make the others laugh; to entertain them and take their mind off of things. The youngest will do small favors like getting a can of pop or taking a sibling's basket of clothes to their room for them. And last night, all three of them, slept in my oldest daughter's room, simply because it was comforting to do so.

And I realized that they take care of me too. They are all worried about my health. They hide food from me. Seriously. They hide the snack foods such as popcorn and chips. And I ask them why and they say because they want to help. I talk to them and make sure they don't feel responsible when I fail and they say they don't. They just want to help. They say good job when I exercise. They tell me I'm not fat, I'm big boned.

I've been thinking a lot about how I would carry on without my wife. And how to take care of my kids. Last night it brought it into focus that my kids are old enough that I can let them take care of me, in small ways.

Even if it's as simple as holding my hand, when I'm hurting too.

My kids are superheroes.

Way In

2012-01-06T09:55:00.001-05:00

Today: 312#
+/- last check in: +2#
+/- baseline: -8#

Lots of factors to consider. The holidays, the stress from Mrs. Clydesdale's hospitaliztion and the fact I forgot my morning meds two days in a row before my weigh in (including my water pill). I am pleased with this. After taking my meds, my weight at home was the same as 2 weeks ago.

Now, however, it is time to get back at ti.

In Brief

2012-01-02T19:00:00.000-05:00

Wife admitted to hospital for issues related to her problems from 2010
Sixty-six yo mother admitted to hospital for pneumonia. Given her cancer and other issues, she is in PCU.
I am not doing well.

Giving Up Hope (in order to gain even more)

2011-12-31T00:53:00.001-05:00

I've come across a quote quite a lot over the last year. It varies in its composition and who it's attributed to, but the essence is always the same:

Forgiveness means giving up all hope for a different past.

I like it.

It's simple to imagine but so difficult to live by. But really, I don't think it goes far enough. There is a lot that means giving up all hope for a different past.

Living in the present means giving up all hope for a different past.

Moving forward means giving up all hope for a different past.

Accepting the past means giving up all hope for a different past.

Loving myself means giving up all hope for a different past.

Letting go means finally giving up all hope for a different past.

It is so difficult to let go of ancient hurts and aging anger. Somehow if one does, one gets the feeling that one is letting the other off the hook. Even if the one and the other are the same person. Especially if the one and the other are the same person.

I'm finding it easier, though, as I continue this journey, to find ways to practice this. While my last post may not be the best example, the truth is that once I wrote it out, I let it go. Christmas 2011 is in the past and I cannot possibly hope that I will do anything different.I know the past/present/future tenses can get rather convoluted. But as I sit here contemplating not just last weekend but the whole of 2011, I can't think of anything so infused with such simple truth.

I don't think much of New Years Resolutions, so here is my resolve to accept my past:

With all my faults,
with all my health problems, with my weight and fat,

with my weakness, with my failures,
with all that works to hold me back...
to finally accept all of this as part of myself
and to forgive
and to let go
and to live in the now
and to move forward
and to love myself

means giving up all hope for a different past.

In this way, I do indeed give up.

And giving up hope for the past allows me to hope for the present

and the future.

Happy New Year everyone.

Let's all let go of the old year, m'kay?

Post Christmas Blues

2011-12-27T18:00:00.000-05:00

So Christmas has come and gone. And I'm feeling guilty. And it's pissing me off.

My plan for eating over the holidays was simple. No limits. Simple as that. I knew that the three family meals I was going to be at would have my most favorite foods. I knew that the snacking table would be loaded with my favorite salty snacks. I knew better than to say to myself Deny Deny Deny and then circle the drain of a shame cycle.

So I went with my eyes wide open, ready to enjoy three days of celebration with my families. I made the decision to not deny myself. I gave myself permission to ... well, there's no other way to put it except to say PIG OUT.

And, as it was, I didn't.

I snacked all day, but I wasn't stuffing snacks in by the fistful. No, I grazed and not at a constant rate, just every now and again.

I ate what I wanted at the meals, and damn the carbs. But I was satiated after the first serving. So I stopped and did not stuff myself to the point of pain. There was no feelings of scarcity or thoughts of "get it now while you can cause you don't know when you can do this again." I simply had enough.

I did not take leftovers home with me, despite my mother saying it would just spoil at her house (it won't; she'll freeze it). I knew that this freedom I'd allowed myself was limited. Taking it home would have meant extending that freedom.

All in all, it was a good weekend. I should be proud that I gave myself permission rather than scold myself for failing in the face of such temptation. I should be proud that I stopped when I was satisfied and didn't keep eating for eating's sake.

But I'm not. I am unhappy. I'm in a shame cycle anyway.

And it pisses me off.

I gained 10 pounds according to the home scales. Now, intellectually I know it is impossible to put 10 pound of fat on in a weekend. I know it is water binding with all the carbs I ate to form the glycogen molecule. I know it is the food as it's being, um, processed. I know that it is the effect of my three days of permission...of going off program...of the very thing I made a clear and conscious decision to do.

But, damn. 10 pounds?

I hear the left hand side of the conversations in my head. And he's laughing. He makes me feel like I'm not taking it seriously. Like I'm just doing it for show. After all, I'm only three weeks out from recommitting to the program.

But that's his job, even when he's wrong.

So, enough.

The weekend is over and it cannot be changed. I enjoyed myself as I wanted and allowed. I know that these bad feelings will pass as time goes on. I accept this pain and will not suffer.

I move forward. I look back not by turning my head, but by looking through the rear view mirror.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

2011-12-23T16:42:00.002-05:00

From all of in the stable, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

-TJC

Way In

2011-12-22T10:58:00.001-05:00

Today: 310#
+/- last check in: -10#
+/- baseline: -10#

It's both harder and easier than I remember.

Conversations in my head

2011-12-20T18:38:00.001-05:00

So, you're back on "the program" are you?

Yeah.

Feeling good?

Yeah.

Doing ok so far?

Mostly, yeah.

You're not going to be able to do it, day in and day out.

I know.

You're eventually gonna eat more than you should.

I know.

You're gonna have days where you just don't want to exercise.

I know.

You're going to screw up.

I know.

You are going to fail.

I know.

You a...what?

I know all these things.

I'm not perfect.

We're not perfect.

So why do it?

Because most days, I will eat right.

Most days I will exercise.

Most days I will be good enough.

Most days I will succeed.

Yeah, but "most days" means some days you will fall.
And I'll be right there to make you feel like shit.

I know.

Aren't you scared?

Yeah. But I do not fear you.

Dude, don't you get it?

I'm in a better place.

I can look at you and not fear you.

I know you now better than I ever have.

Sure I'm scared that it won't work in the end, but

I do not fear trying.

I do not fear facing you and

Telling you to go to hell

When I need to.

I won't make it easy for you.

I wouldn't expect anything less.

You are a part of me.

You always will be.

But, what I've decided...

What?

I've decided that I'm not doing
This to prove you wrong.

I'm doing it for me.

And you.

Me?

Yeah.
You serve a purpose. You make me

Question. Inquire. Challenge.

Learn. Live. Love.

You are not evil.

You + me = ME.

And I'm ready

To make ME

Something new.

Something old.

Something real.

Something happy.

You're a tool.

Ha!

I know. So are you.

You coming?

New Directions or What the heck am I doing?

2011-12-18T15:52:00.003-05:00

This is going to be a long post. Iconsidered breaking it up in several sections, but there never seemedto be a logical place to say “to be continued.” So you're gettingit all in one dreary post.

It's been just over a week since Irestarted the hospital weight loss program. I thought I'd write abit about the program itself in more detail. I foresee that some of my future posts willinclude writing about my personal journey in this program. I wantedto give you all a glimpse as to what it is I'm actually doing and the supportI get from the hospital as I go forward so you all have an idea ofjust what the heck it is that I'm talking about.

The New Directions program is designed,first and foremost, for the morbidly obese. It is not for those whohave 10-20 pounds to lose. It is for those patients whose weight isseriously affecting their health. There are risks, real risks, butthose risks must be balanced against the risk of staying overweight. For me, there is the risk of becoming diabetic. There is also damage being done to my heart because of my blood pressure right now, so getting the weight off is a very key component in stopping and possibly repairing that damage.

It is alow carb program. A patient starts off with 3 protein shakes a day,plus a lean meat and low carb vegetable for a meal (most choosesupper). The goal is to stay below about 50 g of carbs a day. Thatis ridiculously low. But the goal is to get the body into ketosis.

Now, I don't claim to understandexactly what ketosis is, but I know diabetics avoid it like theplague It's when your body has used up most of the glucose in themuscles, the body starts burning the fat. It also starts burningmuscle as part of the process, which is why protein is very importanton this diet. The process also puts several different products inthe bloodstream which, if unchecked, can damage the liver andkidneys.

(At this point, I am probably worryingmy readers. Hang on...hear me out.)

It is important to drink 64 to 108 oz of water a day toflush the waste from the blood and keep the kidneys functioning. That, plus 2/3 of the glucose molecule is water, it means you're inthe restroom a lot. The program makes use of the body's own processof using the fat stores but turning it up to eleven.

That's how I understand the process asit happens in the body. And I'm sure I have greatly simplified it.

Now, the program is done in thehospital. There is a health screening before one is accepted. It isdirected by a nurse practitioner, overseen by acardiologist/internist, and has a staff of registered dieticians (I prefer that spelling),personal trainers and two other nurse practitioners. Once a monththe patient meets with a NP for essentially a health check up, justas one might see a doctor for a health and wellness checkup. Labsare drawn every month for 6 months to keep an eye on the kidney andliver. After 6 months, if there no indications of problems, labs aredrawn every other month.

Now, to the meat and potatoes of itall, so to speak. Once a week the patient checks in. Weight andblood pressure is measured. This is when the patient purchases theshakes. The patient then meets with someone on the staff, usuallythe dietician, to go over the week prior. We review what we did forexercise and how often. We talk about problems encountered, feelingsof success and failure, answer questions the patient might have andso on. It is also the time the staff asks questions geared to elicitinformation about the patient's general health and the director isnotified if there is any change in health.

After the review, the patient attendsclass. These are real, in-depth classes covering nutrition,exercise, general health and emotional health. The last was alwaysdifficult because I feel the emotional connection to food is soooooodeep, it really can't be addressed in a group setting. Plus, thespeaker has some woo woo ideas that I just couldn't always buy into, but more often than not was extremely helpful. Participation in the classesare mandatory if the patient wants to continue. However, some patients, like me, have been through thecurriculum several times. These patients get excused from class if thedirector is comfortable that we “get it.”

Once the patient reaches his or hergoal, maintenance begins. The patient works with a dietician to weenoff the shakes and on to real food, using the lessons learned inclass and specific work to the situations that arise. This goes forat least 6 months minimum. After that, the patient comes in for acheckup once a month for 6 months. If the patient is stillmaintaining the loss, he or she comes in once a quarter for a year. Then the patient is asked to come in twice a year after that.

Once you're in the program, you're infor life (or so long as the hospital funds the program). One canvisit any class after the weight loss, purchase the products, meetwith a dietician or nurse practitioner as needed or just simply callin if one needs a little encouragement.

I know some of you are skeptical ofshake based programs. I was too. But the medical supervision, theeducational component and the accountability has removed a lot ofthat skepticism for me. Eighty percent of their patients havemaintained their weight-loss a year after meeting their goal. Thatwas a statistic I couldn't ignore. If it hadn't been necessary forme to quit midstream last fall, I have no doubt that the transitionto maintenance would have happened.

I'm NOT sure it would have beensuccessful though.

I had a lot of work to do in selfacceptance, self love and accepting & understanding emotionalconnections to food. In many ways I look at the last year as a timeto work on these aspects without the stress of weight-loss I am muchmore confident restarting the program because of this work. And Ihave my readers and fellow bloggers to thank for that. I would notbe at this point to begin anew if it hadn't been for yourencouragement and understanding.

That's it in a nutshell. Later I'll write about my personal adaptation to this program. It isn't quite a severe as the description above sounds.

Ask me any questions you might have. I'mgoing to add a link to my email somewhere on the blog if you don'twant to ask via a comment. I believe in this program. That in itself will take me a long way towards success.

Even Briefer

2011-12-15T12:20:00.000-05:00

2 months ago I went to my GP
This was 7 weeks before I restarted the program
Went again today to the GP
I have lost 22 pounds since that first visit
Wow
Did not see that coming

In Brief

2011-12-14T12:59:00.001-05:00

Just got back from my wife's Rheumatologist.

He did diagnose Lupus....but mild. No organ degeneration or immediate concerns. It may get worse, it may go into remission or it may stay exactly the same the rest of her life, so follow ups every quarter from now on.
He also diagnosed Fibromyalgia which more of an immediate concern inasmuch to get ahead of the pain.
The doctor really dumbed it down for us, which was a little insulting,
But, as my wife pointed out, he has no idea she's an RN.
Still, it bothered me enough to share it here.

I take this as rather good news. My wife not as relieved (and understandably so).
My first thought upon hearing the news was not "lets celebrate and pig out" but was, oddly, "I need to run."
Seriously.
I think some real changes are happening.
It's a little scary.

The Leibster Blogger Award

2011-12-13T13:06:00.000-05:00

Wow.

I scarcely know what to say or how to begin.

Yesterday I received a huge surprise. I happened tofollow Before & After author Karen C. L. Anderson's link she posted to her blog via Facebook. I wondered why she tagged me in that FB link. I just figured she wrote about something shethought I’d enjoy.

Instead I found this post and learned I had been given an award.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasdumbfounded. I was speechless. I was honored. I was humbled. And yes, I was overjoyed!

Karen has been following TJC for just over a year now and Ihave always enjoyed her comments and trusted her insights. Her blog is truly oneof my top 3 blogs I go to for inspiration. And her book even more so. She tells her story of not merely losing weight, but coming to love andaccept herself, and finding success in that journey. I often find her to be at the place I hope to be someday. And yet, she stumbles and bumps like the restof us—and she shares that too.

Thank you Karen.

The Leibster Blogger Award (Leibster being German fordearest) is designed for bloggers with less than 200 followers. From what I can tell, the award goes back toat least 2006. It’s changed and mutated a bit according the “rules” but itseems like it is always has been for those “up and comers” with smallreaderships—those blogs that others believe should have a widerreadership. And like most of these blogawards, it comes with some instructions:

Thank the donor and link back to their blog
Describe your five choices for the award and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog
Post the award on your blog
Encourage the people who receive it to list their five favorites

For my 5, I’m not sure if thewinners will even recognize me as a reader of their blogs. See, I do a lot of lurking, but most oftendon’t comment unless I truly believe I can add something to the article orcomment conversations. And I don’talways have the wherewithal to follow them consistently. But each of the 5 I’m passing the awardforward to have, in some way, inspired me.

First there is Farida at Saints & Spinners. She is one of two IRLfriends whose blogs I follow. Well, Isay IRL, but we haven’t seen each other since college. And we’re not sure that we ever spoke witheach other there either despite the several classes we had together. It’s a long story that perhaps I’ll tell oneday. Suffice it to say that a serendipitousreconnect 4 years ago online has become one of the strongest friendships I have.

Farida is a musical story teller in Seattle,as well as a craft maker who sells items on Etsy. Her blog is a little bit storytelling, alittle bit crafting, a little bit about her life, a little bit book review anda little bit about whatever interests her. Lately fitness has become a big interest and has trained for a 5K aswell as a competition to race up the stairs of one of Seattle’s largestskyscrapers. And she writes a little bitabout that too.

Frankly speaking, if it weren’t forFarida hanging in there with me from the beginning of my first blog andfollowing me over to the stable, I’m sure I would not be blogging now. She gets this award for truly being my dearest blogger friend. And my IRL friend too.

Second comes Big Clyde at The Clydesdale Project. Big Clydeunderstands what it is to be, well, a big guy trying to get his health back andhis weight down. Often times our storiesare parallel enough to be scary. Hewrites about his cycling, but also interweaves his life and work in a seamlessway. And the thing I most appreciate inBC is dedication to being a father and husband first. It’s nice to read about a fellow dad in this here health & fitness blogosphere (not that other guys aren’t great dads; just that I findvery few who write about it). In BC I’vefound a friend not only on our respective blogs but also at Dailymile.com where the encouragementis needed oftentimes.

Third in my list is Samantha atRun4Fun2 which might be somewhat of a surprise for her as I don’t think I’veever left a comment on her blog. Samantha keeps her blog pretty limited to her training and racing,though sometimes she lets us have a peek at her life too. I enjoy reading her reports because they areso descriptive. Whereas a lot of runnerswrite about their splits and fartleks and tempo runs and a lot of jargon thatgoes over my head, she writes about her runs. About what she saw. What sheexperienced. Sometimes about what shefelt. More than any other blogger Iread, her posts make me “experience” her runs.

Fourth is Amanda at It’s All About the Walls. Again, another blogger that Ithink might be surprised as I rarely leave comments over there too. I’ve been trying to put my finger on exactlywhat it is about her blog. The onlything I can really think of, and I really, really hope she’s not offended bythis, is what I recognize as a nerdy sense of humor. She really puts her life out there, speakingrather matter of fact (though with exquisite humor) about her healthissues. She also writes about what’sgoing on in her life and her struggles with losing weight. She’s often over here at the stable to lendme some encouragement; I often wish that I had the words to reciprocate back onher blog. As one commenter wrote to me here at the stable, always reading evenif I seldom write.

Finally is a blogger who I am surewill be surprised. Kendra over at I’mTotally the Turtle is my final pick. She’snot been blogging a lot lately as she’s in the final months of her pregnancy(or perhaps even beyond that for a bit). And, honestly, when I was going through my battles with depression anddidn’t have the energy to read other blogs, hers was one that fell by thewayside. However, I love her voice inwhat she writes. She writes with asimple honesty. She writes about herstruggles with weight and health issues, but also being a mom, a wife, a woman. She writes about being herself. She shares little tidbits of inspiring quotesand other bits of what she finds around the web. I hope that she finds her way back toblogging.

There were many others that I could have,perhaps should have, included. But theseare the writers with small followings that I go to time and time again when Ineed inspiration.

And that concludes The JoggingClydesdale’s presentation of the Leibster Blog Awards. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.

Thank you and good night.

Way In

2011-12-11T17:43:00.001-05:00

So, since I've restarted the hospital program, I've been toying with the idea of posting my progress in real numbers for you all. I decided that if I'm going to do this, I'm gonna go all the way in.

It'll be a simple report. You'll get my real weight, the +/- from the baseline and the prior weigh in. I weigh in every other week, so two to three reports a month.

Also, I'm pretty religious about reporting my workouts at DailyMile.com so, unless something extraordinary happened, I'll let the widget on the blog do my reporting there.

Now I need to decide if I'm gonna post pics. That's a lot tougher still. :)

Baseline: 320 lbs.

***Edit***

After Amanda's comment, you know I can't back down. The only thing missing from her challenge was a double dog dare. :) So, here I am:

(My son wanted to be in it as some sort of comparison. Also, he wanted to show off his letter for Cross Country)

Choosing Reflections

2011-12-10T12:35:00.001-05:00

I stand before the mirror and I
See my large belly. I
See my flabby neck. I
See the sadness in my eyes. I
See the fat hanging from my
Frame, from my
Thighs.

I see my
Legs unable to run under
The weight and strain. I see
My back full of aches, unable
To bend without pain. I see
My arms, with hanging skin underneath. I see my shoulders, slumped and broken
By life's burdens.

I see my face full of
Weakness.
Failure.
Shame.

I see all that I hate
About myself.

I stand before the mirror and I

See legs that hold me

Up like steel pillars. I

See a back, strong

And proud. I see

Arms with the strength

To work, the gentleness

To hug my daughters and to

Hold my wife when she is sad.

Or scared.

I see my shoulders, steady

And broad, ready to carry

The weight of life's burdens

for me. And for my family.

And I see my belly

As it wobbles and jiggles

And wiggles and bobbles

When I laugh after wrestling my

Son to the floor, both of us doubled

Over in our glee.

I see my face, proud and secure

In knowing my true worth.

And I look into my eyes, and I

See kindness. I

See forgiveness. I

See intelligence.

I see Myself.

In Brief

2011-12-06T14:33:00.001-05:00

Wife saw her rheumatologist.

He's not convinced it's lupus.
He's also not convinced it's rheumatoid arthritis either.
He's thinking along the lines of fibromyalgia (which is nasty in its own right, but doesn't affect organ and tissues and considering the alternatives, my wife sees this as relative good news).
More lab work, but have reasons to be hopeful.

I've decided to go ahead with the hospital program on the cheap.

Hesitancy

2011-12-02T12:32:00.001-05:00

I've been ill for a week now and I'm tired of it. It's moved on to my chest and I feel like a truck hit me. Good news is that I've lost about a pound a half this week. The bad news is that is probably water loss.

I feel like I've been hit by a truck. I've not walked or biked all week as I don't find coughing up a lung productive. I am, however, itching to get back at it which I take as a sign that the changes continue to happen.

Now to the proverbial meat and potatoes of my post.

Two days ago I accompanied my wife to the hospital for some day surgery. While she was recovering, I popped up to the "medically supervised rapid weight loss" program on the third floor. It had been a year since I've seen anyone up there and I just wanted to say hi. It seems that only three staff members remain from a year ago, and one of them was off that day.

Anyway, the director of the program came out to meet me and offered me a carrot on a stick. Once you're in the program, you're in for life (or so long as the program is funded by the hospital). I had stopped because it was too expensive once my wife lost her job. Now the director has offered that I come back, purchase the supplements but not attend the classes (I've been through them 3 times over) and have a check up every 3 months or so instead of every month.

The supplements represent $3.50 a meal, which is reasonable by any restaurant standard. It's certainly cheaper than the McDonald's #2 with a large diet coke (ha ha). So my wife and I are considering it. Part of me hesitates and I'm not exactly sure why. I did 2 years on those shakes and I lost a lot of weight. I know how the program works. I also know how to cheat the program (it isn't hard, you just eat what you want). I miss the weekly accountability, though this time around that will be less so since I'm not checking in for class.

But I like how things are now. I can go out for lunch with a friend if I want; I don't have to make them brown bag it in my office while I make a shake. I eat what my family eats most of the time, though I try to be careful with the portion size. Food is less important now, but having two shakes a day brings attention to what is missing.

Oh dear. Decisions.

Like I said, I know the program. I know I can succeed on it. I've worked out some of my emotional connections with food that I was unaware of the first time around. And my wife is encouraging me to start again. And my son. And my daughters.

Why am I resisting?

Seriously. That isn't rhetorical. This program works. This program is what I've been half assed replicating with protein shakes from the grocery store (under a doctor's advice I quickly add). This program is a path to part of what I want. It isn't an easy path. It isn't a cure all. I know the work I'll have to put into it. I should want to jump at the chance to get back in. Most of all, the program is monitored by a nurse practitioner that I trust.

Is it fear of failing?

Is it resistance to changing how things are now?

Is it the money?

I have the weekend to think about it. Seriously, insight, personal experiences or encouragement to go one way the other will be appreciated. The decision will still be mine, in the end. But right now I can't make sense of it; get a handle on it.

Interweb Finds

2011-12-01T16:57:00.001-05:00

500 Before and After Weight Loss Pictures

(Thanks to Janice over at Fitness Cheerleader for sharing this on her blog. Check her out!)

10 reasons

2011-11-26T08:30:00.000-05:00

Ten reasons why the stationary bike is better than the real thing:

10. None of that fresh air crap.

9. No need for a sense of balance.

8. Hands free for two ice cream cones.

7. Can ask daughter to run upstairs and get daddy a glass of water.

6. Never have to miss NCIS.

5. In the basement, no one can smell you sweat.

4. Two words: clothing optional (once the aforementioned daughter has left for school).

3. Can maintain the sickly pale color you've been working on all summer.

2. Bathroom breaks less embarrassing.

1. It isn't.

Little Pinpricks

2011-11-25T14:06:00.001-05:00

So, Thanksgiving rolls around. I threw caution to the wind and ate what Iwanted…for the noon meal. Which is exactly as I planned. Otherwise, Isnacked a bit (and I really mean just a bit) on Aunt Katie’s party mix butstuck to the plan to eat when I was hungry. And I wasn’t hungry again until about 9 that night. So I had some popcorn. And that was it.

I am amazed at how food did not control me yesterday. Then I turn it around and am amazed that I controlledfood.

Not that the day wasn’t without it’s bumps. I’ve often said on this blog that I have hadvery little experience in the way of receiving insults or judgments based on myweight. I had forgotten the littlecomments family makes and passes them off as jokes.

I had started writing a paragraph of what happened and thenrealized I didn’t really want to go there. I was going to describe a cousin who made a rude comment and laughed. It made me mad. It hurt. It was on my mind all evening. For those of you who read my twitter feed, you may have caught it. But I started introducing my cousin to you asa loathsome ne’er do well who had no station in life to judge me. What I found as I wrote is that I pityhim. He has had a very hard knocklife. He knows that he’s not successfullike most of the cousins are. He’s hadthe stack against him from day one as he has a birth defect that I’m sure he’staken a lot of teasing about. Maybe evenfrom me when we were kids, I don’t remember. Teasing may be his only way of trying to fit in; the only way to feellike he has one up on me.

I just don’t have it in me to tear into my cousin in my blogwhere he will never read it and never be able to defend himself.

So I go on in a more general sense.

As I said, I’ve been lucky that I’ve not experienced a lotof bigotry for my size. But from myexperience yesterday, it is clear that my skin is thin when those little jokesare made “all in good fun”. I’ve not hadthe big insults like being called a fat pig from a car of laughing teenagers orsome of the other horror stories I’ve read in other blogs. But the little pinpricks I thought I wasignoring hurt just as much.

Especially when they come from family.

But even more so when they come from myself.

I get mad at those little comments. “You sure you want to eat that?” “Don’t letKevin near the [insert name of food here] or there won’t be any left.” “I can’t get my arms around you to hug you.” “IfI keep going like I am, I’ll be as big as you.”

(Now that I think about it, I haven’t been lucky at all…exceptwith strangers.)

Thing is, there’s not one of those little jokes (and manyothers) that I haven’t made to myself. If their comments won’t shame me into a healthier lifestyle, what makesme think saying the same thing to myself will be any more helpful?

I’ve decided I’m not going to take those little jokesanymore. A simple “I find that rude.Please don’t make light of what I am. Itis hurtful to who I am” should suffice. When I make the little comments to myself that is.

Everyone else is getting the finger.

In Brief

2011-11-23T14:18:00.001-05:00

Wife is getting sick again like last fall due to

stress and anxiety

new job
new diagnosis
life

depression

But, she

and her doctor caught it early
has a plan
is taking control

I am trying not to freak the hell out, but

she and her doctor caught it early
she has a plan
she is taking control

Therefore,

I caught my freak out early
I have a plan and
I will take control

One step at a time, not 5 steps ahead.

Turning Corners and Looking Back

2011-11-21T12:17:00.001-05:00

Way back in September ’10, I had written a post that couldarguably be my rock bottom. We wereabout two months into my wife’s illness and life was just grinding me down andcrushing my spirit. I had happenedacross a blog by Jack Sh*t and, instead of immediately inspiring me, his blog…well…inmany ways his blog took away what little wind that was left in my sails. That post was probably the first, honest assessmentof myself. I remember the words crawlingthrough my chest and down the underside of my arms, ripping themselves free andfalling into the keyboard. It was apainful post.

Jack picked up on it, to my surprise, and left a veryencouraging comment. He even went so faras to make our exchange a post of his own, for which I will always be grateful. Suddenly I had so many readers—so many peoplevisiting the stable. I wasn’t reallysure what to do with all the encouragement.

So I kept writing, making TJC something into my own personaljourney rather than the exercise blog I had envisioned (where weight loss was a minor subject). I’ve mostly shared, I think,the emotional side of my struggle which is at the heart of my growth. Noteveryone who came over from Jack’s blog stayed. And that’s ok. I have been quitecontent with the readership I have found. And I’ve said it before, to those who have walked with me down this pathfor the long haul, and for the recent readers I seem to have picked up alongthe way, thank you.

I ran across that post while reviewing my blog and it got me thinking about where I had been and where I've gone.

I’m back, in a significant way. Well, significant to meat least. I’ve spent the last two weekscatching up on several blogs including Jack’s and many others who I used to follow until my depression had reallytaken hold and left me apathetic (It’strue. I’m sorry. I wasn’t able to followseveral of my fellow bloggers) I’ve found a few new ones too. And I am getting inspired. And excited. Yet, I’ve also notedwith some sadness that some authors have closed up shop.

In that post, I said I wouldn’t know what I’d send to Jackfor his W.I.D.T.H. program. I think I know now. I just recently came to this conclusion. Since learning of my wife’srecent diagnosis, I thought it would be because of my realization that if I don’tget healthy, my kids have a slight chance of not having parents in 10-15years. But, as true as that insight is, it isn't the answer I finally discovered.

The real reason Why I Do This Here is much simpler thanthat. And it’s something I’ve said for along time but didn’t realize how important it had become:

Why I Do This Here: Because I have to take care of myselfbefore I can take care of anyone else.

Last Saturday I wrote that I feel like I’m going to turn thecorner sometime soon. I realize now thatI’ve turned that corner a long time ago.

A Dip in the Sidewalk

2011-11-19T19:37:00.001-05:00

So, I was going to write this post about how well things are going. How much things have changed since my life settled down and the new medication actually worked. How I spent some time going through the blogs of others and found such inspiration. I was going to write about change and, at the same time, change the layout of The Jogging Clydesdale as a some sort of symbolic representation of this "change".

I was going to, but then I wrote this one.

Today has been tough. The girls had friends over last night and most of today. There was pizza. There was chips. And dip. Did I mention the dip? And there was chips. And doughnuts. And Bismarcks with cream filling. And I ate myself sick. I am literally nauseous right now, tasting the burps of bbq potato chips. And dip.

Please tell me I'm not the only one to sweep a finger along the bottom and sides of a mostly empty chip dip container to get the last teaspoon of that sour cream goodness. Please?

So, today wasn't a good day.

But this much has changed.

I am depressed this evening about my choices. But I'm not ashamed. I know that I am human and can take only so much temptation. And dip.

I'm walking again, 2-3 times a week. And I'm trying to use the stationary bike the nights I don't walk. And I did visit so many of the blogs I used to read for inspiration but had gotten out of the habit once my depression had really set in. I am inspired by so many people who have walked down this road before.

I can feel a change just around the corner.

Today I've merely stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk.

And landed in the dip.

I am fat me

2011-11-15T18:00:00.000-05:00

“Imagine that you hate the color purple. Thenimagine that you move to a house where your room is purple. If you refuse toaccept that the room is purple, you will never paint it a color that you want.”

A basic tenet of Buddhism is that life is painful. Not accepting that truth is what causessuffering. I’ve been doing a lot of workover the last 3 years or so to come to grips with this thing called Radical Acceptance. I still don’t know if I’m getting it right,but it is accepting that things are as they are and I can’t change it. It means riding out that pain, experiencingit, living with it until such time that the pain diminishes or the situationchanges in ways that I can change it. But refusing to accept the pain is pain squared or suffering.

The little illustration quoted above is a neat littlesummation of both suffering and radical acceptance.

I’m not a Buddhist, but I believe there is wisdom to befound in its teachings. There’s a lot that goes with it. Mindfulness, being present, letting go of thepast, realizing that the future is equally intangible. It’s really hard. Even harder to sum up in a blog post. And Idon’t understand half of it.

I am fat. If I refuseto accept that I am fat, I will never be in a position to change it.

See, there’s still a part of me that refuses to acceptthat. Sure, I’ve given it lipservice. I’ve worked very hard atforgiving myself for getting into this situation, but I’ve not really acceptedthe fact that I am back at square one. In the back of my mind, Istill regard myself as a healthy skinny person that’s “put on some weight”despite all the evidence to the contrary. It’s a coping belief; it’s a lie to get me through the day without acrushing feeling of shame and pity. Becauseof this delusion, I am suffering. I amconflict between what is and what I tell myself is. That conflict is causing me to suffer and isa stumbling block.

So, my friends, let me state again that I am fat. And unhealthy. And I will continue to be fat and unhealthyuntil such time that I am not fat unhealthy. I will do my best to not deny this truth in any form of self delusion orrationalization. And I will fail. And after I fail, I will start again.

“Fighting reality causes suffering (I hate thisroom). Sometimes people get so caught up in hate that they don’t changethings. First, accept the purple-ness of the room, and then paint it.”

It’s time to paint my fat, unhealthy purple room a differentcolor.

(I wish I knew who to credit for the quote. I got it from an article by Brent Menninger here,but it’s unclear to me if he is the author)

More Conversations in my Head

2011-11-09T16:01:00.000-05:00

I feel fat.

Fat is not a feeling. Fat is not an emotion.

Fine. I am fat then.

True, I can't deny that. But, that's all

it is. A fact. It is not a judgement. It

is not a comment on who you are.

When I lay in bed, I can feel the fat

hanging from my body. When I walk

I can feel it jiggling.

Gross. But again, it is just a fact.

Nothing more.

I feel ugly.

Dude, ugly isn't a feeling.

See above.

Ok smarty pants. I am ugly.

No, you are beautiful.

Girls are beautiful. I'm a guy.

Sure, that might make sense looking

at the outside and only if you buy

into it. But you are beautiful within.

So my insides are beautiful?

You know what I mean.

Aha! So you're still saying I'm ugly on

the outside. Gotcha.

No, you're the one saying it. And I

wish you'd stop it. You're wife seems

to like your outside so who are you to argue?

I feel stupid.

I'm not going over this again. And before

you say it, you are not stupid.

I am weak. I should be strong.

Who isn't? And you need to

stop shoulding on yourself.

I am unwo....

Wait a minute. I'm not finished.

You are stronger than you ever

imagined. You think it is normal,

but it is your inner strength that

your friends, your kids, your wife, your family and your

co workers tell you time and time again

they draw upon. It's time to

start believing them.

Well, even so, I am unworthy.

Unworthy of what?

...

You know, I don't know.

Then why think that?

I am fat. I am large. I am beautiful. I am handsome.

I am smart. I am weak. But I am also strong.

And....

I am worthy.

Duh.

This is my real life

2011-11-08T18:24:00.000-05:00

When I awoke today
Suddenly nothing happened
But in my dreams
I slew the dragon
And down this beaten path
And up this cobbled lane
I'm walking in my own footsteps once again

And you say,
"Just be here now
Forget about the past
Your mask is wearing thin"
Let me throw one more dice
I know that I can win
I'm waiting for my real life to begin

~Colin Hay "Waiting for my real life to begin"

I have long enjoyed this song by Colin Hay. Essentially it's a story of a man (I assume) who continually waits for that one thing to happen that will turn everything around for him--winning the lottery, get rich quick schemes, etc. Meanwhile another person in his life (a wife? certainly someone who loves him) implores him to start living now. It's a story I'm guessing many relate to. This week it resonated with me like a church bell up close.

I'm not a guy who is waiting for many of his dreams to come true. I have a good job and a mostly successful career. I am happily married and am thoroughly enjoying the dad thing. I have a roof over my head. I have worked very hard to understand my life and to love those around me. Sure I daydream of being financially independent and incredibly handsome. What I'm saying is, my life is pretty much what I've wanted and I am slowly becoming the man I had always hoped to be. I've not waited for my life to begin.

Except...

It struck me last week just how much I've been planning all my married life that my wife would be the healthy one. She is the nurse who knows about healthy living and stuff. She knows nutrition. She was an athlete in high school and is much more active than me. She was the one that was going to stay healthy and be there with my kids and grandkids should anything happen to me. I took comfort in that. Too much comfort.

It's another nugget in this whole weightloss, healthy living, emotional eating thing I got going on here. It was the assurance that if anything happened to me, my wife would be there for my family. And I wasn't fully aware of this nugget, just as I am unaware of so much about why I am the way I am and do the things I do. I didn't need to take my health as serious as my conscious mind told me. My unconscious mind believed this secret knowledge.

Two weeks ago we received the news I've shared previously about my wife's diagnosis of Lupus. We've since learned that the doctor's diagnosis is quite preliminary; that she doesn't have the expertise to diagnose it correctly. It is still very likely to be Lupus, though it may be any of a number of auto-immune and connective tissue disorders.

Whether or not it is Lupus and whether or not it is terminal in the long or short term, I became painfully aware that there is every possibility that it will be me surviving. I hope that with the grace of the universe that she and I will spend the next 50 years together, but I can't count on it as I once did. And that is probably the hardest thing I have ever forced myself to write on this journal.

I realize now that there are parts of my life that I've been waiting to begin.

"Just be here now, forget about the past, the mask is wearing thin."

I have a whole life to look forward to. With my wife. With my children. And if the universe is gracious enough, with my grandchildren. How selfish of me to put all that unconscious pressure on my wife to be the healthy one. I have not been a true partner in this regard. But I am learning. The past is past. I've said that often in this blog. It's time to move forward.

(Lest anyone think that this post is moribund and I am melancholy and despondent, the truth is I am thankful for this insight. How wonderful is it that I still have a chance to regain my health?!? I have been searching for a reason to live a healthy life beyond the vague feeling that I should want to. I have found it. I have already lost 10 pounds in the last month. I am experiencing what I believe many people call Joy.)

Returning

2011-10-30T02:21:00.005-04:00

I have been back to the Room with no View.

The 40 watt light bulb has been replaced with a 75. The floor is swept. The cobwebs cleared. The cinder block walls scrubbed clean.

The boxes organized and stacked neatly on gray steel shelves.

And the door has been repainted a curious green, but the doorknob turns easy; the rusted lock brushed, polished and oiled, but left undone.

The whispers are silenced.

The chill dampness replaced with a humid warmth, like the atmosphere itself is an embrace.

My room has been a metaphor for fear for so long, so much older than that January post...I can hardly begin to describe the change I find when I return there. I am stronger than I have been in two years. And my life, both metaphorically and literally, mentally and physically, is reorganizing. Sorting. Falling into places I would not have guessed it would fit.

Yeah, the meds are working.

I realize reading back on that post, I was wrong. I thought I was describing the hold food had on me. I know now that that room was pure fear, pure depression, pure exhaustion. And now, somehow, I have let it all go. Or most of it at least.

My wife and I are facing what may be the most challenging chapter in our lives together. And still, calmness. What will be, will be. And nothing can change that. But right now I have the present. That is all any of us really own. This moment. That's it. And the past either owns us, or we release it, if we are both strong and lucky, keeping only the memories

Will my room stay so neat and calm? I doubt it. My life cycles in and out, from order to chaos and back.

Isn't it wonderful?

In Brief

2011-10-29T12:50:00.001-04:00

1. Monday: Home. Sick.

2. Tuesday: Wife diagnosed with Lupus

3. Wednesday: Daughters with me in van. CV joint fails in a spectacular way; van towed to garage. Left axle and tie rod replaced as well. $750. Still, not transmission as first believed. And happened at 3 mph at gas station rather than 55 (65?) mph on county road.

4. Thursday: Meet with Dr. She clarifies that her diagnosis is preliminary; that as a family doc, she doesn't have the expertise. She thinks it's Lupus, but only a specialist can tell. Can't see specialist until December.

5. Friday Morning: Blood tests indicate it might be rheumatoid arthritis. Or both. Still can't see specialist until December.

6. Friday evening: Wife falls at work and hits head on wall. Spend evening in ER. All is ok, but she will have a nasty headache.

7. Saturday: Wife taking it easy. Me baking bread.

6. Final Binge Count: 0

Two options

2011-10-22T07:30:00.000-04:00

First of all, thanks to everyone. The last year has been awful and many of you have stuck with me. Things are turning around, finally. Wife continues to enjoy her job, the new medication has lifted the fog in my own life and life itself seems to be cooperating more.

Now, with the improvement of my situation comes a renewed effort to get back on track with the weightloss and healthy lifestyle. These last three weeks have resulted in the removal of 2 pounds from my ample frame. And here are my two options: either give up because the rewards are not coming fast and furious enough or savor my two pound gain (yes, gain....think about it...it just struck me too...gonna hafta explore that later) as the hard fought beginning of something wonderful.

I know which option is better for me, but I have a feeling if I don't acknowledge the former, the latter will be even more difficult to choose.

In Brief

2011-10-01T09:07:00.000-04:00

1. I started a new medication last week.
2. My family is telling me I'm annoying.
3. That usually means I'm feeling better.
4. Ergo, I think the new medication will work.

Delicous Cores

2011-09-14T00:27:00.003-04:00

So there's this blog post by Joy Tanksley called How to get what you really want that I read. It was suggested by my friend Karen C. L. Anderson at Before and After in a link she posted to Facebook about a month ago. Before I go any further, if you haven't visited either of these fine bloggers, do so. I don't follow Joy as consistently as I do Karen, but both are thought provoking and inspiring authors worthy of your time. (and if the links aren't underlined, run your cursor over this paragraph to find them. I don't know why the underlines don't show up half the time.)

So anyway, Joy wrote this article. The upshot is to find what I really want through an exercise of asking why. For example, I want to lose weight. Why? Because I want to be healthy. Why? And so on and so on. Eventually I should get to the heart of my desire, what Joy calls the delicious core. It's a good exercise that I've done in various forms over the years. The problem is I always get stuck on the shoulds.

When I start the exercise, I begin with "I want to lose weight." Why? "Because I should." Why? "Because I should." Well....why? "Because I should."

See the problem?

I should want to be thinner, to be healthier, but I have no reason for why I should. And "should" isn't enough.

So. What do I want? I want to wear regular sized clothes. I want to be able to bend over without losing my breath. I want to run. I want to look in the mirror and feel good about myself. I want to be free of food's icy grip. I want to let food go. I want to stop feeling shame about every bite that goes in to my mouth. I want feet that don't hurt. I want knees that don't ache. I want to be happy.

...and there it is. My delicious core.

I may not get there by asking why. But I know that is my answer. When I ask myself why I want to be happy, the answer isn't "because I should." The answer is because that is what I want.

The exercise would have me go on to find ways that I could experience my delicious core. But I have no idea how to be happy. Oh I know how to fake it. But is happiness something you can create? For 41 years, those times I experience happiness is because, for that moment in time, I'm happy. It just happens. Either I am or I'm not. And, mostly, I'm not.

How does one create happiness?

I think that a lot of answers I'm seeking for the many things in my life and the many things I blog about are in the answer to that question.

Remembering the Forgotten

2011-09-03T12:48:00.001-04:00

I had the most extraordinary experience last evening. For a brief moment, I remembered what it was like when I had lost all that weight, and was active with running and biking and generally not feeling like crap. And here's the thing. I didn't experience the anxiety or the self judgment of getting back to that point like I usually do when I think of those years. No, I experienced a calmness. I experienced the feelings I had when I was at that point; the pride, the happiness, the physical freedom, the mental freedom.

I remembered what it was like. And when I came back to the present, that calmness stayed with me for a moment. I felt the release of the present stress while remembering the release of the past stress. I was at peace with myself and within myself. For a moment. And then it was gone.

I know that those years were no utopia so my memory is rather rose colored. But they were happier years. I want to get back to that calmness and that inner peacefulness. I think I may have forgiven myself for gaining back the weight in that moment because, as I said, I felt no anxiety or shame for having put it all back on. I just have to remember I did so.

Sometimes I think and I say out loud that food has a hold on me. It does not. I hold on to food as my sanctuary and as my comforter. Those years I was losing the weight and running, I had let go of food. I had embraced parts of my life I never thought were in me (me? run? be athletic? but I'm a band geek!). I had forgotten that I did that. I have forgotten how to do that.

What I think I'll do is try to go back to that memory whenever the urge to binge starts it's tickle.

Changing subjects, I last wrote about my struggle with depression. I have an appointment on Tuesday to begin the process with a new doctor. Here's hoping.

Admitting Things

2011-08-22T16:24:00.000-04:00

I've been avoiding writing this post for some time. I've been avoiding it because I really don't want to write another whiny diatribe about how life is hard and how I've been failing. I don't want to bore you all who are kind enough to stop by. But more than that, I don't want to admit it to myself and I don't want to see it in words.

When I look back through my posts, I am amazed at what I have written, what I have figured out and what I have forgotten. I'm a pretty with it kind of guy, when I remember to be a with it kind of guy. I've made some real insight into the emotional connections I have with food.

It's also clear that I am depressed. For the last 18 months I've dealt with a falling out with a pastor and the end of his friendship, the heart crushing months of watching my wife fall into severe mental illness and the loss of her income, my own demons and the shame of gaining all my shed weight back, plus another 20. I've dealt with a new position with the library, and now I get to report that I am losing that position due to severe budgetary cuts (I will not be out of a job, however...at least for now). And lately I have the task of deciding who on my staff will receive cuts in their hours. Raising kids, paying bills, and all the other “normal” stress anyone lives through has certainly not made living through the trials of the last year and a half any easier.

For this whole period, I knew I was depressed. I thought it was situational as I certainly had reasons to be stressed, anxious and depressed. But looking back, I think it is clear to me know that I have been mired in a true depressive episode triggered by my situation, but rooted in my illness. I've been here before. I've been on medication for nearly 20 years now, but most of the time it is merely maintenance, not catching up and knocking it down.

I am proud that through all the ordeals of the recent past, I kept it together, got things done, cared for my spouse and kept it from deeply affecting my job. However, now that she is better, I find myself falling apart. I expected the stress to go away once she recovered and once she found employment. What I find is that in releasing that stress, I am releasing the energy that had kept all the cracks closed.

A few weekends ago, I worked a Saturday shift at the branch library. When I came home, I found myself in the middle of a battle of wills between my wife and our teenaged son. And I lost it. Somewhere between trying to mediate a peace and being a parent, I broke down. I was making a toasted cheese sammich. And I gasped a terrifying breath in. I had been fighting tears and fighting feelings of losing control, but I could not do that anymore. In the middle of the kitchen, standing in front of the stove, I sobbed. Uncontrollably. I made it to the bedroom, and kept sobbing for what seemed like a half hour with my wife comforting me.

Afterward, we had a family meeting. My kids had never, ever seen me cry (except during sappy periods of movies). I had frightened them. I think they feared I had gone ill as their mother had a year ago. I don't know. The point is, we talked about not just “it” but about a whole lot of things. Of my wife's illness and recovery. Of her new job. Of our worries for the kids. Of their worries for us.

I'd like to say that everything was sunshine and lollipops after that. To a large degree, things were better. My son, especially, felt free to speak what was on his heart and broke down some of those walls. But for myself, not much has changed, except the realization that my depression is not rooted only in my situation in life...I need help. I'm getting it, though the wait time to get in to see a doctor is long.

In the meantime, the weight continues to pile on. I'm working very hard at not hating myself for it, but the way I'm feeling makes that pretty impossible from time to time.

I was reminded, however, that one of the central tenets of the Buddha is that life is painful. Not accepting that truth is what causes suffering. Spending all of my energy trying to avoid accepting the truth of my condition in my physical, mental, emotional, spiritual spheres is causing me to suffer. Perhaps right now is not the time to work on weight loss but instead work on getting my inner house in order.

I am a large man. No amount of blogging, talking, worrying or wishing changes the fact that at this moment in my life I am fat and unhealthy. I must accept that so the suffering can stop. And, hopefully, the healing begin.

What kept me up last night (among other things)

2011-08-19T19:31:00.000-04:00

It's been a long while since I left a post. And I got some things on my mind that I'll be writing about soon. Personal type things about where I find myself right now.

But for now, I just want to ask a question. Given the millions if not billions spent by companies and advertisers to research human psychology and use that knowledge to influence us to buy crap we don't need, food that isn't healthy, body images that are unrealistic . . . why hasn't anyone found a way to use that knowledge to counter that influence? Use that power to influence healthy choices? In other words, if I accept that I can be influenced to make choices that are not necessarily in my favor, why can't I use the same methods to be influenced to make good choices?

Yeah. I know. There's no money in it.

Even Briefer:

2011-07-28T15:32:00.002-04:00

Wife has job.

In Brief

2011-07-10T19:26:00.000-04:00

-Dr has prescribed a new med for depression.
-New med is $430.00/mo.
-I'll be asking the Dr for a new new med.
-Dr also told me of a protein supplement at a local grocery store that is nutritionally nearly identical to the protein shakes I used in my weight loss program with the hospital. At a fraction of the price. I am giving it some very serious consideration. I asked if she had any concerns about my kidneys. She said she didn't as I had no complications during the program.
-My binging has increased as I contemplate the preceding bullet point. I am vacillating between confidence and fear.
-And if I haven't said it enough, I appreciate all of you who take the time to stop by and give me encouragement.

Muffins are not smiles

2011-07-05T21:48:00.002-04:00

I was sitting in my in-laws' hotel room on a two day road trip to distant parts of North Dakota and having some breakfast. My MIL's rhubarb muffins to be exact. And while I was eating, a thought flashed through my brain. I didn't pay much attention to it. In fact, it barely registered--until I was going on my third muffin and second glass of milk: "Rhubarb muffins taste like smiles."

Muffins taste like smiles? What?

It was a grok kind of moment. That muffin wasn't just breakfast. It was an emotion. A happy emotion. And I wanted more happiness.

A few weeks ago I posted a rather depressing reflection on whether or not I wanted to do this anymore. It was good to get those words out. Even more so was listing the emotional connections I have to food. I had never really put it all together like that before and it was insightful to see a litany of different ways I equate foods with emotions and memories. Those words stayed with me throughout the rest of my trip to NoDak and I'm glad to report that, upon returning home, I stepped on the scales to learn I had gained a mere pound (woo hoo!).

I do want to do the work. But if I'm equating muffins with smiles, I think I got a longer haul to make than I ever thought. I am so glad that I was in a state of mind to catch that stray thought and examine it. It was easy to forgo more muffins when I realized I was making an unhealthy association. But I wonder how often those stray thoughts go through my mind and I'm not mindful.

Since then, I'm trying to approach each meal with a reminder that it is nourishment first. It doesn't mean food can't be enjoyed or pleasurable, but it does mean I try not to equate emotions with food. Food isn't happiness-happiness is happiness. Food isn't comfort-comfort is comfort. Foods aren't memories--memories are memories.

It sounds so simple. I'm even a bit embarrassed to publish this. But this is revolutionary for me.

And just how do muffins become smiles? I could not figure out why such an association would exist. I'm not a big fan of rhubarb. And we didn't have much of it growing up. Rhubarb muffins certainly were not a staple in youth. But... my MIL's muffins had a particularly lemony flavor. And lemon bars figured large in my childhood. It was a treat mom would make for us. It was brought out for special occasions and special visitors. And lemon pie is my dad's favorite pie. And lemonade made with real cane sugar and lemon juice was a particular summertime treat when I was a boy. And... And.. And... and the relationships kept coming. The muffins were smiles because I have many happy memories associated with lemon flavored treats.

So, I have to ask, am I losing it? Am I the only one out there who's mind works this way? Do you ever find yourself making similar connections or catching similar freak thoughts?

Muffins are not smiles. Smiles are smiles.

Muffins are muffins.

Minot, ND

2011-06-26T15:26:00.000-04:00


Posted by KX News Minot on Facebook-no infringement intended

I've just returned from my in-laws in Minot, ND. They live well out of the city and are not directly affected by the flood, but I learned last evening that they are under the boil-order. We left a day earlier than planned as the flood was threatening to cut off our route to the east. There was a way to get around the city to the west, but it involved using the only north-south corridor open, and there was no need to add traffic to an already overloaded infrastructure. The flood is bad, worse than can be expressed in a national news clip. My in-laws and all the residents of that region are in my thoughts.

I have some other thoughts about food-diet-health-weightloss that I've been pondering since my last post, but I'll leave it until another time.

So tired.

2011-06-13T23:19:00.002-04:00

Do I really want to lose this weight? Do I really want to be healthy; do the work it takes to be healthy? I'm been hemming and hawing, coming up with some striking insight, learning about my triggers, my fragile self image. And I've been sharing it, here, online, for the world to see.

But, that is only an illusion of transparency. I share what I want. I reveal what is safe. I write words that offer a shell of understanding. Do I really believe whatever the hell it is I am saying?

Here's where I stand right now.

I am so large that even a Super Walmart did not have clothes to fit. Despite changing my tone of The Jogging Clydesdale from a runner's blog to an introspective journal of weightloss nearly a year ago, I am at my heaviest and my largest. Ever.

And that's the truth.

I have a wife recovering from a serious health issue; one that prevents her even now from a completely normal life and the possibility of employment. I have children to care for. I have bills to pay. I have a job to perform. I have issues of my own to deal with. I am stressed beyond anything I ever imagined I could go. And I eat to deal with stress.

I have a history with food as a great comforter, as a conveyance of love, as a link to a childhood. And I eat to remember those time I felt loved.

I have discovered that there is some part of me that fears never having food again. I don't know where that comes from. I cannot remember a time when food was scarce; either in my parent's home or in my adult life. I don't understand this one. And yet, I eat to make sure I'll have enough.

I have bad habits. I don't know where they all come from. I know Sundays were always popcorn days. Mom rarely left a gas station without a candy bar for us. I have triggers simply because it's what I've always done. I eat because it's what I do.

I eat when I'm bored.

I eat when I want to celebrate.

I eat when my stomach is upset and I think a little something will settle it down. A box of granola bars is a little something, apparently.

I don't like myself. I don't love myself. I have grown a lot in this area and have taken great strides toward acceptance. But I'm not there yet. And I eat because I believe all the things I tell myself: you are weak. you are ugly. you have no control. go on, feed your fat fucking face, you deserve no better. I eat because I hate myself.

I eat not because it nourishes my body, but because food has meaning. Food has emotions. Food has histories. Food is a weapon and a reward.

And here's the thing. I'm dying. I am one glucose tolerance test away from diabetes. The way I carry my fat on my belly and apron shows that I am statistically higher risk for a heart attack. I am afraid of learning that my high blood pressure is back. I am in very poor health. I should care about this. This should scare the hell out of me and prompt me to do something about it. But the immediate reward of a binge has more immediate meaning than a long, hard path to recover that health does.

I am tired of this. So tired. I am tired of hitting this bottom time after time after time.

I don't know what I'm going to do this time, but something has to change.

I am too important to give up.

It's Official

2011-06-09T21:16:00.000-04:00

It's Official.

I am too fat for Wal-Mart.

NOTHING in my size.

Shit.

Progress

2011-06-02T15:12:00.000-04:00

Today I threw away half my fries. And I refrained from picking up the glob of tuna salad that fell out of my sammich and eating that too.

Is this what progress looks like?

Discoveries

2011-06-01T12:48:00.003-04:00

It started with a memory.

I had been thinking about food and my odd relationship with it and I remembered a friend’s 30th birthday party. They had shish kabob gyro meat done up on the grill and all sorts of things to make Greek goodness.

And soon, as people were done eating, I got nervous.

You see, there was still meat on the buffet table. Delicious gryo meat! I couldn’t stand it. There was meat and no one was going to eat it. Presumably my friend would have put it in a container and kept it as leftovers, but she wasn’t doing it. She left it out there! And no one was eating it! The compulsion to eat it was overwhelming. I tried to be sneaky about it. I tried to hide the fact I was snacking long after everyone else had stopped eating. To this day I don’t know if anyone noticed, but the memory of that shame has not left me after 9 years. I ate about a 1/3 pound of meat that I wasn’t hungry for….simply because no one else was going to and I couldn’t stand it being there. Perhaps a third pound isn’t excessive, but the thoughts accompanying were.

Does this make a lick of goddam sense?

That memory lead to other thoughts. Roast beef, gravy and mashed potatoes. OMG. Whenever we have this, I pig out. And the thought in my head is “who knows when you’re gonna have this again? Better get it while you can.” Pig out city. Same thing with what my family calls goulash (most people would call it chili mac without the chili seasoning). I go ape shit for this stuff and eat bowl after bowl with the same thoughts “Better get it while you can.” Same with tuna & noodles. Same with chop suey. Same with popcorn. Same with macaroni and cheese (homemade with Velveeta, not that boxed stuff).

It’s insanity is what it is.

It is a compulsion from my unconscious mind. These foods are my comfort foods. They are the foods we had growing up. We had at least one of those dishes every week (well, not the roast beef, but since we raised steers it was often enough). I’m sure there some emotional attachment there that I’m going to have to explore someday. And all this brought to mind many other things. Mom couldn’t leave a gas station without a candy bar, and one for each of us boys. There was always an after school snack (sometimes healthy, sometimes not). There was nearly always a bedtime snack. Then there were the things that were scarce: Pop was only on hand if we were sick or having pizza. We didn’t have pizza very often. Chips were only served if we were having burgers and dogs. There is still a part of my mind that considers these things treats and rarely enjoyed despite the fact that I have them all the friggen’ time now.

“Better get it while you can.”

It has never been so clear to me that any health gain for me will not happen until I address this emotional attachment to food. Habits, fears of scarcities, attachments to childhood memories. These things I hadn’t figured on. Here I thought emotional eating meant only to eat as a way to deal with stress and hurt. It goes much deeper than that.

I am grateful for these discoveries.

A friend on Facebook posted a quote from Regina Brett in God Never Blinks:

"Forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. At first that sounds harsh, but once you let go of what you wanted the past to be, you can start changing the present and create a better future.”

I don’t know what her book is about or what context this quote comes out of, but boy oh boy it is powerful. Forgiveness is giving up all hope of a better past. Forgiveness of myself is giving up all hope that I won’t eat that gyro meat 9 years ago. It means giving up all hope that I’ll be able to restrain my compulsions of the past. It means giving up all hope that my mother will be a better example to the child within me when it comes to diet. It means to come to the final, inescapable conclusion that the past is set in stone. The hurts inflicted by myself and by others will not be erased and no hope in the world can change what has happened.

The present, however, can be changed. And that is more power than I've ever had before.

I have a lot of work to do.

Option 3

2011-05-17T19:39:00.001-04:00

FreeFoto.com

I got out and ran today. I wish I hadn't. I really am too heavy and my ankles are screaming.

I came to a decision recently. I can wait for something to happen the rest of my life. I can wait for something in my life to change and suddenly all this blubber will magically melt off and food will no longer have its powerful emotional connection. But waiting isn't doing me a damn bit of good.

I could also do the hard work, count my calories, watch every morsel that passes through my gullet. I can live my life thinking about food and making conscious decisions to limit myself. And I can shame myself when I inevitably fail setting up another cycle of emotional sabotage.

Or, I can live my life as if I were already thin and healthy. I can tell my body that we are where we are and I'm going to live as if we are already over there. I have a feeling my body will come along for the ride.

I'm choosing option 3. And that's partly why I went out for a run today. That's the sort of thing I've been waiting to be lighter to do and I have missed it. Reality is settling in as I ice my ankles, but damn I feel good. I will have to take it easy until reality catches up with this attitude change. But I'm not going to stop altogether.

Having made this decision, the Itty Bitty Shitty Committee in my head is trying to veto it, telling me that I'll treat this as carte blanche to eat what I want, when I want and eventually end up even heavier. Not true. I will eat as if I'm already healthy and want to stay that way. I've learned quite a bit about intuitive eating. I have a lot to learn about emotional eating.I know this isn't a panacea. This path will have its ups and downs, failures and successes. But I trust that this is a journey worth taking.

Conversations in my head

2011-04-28T18:14:00.000-04:00

Who are you?

I am the Jogging Clydesdale?

No, who are you?

I am Kevin.

No, who are you?

I am...me?

You just don't quite get it.

I don't understand.

WHO ARE YOU?

I am my wife's husband.

I am my children's father.

I am a son.

I am a brother.

I am a cousin.

I am...

Who are you?

I am you. You are me.

What do you want?

I want health.

What do you want?

I want to not be fat.

What do you want?

I want to run.

I want to scream.

I want to cry. I want to do. I want to be.

I want to hide. I want to be seen.

I want to learn. I want....

Yes?

I want to love. I want to be loved.

By who?

By my family. By my friends.

And?

I want to love myself.

Why?

Because hating myself hurts too much.

There is no one crueler to me than me.

I am at the mercy of my own self.

And I can be an angry, angry man.

Why?

Because I am scared.

Of what?

I don't know.

Me?

Yes.

Why?

You are the voice in my head that tells me I am no good.

You are the thoughts that tell me I am ugly.

You are the one who convinces me I am failing.

You are my shame.

You are my anger.

You are my cruelty.

What are you going to do about it?

Forgive you.

What?

I forgive you.

I don't know why you are so angry. You scare the crap out of me

every time I look in the mirror or close my eyes.

But you cannot control me.

I forgive you. I accept that you are a part of me.

And by loving you first, maybe I will learn to finally

be me.

Pink: F**ckin' Perfect

2011-04-24T14:37:00.001-04:00

Link to Video @ Pink's site

I'm not a fan of Pink, but I'm not a hater either. I caught this video on VH1the other morning while getting ready for work. As the father of two daughters, one son who are sorting themselves out...and as the husband of a woman struggling to find herself...and as a man who has his own demons...this song and the video affect me.

I'll let the link to Pink's video speak for itself. You may not like it. That's cool. The images are rather graphic. But the message is clear.

Fair warning: The link is to Pink's explicit lyrics, not the safe one made for VH1.

Something positive, something negative

2011-04-22T15:59:00.000-04:00

Image provided by FreeFoto.com

I am really struggling with this post. I want to share a nascent change I've noticed in the last month. I just don't know how to do it without giving a lot of backstory. There's just so much to tell. I'll try to keep it simple.

I recently shared about a financial situation that blindsided us. Indeed, what I shared was rather negative. And I can't stand here and tell you I faced that situation with complete happy optimism. But I worked hard to keep a positive perspective.

Instead of thinking, "my god I have to put this on a cc and woe is me forever", I turned it to "thank god my credit limit is high enough that I can make this gap stop measure and get some breathing room before the next decision." Instead of focusing on "there is nothing to be done, there is no help for us," I found myself open to the overtures of two CPAs who attend our church willing to sit down and go through our options. And instead of thinking "I can't sit with them...then they'll know how ignorant I am when it comes to money," I thought "they are the experts; I can learn something here."

It wasn't easy, but I remained open to the chance that positive things could happen for us. Indeed, I kept telling myself that positive things would happen to us even though I didn't always fully believe it. Things turned out...ok. None of the options available to us for absorbing this debt were any better than the cc. Indeed, the current rate on this card is actually the lowest available to us, so the accountant friends gave it their blessing to keep it there until something else changes in our situation.

And now, on to the rest of the post....

Perhaps it is as simple as this: what you tell yourself to expect, that is what you find. In everything. In your flaws, in your relationships, in your job, in your faith, in your finances. Everything. That is the power of Affirmations. Whether that affirmation is positive or negative, it will have a profound effect on your responses to everything you encounter in life.

And that is the change I have found in myself. I am floored how easily I calmed down after the initial shock. I am shocked at how pervasive this new attitude is. I do have a long way to go. I have taken great strides in affirming myself as the great guy I knew I could be. I have gone a long way to accepting that life will be painful, but positive opportunities will present themselves if I'm looking for them.

There is one place I still struggle with, though. I hate my body. I loathe it. Right now my belly is so large and I feel so bloated. I can't bend over to tie my shoes without holding my breath. I struggle to get out of the sofa. I can feel the constraints of my clothing all day long. I can accept my inner self so much easier than my physical self. I find myself thinking that maybe if I trick myself with faking positive affirmation thing as it concerns my body and it will respond even though deep down I hate it. But it's not going to work. As long as I affirm that I hate my physical self, my mental self will continue to abuse it and treat it as if were truly unworthy.

I love my fat self in as much as I have compassion for how I got this way--that I have used food to protect and soothe my emotions and that I am not a failure...but that is as far as I can get. The flesh is much harder to love than the hurting person inside the flesh.

I have come a long way, my friends; but I have so much farther to go. Thank you all for coming this far.

Looking back, briefly

2011-04-12T20:57:00.003-04:00

I spent part of the afternoon today perusing my older, now defunct blog Amish Guitar. It was a fun little blog where I journaled about teaching myself how to play guitar after reaching the ripe old age of 36. I still wish sometimes that I had kept at it...but I just came to the point where I didn't feel like I had anything more to say.

What struck me today is a certain post I wrote called "After School Special." Apparently the after school special metaphor resonates with me. Anyway, it's a post about learning to be comfortable with my own progress as a guitarist, pushing myself to learn and grow and to not compare my skills with more experienced and talented musicians. Then I read this little gem:

See, the after school specials were right. Most things in life can't be judged against the accomplishments of others even though we often live our lives like we should account for ourselves that way. No, the accomplishments of others can inspire, inform, and encourage us. But our true test is how we judge ourselves against that ideal person we hope to be someday. What we forget is that we need to give ourselves a chance to grow into that person and take pride in the small achievements just as must as the larger ones.

What struck me is that this is equally true when I judge myself against myself. Despite my best efforts, I've been deriding myself for getting heavy again. I've been comparing myself to my 38 year old self when I dropped 65 pounds. I struggle with the feelings of failure and disappointment and truly wonder at my younger self's ability to have accomplished his goals. I've been judging myself against those accomplishments. I am judging against that ideal person I was and not the ideal person I know I will be someday.

I am not that same man anymore. Younger Kevin's life was quite different than mine is now. And I can't keep comparing myself to who I was. I can only be who I am right here, right now. And I've made, I think, remarkable progress in the last 6 months in becoming more and more comfortable with accepting myself as I find myself. Every morning I strive to wake up and be okay with my situation, both my weight & health, but also all the things in my life that bring difficulty.

Young Kevin can and does inspire me. What I've learned about health and weight loss informs the decisions I make today. And I am encouraged that I did it once and I can do it again.

One thing that Young Kevin did not have was an real understanding about how his emotions are so tightly woven into his eating habits--and how to deal with those emotions, how to work through the underlying emotional problems. I am beginning to learn what emotional eating means and coping skills to deal with those moments. And I am learning how to accept those uncomfortable emotions that I would try to avoid or heal with food. I am learning to love myself and accept myself with all my flaws.

I wrote some weeks ago about waking up, looking in the mirror and say to myself "I have kind eyes." I still do that. It makes all the difference in the world in how I approach my day and how I feel about myself. I am becoming that ideal person I know I will be.

Falling shoes

2011-04-06T16:50:00.000-04:00

Well, the other shoe finally fell yesterday. After 9 months of hanging in there on one paycheck, making the bills and the mortgage and buying enough food and clothes to keep the family from being hungry and naked, the good times have come to an end.

The hospital decided to call in all their chips. "Give us 9 grand by Thursday," they said "and we'll write off the rest. Or, alternatively, go to collections and pay an additional 33% on it all."

So, after making monthly payments for 2 years and not hearing a single peep of dissatisfaction from the health care facility, I gotta come up with a bunch of money I don't have in two days. I put it on a credit card and now I have to figure out how to pay two credit card bills. On top of everything else. And my wife needs to continue treatment at said hospital so it's not as if I'm done with them either.

I know there are a lot of families out there that are hurting, that are struggling to make it from week to week or even day to day. But, you know what? That doesn't bring me a lot of comfort.

I have no idea what I'm going to do. So long as I have my small savings, I can make the mortgage and the bills until August, but after groceries and gas there is nothing left. And once the savings is gone, I'm done. I have no plan B nor do I even know who I could talk to about plan B.

Just how much more does the universe think it can squeeze out of me?

And this situation does nothing for my wife's current state of health. Well, nothing positive anyway, making it even less likely she'll be able to work any time soon, thus keeping us in this evil cycle.

Yeah, I'm feeling rather Woe Is Me.

Father of the year--not.

2011-04-04T16:14:00.002-04:00

Haven't had much to say lately. Actually, I've been reeling from a comment made by my 15 yo son. He said that he is angry at me for gaining my weight back. He said I was happier when I was thinner and I'm a #&@*! to be around now. And he complained that "now that [I'm] fat again, there's never anything in the house" because I eat it all.

Lest anyone think ill of the boy, it was perfectly in context with our conversation and didn't just come out of nowhere. Except it did come out of nowhere in as much as I didn't expect such an emotional response from him.

I'm left more bewildered than hurt, but I can't deny that I am hurt as well. His words did sting but so much more is the hurt I feel I caused him.

This journey just took a strange twist. I'm a #&@*! to be around because of the incredible amount of stress the last 12+ months have had. I do my best to not take it out on the family, but I'm not perfect. I am depressed. I am heavy again. And now I have first hand knowledge in how this is affecting my kids.

I'm trying hard not to berate myself and instead take from this an important insight. It's not easy.

More letters from a madman

2011-03-23T15:38:00.004-04:00

Dear Fat Me,

Yeah, it’s taken some time. I’ve had to do a lot of thinking. A lot of searching. And a lot of learning. I know I have so much more to learn but I know you are my friend and will walk the journey with me.

Yes, I love you.

Yours,

Thin Me

Dear Thin Me,

We don’t have to hug or anything, do we? That would be awkward.

Sincerely,

Fat Me

Dear Fat Me,

:^)

-TM

What I want. Who I am.

2011-03-21T13:30:00.000-04:00

This photo was taken after dropping 60 pounds in my "rapid weight loss" program at the hospital. I went on to drop another 15 pounds before life intervened.

Last Saturday, I did something that rocked my world. I replaced the batteries in our scales. I learned that I had gained 15 pounds over my starting point for the "rapid weight loss" program.

I had to use all of my newly acquired skills to stop from falling into a shame cycle. I had to live in that moment and accept that I am at this point in my life a large man again. The past is gone, the future is yet to be. All I have, all we have, is the right here, right now.

I focused on the memory of this photo. And I thought the words "this is what I want, this is who I am." Positive phrases. Not "this is who I hope to be" or "who I will be". And this mantra got me through the urges to shame and blame.

It's going on my desktop and a print out is going on my bathroom mirror.

What self affirming words can you give to yourself to make it through the inevitable low blows that will come?

A note of thanks

2011-03-10T12:48:00.001-05:00

The Daily Mission question over at dailymile.com yesterday was "Are you for / against / or neutral on running related bumper stickers? For example 26.2 ovals, 13.1 ovals, Ironman, or ULTRA ovals"

It generated a bit of high spirited conversation on the twitterverse. Most of the tweeps/daily milers/facebook fans responded that there is no problem with being proud of one's accomplishments and if they want to get a bumper sticker to that fact, who does it harm?

But I'm not writing to weigh in on that question.

There was, of course, a contingent of athletes who pooh-poohed such emblems saying either that a half marathon wasn't really all that significant or that it is unbecoming to brag. I was intrigued that such opinions were out there and did a little more digging around via google. What I found is that there is a small but vocal groups of runners that disparage the recreational and fitness runners.

But I'm not writing to weigh in on that question either.

What I want to say is this. I love being a runner. I will always be a back of the pack guy. I will never win a race, never win my age group and probably never accomplish what some may see as recognized achievements. I'll never qualify for the Boston Marathon, for example. I'm ok with that. Because running not something I feel I need to master or be the best at.

I am a runner who will always be on the sidelines of the conversation and never really part of the gang. I participate in the online community of runners as a perennial wall flower. And I love it. I love reading other people's race reports and training log. I love to read about other people's accomplishments. I quietly celebrate their achievements. I don't know what a tempo run is or the significance of a series of repeats, but I love reading that those I follow share that online.

And I love that many in this community have taken the time to stop by here and say a few words or send me an ataboy on Twitter when I share about my 5K experiences.

This is where the questions of stickers and accomplishments have taken me. When I see a car with 26.2, I feel lucky to be part of this community--even when I am too heavy to actually be out there running with them in spirit. Even when I know I barely make a blip on many runners' radar.

To those runners I follow on twitter or have friended on Daily Mile, and to those who have followed me back and taken time to drop by my little blog here, I say thank you. You inspire me. Every day.

Morning thoughts

2011-03-02T12:15:00.003-05:00

"I am brave enough to live the life I want and not the one I expect"

This is the thought I woke up to this morning. Which is odd considering that yesterday we were blindsided with the news that my wife did not get the job after all. It was a very stressful day and my heart broke for her. She did not take it well at all considering her former manager encouraged her to apply and made many references to how interested she was to hire my wife. I don't think it was done with malice. I think the manager was surprised when another employee applied who had more experience. I don't think she was expecting this particular scenario. But what a let down for my wife.

I've been trying very hard over the last two years or so to stop living from crisis to crisis. It's hard to do when, frankly, my life is a series of crises (ha). It's hard to view it as living from opportunity to opportunity. Yesterday could have put me in a real tailspin and I won't deny the fear and anxiety I felt. At the same time I knew that we had a plan that gets us through June financially and this unfortunate wrinkle doesn't change that plan. I decided that this was the universe's way of having my wife push her boundaries but still point out she's not yet ready for prime time. I am gladdened to no end that this manager still thought highly enough of my wife to invite her to apply. I have to remember these facts and not focus on the bad.

Anyway, I woke up with that thought on my mind and just wanted to share. I feel so incredibly empowered. I did not binge yesterday. To tell the truth, I was so stressed that I had lost my appetite. Still, when did appetite or lack thereof ever stop me from literally swallowing my emotions? I was clear headed enough last night to remember to live the life I wanted.

All my life I've heard people say I can do it if I just put my mind to it. I've always taken that to mean willpower wins over circumstance. What if "putting my mind to it" is less of a pounding hammer on nail and more ... searching for appropriate metaphor ... more of a gentle brook. Perhaps willpower isn't bending my will through the brute force of my psyche but instead a flowing stream looking for opportunities to erode the banks of my unwanted behaviors and breaking through to new places to flow where my behaviors are more healthy. And where it doesn't erode quickly is acceptable too. Just be open to the idea that it can happen; that it will happen eventually.

Ok, I'm getting a little deep for even me. I've said it often and also recently--my life is not an afterschool special. But I'm in a pretty good place right now. Soon this moment will be in the past and new situations will present themselves. I will do my best to remember that I was once in this place.

Glimpses

2011-02-24T20:49:00.003-05:00

Several months ago, Karen from Before & After: A Real-Life Story left a comment that she thought we would all do better if we left the the whole war mentality behind when it came to our bodies and our selves. That has stuck with me even if I haven't always practiced it.

The notion that my fatness is something to fight is just so intuitive. Everything in me tells me that this weight loss, health gain thing is a battle. It is something I need to fight for; something I must struggle with and find the discipline to succeed. The problem is that in order for me to win, someone needs to lose...and I'm the only person in the game. I may end up at my goal weight and even regain my health, but I will still hate myself and my body for making go through the struggle.

Loving myself and accepting my body as it is...well, it's not intuitive. I don't know what it means. When I read "Love thyself, accept thyself" I get an image of hippies and flower power and trah la la and hugging trees. I get a feeling that I can only describe as unwarranted happiness. Love myself? Yeah. Right.

Today, however, I got a glimpse of what that might mean. And I'm struggling to put it into words.

I love my wife. It is the deepest, most abiding emotion I have ever experienced. When I think of her, I don't have images of hippies and puppies and trah la la. It is something visceral. It is something unconditional. It is something I give to her from some part of myself. And for a brief moment, the barest blink of an eye, I had the thought about what it would mean to give myself the same consideration and attention. And then it was gone.

I have been thinking about it all day. In that singular glimpse, I saw myself. And I was sad. Not angry. Not full of hate for myself. Just profoundly sad. How can I not have compassion for this man so beaten down by his own inner dialog?

Is this the magic bullet? Is this the epiphany that will turn it around? No, life isn't an after school special. I have a lot of work to do. I have 40 years of using the battle mentality to berate and discipline myself.

On Monday I made the decision to say something nice about myself every time I looked in the mirror. Today, as I got ready for work, I said to myself "I have a kind face and a nice smile."

It's a start.

And look where it took me today.

My dander is up

2011-02-21T13:26:00.001-05:00

I came across a blog post, actually a comment on a blog post, that's got me rather worked up. I'll not link to either the blog or the comment simply because the author, who addressed it in another post, did not address the commenter by name. I don't know how much of a splash on the blogosphere the author would want to make. I know some of you also read her blog so you may know what I'm talking about.

The author had posted about her frustration and depression about not progressing in her weight loss. The commenter replied along the lines of exhorting her to "keep in mind how her lows affect her husband." The commenter then went on say that she needs to remember her outlook affects others and asked if she frustrates them or makes them smile.

Really? This is helpful?

I got into this emotional mess by swallowing my feelings so as to not upset others. Like most boys, I learned not to cry, not to complain, not to upset others. Put the feelings of others before your own was my upbringing. Well, just how far can I stuff my emotions down before they affect me in other ways?

The commenter really hit a sore spot and then some. Don't upset your husband? WTF? Do people really still think this way? Fuck that. I don't know where I would be without my wife helping me navigate my emotional waters. I do know she would be dead if I had refused to take on her trials alongside. For better or for worse, not for better and what's best for Him.

I followed the commenter to his own blog. On that same day he wrote asking why some people are unhappy all the time and if they would just focus on the good and count their blessing, they would be happy. Has he never dealt with depression and mental illness, if not in his own life then in the life of a loved one?

So, dear readers, I tell you this: You are the most important person in your life. You do not need to surrender your Self to appease others. Complain on your blog if you want to (I'll no longer be afraid to complain on mine). Sure, it's ok to be aware how you affect others, but don't let it stop you from doing what you need to do for YOU.

Taking care of yourself first is the only way to even begin taking care of those you love.

In Brief

2011-02-16T13:10:00.002-05:00

1. Earned my 7 Day Chip over at Brad Gansberg's Thoughts On by going 7 days without a binge (today is day 9!)
2. Am walking 2-3 miles nearly every evening
3. Scale has been kind to me, though I'm not telling how much is gone
4. Put my pants on the other morning--and they fit
5. New job is going very well
6. and, what else... let's see...oh yeah!: Mrs. C got her job back in a manner of speaking. Instead of regular hours, they've hired her back as an "as needed" sub to cover vacation and sick leaves.

Right now, at this very moment, life is good.

Onions

2011-02-06T18:26:00.000-05:00

It's been a bit since I last posted. To tell the truth, for every two steps forward in getting a handle on my emotional health and it's integrated, interwoven effects on my physical health...it's usually a step backward. It's like an onion. Just when I feel I've let somethings go, truly feel that I am over some situation or worked through some negative self image, I find it again at a deeper level....a more basic level.

I have a lot of anger.

Without going into all the details, 2010 started out by a betrayal of a friend. That friend was also my pastor but I am careful to point out his breach of confidence was rooted in our shared friendship and not his confidential duties as a man of the cloth. It was final straw and the tipping point in my relationship with him. I ended up resigning my position as a lay leader in my congregation and pretty much withdrawing from church altogether. The rest of the church leadership got involved with the pastor in issues that went much deeper than my personal pain, and it ended with him tendering his resignation in June effective at the end of August.

There is no doubt in my mind, though, that he blames me for the majority of his failed ministry with my congregation. I have the e-mail.

I've consciously let go of my hurt and anger. It doesn't serve me. I know that I did not, as he put it, "damage his ability to participate in the relational structure of the congregation..." I have worked hard to let it go and not let the situation and the memories of the situation control my day to day emotional life. And I've been rather successful.

But then I peel a layer of the onion.

Things have changed in the way I relate to church, to members of my congregation and to how I experience God. I went to church today and we installed a new, interim pastor, and I've been moody all afternoon. Everything has changed. It isn't over simply because he left. There is aftermath that continues to affect my life and the lives of others. The situation of the former friend and pastor can be directly linked to my wife's emotional and mental health issues. The stress of the last year has been central in my weight gain. I have a lot of anger that I am left with this situation to deal with.

I'm not giving up. I'll keep peeling back that onion. Pastor Whosit surely isn't the only thing I'll find I'm sure. Keeping a positive attitude and squelching the negative self talk is a significant step forward for me given my past and personality. But denying what's buried deep down will not keep me moving forward.

I've got more work to do.

You know, this isn't a typical Jogging Clydesdale post. But it was important to write so I think I'll post it anyway.

Words

2011-01-25T13:48:00.002-05:00

Agile. Beauty. Calm.
Determination. Energize.
Feel. Gratitude. Health.
Integrity. Joy. Kevin.
Living. Merriment. New.
Overcome. Praise.
Quietness. Revel. Success.
Transform. Unify. Victory.
Wonder. Xanadu. Yes. Zen.

Alone. Berate. Cold.
Depressed. Evil. Fail.
Gall. Hell. Invisible.
Judge. Kevin. Lie.
Misuse. Never. Obese.
Putrid. Quell. Revile.
Stupid. Tiny. Unloved.
Vilify. Wretched. X. Yell. Z.

Which list would you guess was easier for me to compile?

Which list would you rather have going through your head?

I've always loved words. I've always found them to be powerful. I'm learning that I have spent 40 years underestimating that power. In just this little exercise I could feel a reaction within me dependent on which list I worked on. And I found that when working on the second group I had far more words come to mind and in rapid succession too.

That was revealing.

To paraphrase a well known saying "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words destroy within."

I encourage you to think of good words, uplifting words right now. Keep them with you in a special place (I imagine mine in a special folder just behind my eyes--but that's just me). Words mean things, and the words you tell yourself shape how you see yourself and the world around you.

I'll end this with my favorite three words:

Hope

Joy

Friend

What are yours?

A room with no view

2011-01-17T10:49:00.000-05:00

When I deny myself food, I feel that I do not love myself. I feel it deep down in a dark place I don't like to go to; in a dank room with dirty walls and a 40 watt bare bulb barely burning a presence in the darkness.

Where I am alone.

Where I store all my self doubt and my fears stacked like old documents in cardboard boxes.

Where whispers are kept silent.

I have learned that swallowing my emotions, both literally and figuratively keeps this room's door locked. And that is a problem.

It makes no sense. And it is maddening! Why would feeding my face keep this room locked away?

Let's go back to the begining. When I deny myself food, I feel that I do not love myself. And I feel it deep down in this room.

The room is Fear. And food is not the key, it is the box that the things I am afraid of are kept. When I deny myself food, I am letting the fear out.

I am not showing myself love when I eat. I am only avoiding the fear. I am not denying myself love when I deny myself foods I think I want. I am only letting the fear trick me into feelings I attribute to not loving myself.

I think I'm going to have to spend some time in that room. And I am afraid. I do not want to go there, but I do not want to live like this anymore.

In brief

2011-01-05T21:47:00.000-05:00

Struggling a bit today. Feeling overwhelmed by the fact I am back to my heaviest (on record) and have needed to buy a new wardrobe. It's been true for several weeks, but it is just hitting hard today. Hard to not feel a failure. Hard to love myself in spite of my imperfections. Hard to convince myself I am worthy.

These mind games are really putting a twist on me.

Therefore:

I acknowledge that these feelings exist and I declare that they have served their purpose: they have informed me that something is wrong; there is an imbalance in my life. I accept this, and I forgive myself for wallowing. I am so worth it and I will never be perfect. And I do love myself.

Even so, I am not too proud to say I could a couple of attaboys.

Back at it

2011-01-03T18:47:00.000-05:00

I jogged tonight. That's right ladies and gentlemen, the Jogging Clydesdale actually got his lardass out there and jogged! Been a long time since I've actually posted a running (ok, plodding) entry. I had been itching to get back out there but was afraid to do since I have packed all my weight back on. 310 is just so heavy to be out there pounding away. I decided on my way home from work, however, that I was just going to do it. And I did before I could talk myself out of it.

Mrs. C came with me and we had a nice jog around the subdivision. I am again using the Couch to 5K program so it was more walking than plodding. My ankles are very mad at me. But the air was crisp and evening fell into night. I haven't had such a pleasant run since, well, last spring I suppose.

I am going to pay for it in the morning.

Now I'm not going to make any public declarations that I am back on the wagon or that "this time I mean it." I know that I don't have the will power or discipline. Today is sufficient for today. Tomorrow is another day.

One day at a time, my friends.

Receiving Forgiveness

2011-01-01T23:21:00.002-05:00

Depression is nourished by a lifetime of ungrieved and unforgiven hurts.
Penelope Sweet

Forgive. Forgiveness. To give. To receive.

Which is harder? What is the power of forgiveness?

I want to explore receiving forgiveness, even asking for forgiveness. I know there are others in my life that I have hurt and I should go to them to apologize and ask their forgiveness. Opening myself up to that vulnerability is terrifying. So, for most of my life, I naively wait for those who I hurt to come to me first and forgive me unbidden.

The only one suffering is me. I spent so much emotional capital remembering who all I hurt, who I need to avoid, who I had to steel myself against should they bring up whatever it is that I did and prepare my self for the defense I rarely had to enact.

Let me tell you a story.

My senior year in college, I lived in the basement apartment of a college friend. His family was of more than modest means and he was able to purchase a house right out of college. He let me live there for free. I did not like his girlfriend. But I didn't hate her. Just your basic dislike. I didn't like her personality, her laugh, her being around, her...experience in... intimate matters. I didn't think she was a good match for my friend.

One day my brother stopped by. I thought my friend had left. So as I was giving my brother a tour, I lambasted the girlfriend and didn't hold back in what I thought of her. I was crueler with my words than I usually am. I slipped into a kind of locker room language. I was not nice. I thought I was being clever.

Well, of course, my friend was home. He came out of his bedroom, left with his girlfriend, had a nice dinner, came home and kicked my ass out. It was, for all intents and purposes, the end of a friendship. I had blown it. I apologized sincerely. What I said was a true representation of what I thought of the girlfriend, but how I said it and who I said it to was bad judgment I think he accepted my apology, but I don't know if he forgave me.

They got married. They have a beautiful family. My town is a small city. Plus all characters in this anecdote are all Mennonites. So we run into each other every now and again. And every time we did, I felt deep, abiding shame. Life lessons as an adult were teaching me that the things that had so bothered me about their living arrangements back then are a pittance to the real problems and decisions I needed to make and live through now.

I was ashamed at how I judged her.

One evening at the gym, about 12 years after the incident, she showed up with a daughter to work out. We made small talk (we had gotten to at least that part), said our good byes and I walked out of the weight room. I made it out to my van, sat about a minute, and went back in. I asked her if we could talk. I said, “All those years ago, I did things and said things about you that I regret now. I worked it out with Tom and I do believe he accepted my apology even though it did not restore the friendship. But I never talked to you about it. I am sorry for what I said. I was wrong. I had no place to say the things I did about you. And I'm tired of being overwhelmed with shame every time we meet. Will you forgive me?”

She cried. She pulled me into a long hug. She whispered, “yes, of course I do, and thank you.” And she still hugged. I cried a little too if I'm honest. And I felt wave after wave of relief.

It wasn't until I left the gym that night, though, that I realized I had been carrying about 20 pounds of fear, shame, memories, and worry. The mental weight loss was palpable and this kind of weight loss has stayed of. What happened between Tom and Carol and me is done. Its over. It doesn't require any more energy hold on to or to fear. Now when we meet, we smile and look each other in the eye. There is friendliness there that has been missing for more than a decade. Our lives are very different so I don't really expect a friendship to be restored with Tom or with his wife. But we can meet serendipitously and talk about college and about our kids and all the awkwardness is gone.

This month I am going to ask my body for forgiveness. I have abused it. I have ignored it. I have done things with it that bring shame to me when I remember my youth (remember: I was younger just last week than I am now). To open myself up to my body and ask for forgiveness makes me mental vulnerable. It's easier to keep ignoring my body and keep abusing it rather that to really make the decision to ask for its forgiveness. I'm going to ask my body's help in releasing the anger I have with it as well. I hate my belly. I hate my man boobs. I'm asking for my body to forgive me even as I find ways to show it love, knowing I will most likely fail several times before I can succeed.

Can you imagine the power you will have if you can truly repent and truly forgive yourself for what you've done to your body?

And a follow up to Carol, she's a runner and participates in many local races. We're friends on FB and we often leave comments of encouragements and celebrate our achievements. We ran the same race last fall (the one where so many asked if I was volunteering for the race) and she made me feel right at home as it was the first time I ran that race.

December 30th Resolution

2010-12-30T15:47:00.004-05:00

I do not like New Year's resolutions and do not plan on making any. Instead, I resolve to take Today as it is, leave Yesterday behind and let Tomorrow come as it may. And I am likely to resolve tomorrow in the same manner.

I am really working on staying in the moment and accepting it as it is. This past fall has been a nightmare and I'm tired of being mired in it. I'm tired of fearing it will come back. My wife is healthy today. I am happy today. My children are cared for today. Of course, today isn't all sunshine and lollipops and puppies and tuna & noodle casserole, but it is as it is and there is nothing I can do but work on how I react and accept this truth.

There is nothing that can be done about the past but to learn from it and there is nothing the future that we can know or can control. Today is all we have, all that is manifest and it is gone the moment as we notice it.

I have to get back to work. Today's coffee break is over.

Happy December 30th everybody!!!

Bump at Lesson 3

2010-12-27T15:42:00.002-05:00

I've been making my way, slowly, through Marianne Williamson's book, A course in weight loss (citation at the end of this post) after one of my favorite bloggers, Karen at Before & After suggested it to me. I've only made it through 5 of the 21 lessons and I'm struggling a bit with it.

The author's main point seems to be that, until I resolve the very basic fears and issues I have with myself, no amount of dieting program or exercise will be successful in the long run. I believe that, and the 21 lessons are a guide in helping me navigate down to the core of my negativity and building myself back up.

It is pretty powerful stuff.

I've gotten a fair bit of positive comments on my preceding post, Letters from a madman. That was the result of working through lesson 2. I was completely thrown by what my thin self had to say to my fat self, AND vice versa. I honestly had no idea how much I was holding in. My wife took me to task for dropping the F-bomb not once, but twice. But those letters convey exactly what my different perspectives I have of myself have to say.

Working through the book, however, it becomes clear that it was written with a strong focus on giving up to God my struggles and desire to control my habits. Much like the AA program, I'm asked to believe in a higher power that can overcome my food addictions or compulsive eating because I certainly do not have the power to do it alone (or at all). That's a problem. Despite the fact that I am a 40 year old Mennonite man, baptized at 16, member of a congregation and, until recently, an appointed member of that congregation's leadership team...I have a very, very hard time with my faith. I am a closet agnostic who wants to believe, wants to share with a body of believers, but, in the end, I know I cannot categorically say I know there is more.

And I wonder if it is worth pursuing this book further if I am continually encouraged to place my trust in the Divine Mind.

Much of what I read in her book makes sense and has already made an impact. I am aware, now, just how much self loathing I have created and carry (well, I know how much I've discovered...there may be more to come). I am trying to accept myself and be comfortable with my size to the point where it is no longer a problem for me to solve, but a life I can choose. Or not choose. I am convinced more than ever that before any meaningful change, I must learn that I am important enough for me to love unconditionally. And this doubt in a higher power so early in the book is a stumbling block as I begin this journey.

The author invites the reader to take whatever notion of a higher power one can feel comfortable with. Right now the only power I feel comfortable in taking on is Love. I know that is corny. But there are so many people in my life who have shown me love even when I don't always recognize it. The love of my wife, my parents and my children (and, occasionally, my brothers). The love of my 20 warriors who journeyed with me when I lost 60 pounds in 08-09; and journeyed with me again when I put it all back on. The love of the readers who come by my blog, strangers for the most part, but still willing to leave a message of encouragement or sympathy or empathy. The love of my many friends IRL and elsewhere on the internets.

If I can learn to give myself that kind of power from myself to myself, I will get past lesson 3 and move on.

And, as promised, the bibliographic information:

Williamson, Marianne. A Course in Weight Loss: 21 Spiritual Lessons for Surrendering Your Weight Forever. Carlsbad, CA: Hay House, 2010. Print.

Letters from a madman

2010-12-21T18:19:00.001-05:00

Dear Fat Me,

I fucking hate you. You are every weakness, every painful memory. You remind me daily of my failures. You get in the way when I bend to tie my shoes. You breathe heavy. You cost me money in food, in clothes, in diet programs. You bring to mind so many images of loathing I don't what to write first. You limit me in what I can enjoy. How am I supposed to love you when you disgust me?

Yours truly,

Thin Me

Dear Thin Me,

Fuck you asshole. You think I want to be here? You think I want to be outside and separate from you? Do you really think your judgments and your scorn and your distrust and your hatred is helpful? I am here to be with you when you are sad, when you are hurt, when you are scared. I give you what you want but I only know one way to do it. And you've never thanked me. I have cared for you the best I know how and I'm sorry if I've disappointed you.

Love,

Fat Me

Dear Fat Me,

I never thought of you in those terms before. I never realized it was you who sought to comfort me and protect me. I guess I thought I was doing OK and was annoyed by your interference. But, you are right. You have comforted me and have done what you can to protect me. I thank you for that. I know you love me or else you would not have worked so hard at caring for me. But what you are doing is hurting both of us. It works for the short term, perhaps only a few minutes, perhaps for a day, but the long term is killing us. That's all I'll say on that. I am grateful for your comfort and care. I'm not ready for the "L" word, but I do see how I can begin to accept you.

-Thin Me

Dear Thin Me,

Well, I'm not afraid to say I love you although I understand why it will be difficult for you. I want to be a part of you again. I want to learn new ways of helping you cope, or feel good about your self. I think it is OK that you're not ready to love me back. I'm here for you either way. Just watch it with the judgement, OK? That doesn't do us any good.

Love,

Fat Me

Dear Fat Me,

That sound fair enough. I do have a lot of affection for you even when I am so negative about you. This bizarre exercise has shown me how you have tried to care for me. It's just that I tend to put all my fears and anger and self loathing on you. It is easier to blame you than it is to accept you. And that is not fair to you or to me.

Give me some time, OK?

-TM

Dear Thin Me,

Take as much time as you need. I'm not going anywhere fast.

Love,

Fat Me

PS I'm gonna put this on the blog.

Update

2010-12-11T12:42:00.000-05:00

I've not been able to post lately. Partly due to life, partly due to avoidance.

I have a new job. That is, I've accepted a position in my library's administration office on a half time basis through May, but I'm still overseeing my branch library on a half time basis as well. So, I am on a huge learning curve, splitting my time between two jobs and doing neither very well. But the temporary position may very well lead to a permanent position that I've been working towards for many years now.

My wife continues to improve, and I find myself crashing because of it. For the last 5 months, I've needed to be rather vigilant in her care. Now that this chapter is closing, I am having to redefine my role again. This is not a bad thing, but even good change can leave me stressed and lost.

I am not following any of my plans. But I do not see this as a backslide. It is a moment of my life where I have decided to make other things a focus in my life. I am mindful of what I eat and I note when I am overeating, but I'm not as careful as I could be. I do use my hard earned skills at regulating emotional eating when I am aware, but for now it is far simpler to eat what everyone else is eating. And with our current income, that means some protein, veggies and a lot of pasta.

I am exhausted but excited as well. I am doing my best to keep it together. For now, that is all I can do.

No Whammies--thud

2010-11-28T16:54:00.000-05:00

Lately I've been dealing with my own issues of depression and self image. It comes with all the expected bouts of binge and shame. And of course it comes at Thanksgiving, a day designed for gluttony anyway.

Actually, I did very well (I think) this year on Thanksgiving. Loaded up on the protein, stopped before I was gorged, and did very little snacking. Really. Even despite the bowl of chips and homemade French onion dip. I'm not a big dessert man so that wasn't even a temptation. Aunt Wanda's turkey gravy on the other hand....

Upon returning home from my cousin's house, however, all bets were off. I just continued where I left off mired in my darkened inner self.

Depression is an awful beast. Knowing I'm depressed doesn't make it any easier. It feeds itself as it speaks to the inner loathing I have for my food weakness. And it got a double whammy on me as I ran across an old evaluation I recieved in college that was quite harsh. I'm 40 years old, and that damn document can still peg every insecurity I had in school. Yeah, I should get rid of it. But its one of those things that has a lot of praise in it as well. When I read it in a better mind space, it puts me on cloud 9. I'm pretty screwed up, ain't I?

~~New week. New day.~~ Now. Now is the perfect time to get back on that damn horse.

An autumn rain

2010-11-23T22:26:00.003-05:00

I am standing at the front door watching the rain. The cold wind bites at my face and I should close the door. I don't. I watch. The grey clouds move from west to east; the sun obscured. Everything is cold. Every thing is wet. Water puddles along the curbside where dirt and debris has gathered. It is a dismal sight. It makes me long for sunnier days like the ones from my memories as a child on a small hobby farm. When the summer days and the autumn nights were spent making my own fun in the woods, along the lane, in the rock piles at the back of the pasture. Memories that will never be again. I close the door and sit on my couch.

I am standing at the front door watching the rain. The cold wind invigorates a face too warm from being indoors too much. I should close the door. I don't. I watch. The grey clouds race across the sky as a visual witness to the storm raging above. Everything is cleaned. Everything is washed. Water flows from the streets into the gutters racing toward the drains; overflowing the puddles forming at the curbside along. The sun may be obscured behind the grey clouds but I know it is there and is powerful enough to bring light to a glorious day. Everything is renewed. It makes me think of my own struggles to be renewed, to be cleansed and reborn. Of memories yet to come if only I am brave enough to reach out for it.

Two outlooks. One rainstorm.

I close the door. And I sit on my front step, soaking to the bone and become chilled. I know I will be warm again, but for now, it is my cleansing.

Counting vs Knowing

2010-11-15T16:55:00.002-05:00

In my last post, I mentioned that I'm not going to count calories. I'm going to "know calories." That distinction is important to me. I know that if I count calories to some predefined limit, I will chafe and rebel. I know that, once meet that predefined limit, I will look at the rest of the day as depriving myself. I know that when I cross that limit, I will not control myself but instead will say "what the hell, I blew it anyway. Where's that bag of chips and, oh, how about just a pint of dip this time?" I know myself well enough. It's one reason why points don't work for me either.

But, knowing what calories I've taken in makes a huge difference. It's about being mindful. It's about learning. It's about paying attention. It's a completely different mindset. And it works. I'm learning about how the little bites of everything add up, and add up fast. I'm mindful of what I decide to eat. I plan ahead.

I know what is going on.

It's hard to describe in words what I'm experiencing. A "rebirth" is much too dramatic. A "revelation" is over stating it too. I'm experiencing...growth. I'm experiencing...control. And it is rather exciting. Sure I've already had days where I went way over what was healthy, but I know by how much I did and I can wrestle with the questions of why and, more importantly, if I really want to do that again. What's more, this approach seems to fit better with my personality and the way I process information. It's putting things in a structure, a system, that makes sense (to me at least).

I honestly did not know just how many calories I was putting into my body when I binge. And now that I have that little piece of information, or know how I can go about finding it, I have something to make an informed decision with. Sure, I did read the nutritional guides on the sides of things, and that does in a pinch. Using livestrong.com, however, brings it all in to sharp focus as it tallys and displays the information for me. I do wonder if I will have the discipline to continue doing this.

So far, so good.

Kevin's Plan

2010-11-10T11:55:00.001-05:00

I have a plan.

I plan to run a 5K on Jan 1.

I plan to train for that run. And I plan to run it with my son and daughter.

I plan on tracking my calories and whatnot on livestrong.com

I plan on knowing my calories, not counting them.

I plan on returning to my program once my wife is healthy and back to work.

I plan to work diligently on mindfulness; to avoid negative self talk; to tell myself I am good and I deserve health.

I plan on staying on this journey through the good and the bad; to accept that setbacks are unavoidable.

I am a good person.

And you are too.

There are a few things in this list I want to write more about in the future, but for now, it's a plan. Not a goal.

I'm losing, and not in the good way

2010-11-04T05:18:00.001-04:00

I know its tough. I know what it's like to do so well then fall so far. You wonder just where the hell you got the strength in the first place. Then you wonder just where the hell it went and why you can't get it back. It is so confusing to understand and none of us have any answers.

I wrote those words as a comment to fellow blogger Previously Plump... in progress a couple of weeks ago. This morning, I woke up thinking about those words in context with my own life. It's 4:30 in the morning, I am miserable and in a shame cycle, and I cannot get my head around why I have no control.

While my wife's health is much improved, there are still periods of time where she will slip back into a poorer state that just frighten me to death. The emotional roller coaster I am on and have been on for the last 3 months is just unbearable. And I feel so unequipped to deal with facing down my emotional eating when my emotions are in such constant flux. I've had to miss so much work in order to care for my wife and family. I've recently needed to have a gut wrenching talk with my oldest who is very angry with his mother for being ill and not being available to him (like many, he understands intellectually that she is sick, but on an emotional level he just can't accept it--I doubt many 15 yo boys could).

The election did not go well for me. I don't want to get into politics, but given that I work for a taxed based institution, a Republican controlled statehouse, treasury and governor's office in Indiana does not bode well for my library's future. There is nothing left to cut if we still want to serve our public with basic services. Privatization, forced consolidation and staff cuts are all quite possible under Gov. Mitch Daniel's strong arm. And I'm not making a political argument here. I'm explaining the stress I feel. My job, my profession and my vocation's core services may be changed by politicians who have no understanding of what it is we really do. Hint: we're more than books, reading programs for kids and overdue fines.

I am binging like no body's business. If I understand why I am binging though, why can't I stop? Where is that self control that lead me to lose over 60 pounds just 2 years ago? Did I have no stress in 2008-09?

I am losing this battle. I am losing this war. I cannot gain a stronghold against my enemy. How can I when my enemy is myself--my unconscious mind who is convinced he is serving me well by doing what he has always done? That bugger is more powerful than any of us think in guiding how our life is spent and trying to get him to change his course is difficult to say the least.

I will not be writing a future post wherein I bounce back with specific references to this post. Future successes and failures will be on their own merit. But right now I feel defeated. Utterly and totally crushed.

Angry

2010-10-31T13:54:00.001-04:00

I am so angry. With myself. Since I needed to drop out of the program at the hospital, I've been winging it. I've had my good days and my bad days. Yesterday I thought was one of my rather good days. It wasn't.

Several people have been encouraging me to get on Sparkpeople and check out what that site has to offer. To be honest, the site is just too busy visually for me to feel comfortable using it. It's like visual claustrophobia. That said, I did find my way to the nutritional section and I decided to plug in everything I ate yesterday. Now, I thought I had done real well. Portion control, guessed at my calories, my grams of carbs and proteins. I thought I had consumed about 1500 calories. Well, after I plugged in my foods, I found I had consumed more than twice that.

OMG, I've been on this journey for more than 2 years and I still don't have clue as to how much I am eating in terms of calories consumed. I am terrified of eating today for fear of going overboard. I don't want to use Sparkpeople's meal plans as I simply can't afford the diverse shopping list it would require for me, and then the normal shopping for the rest of the family. Portion control is pretty much what I'm limited to, though choices of lean proteins and complex carbs can always play a role.

Counting my blessings

2010-10-29T11:51:00.004-04:00

I've been hemming and hawing about whether or not to expound on my thoughts about Maura Kelly and her recent blog blow up. If you haven't read it, you can here and a link to a solid, sound response (the best I've found yet)* can be found here. But to sum it up, Kelly put her foot in her mouth when she said that she would find it disgusting to watch fat people be affectionate on TV, indeed that watching a fat person walk across the room is too much to bear in real life. And it gets worse from there, partly because she seems to be in earnest that she's really writing to help the overweight.

I don't have a real need to vilify her. Plenty of others on the interwebs have done enough of that. Instead, the whole thing has gotten me rather reflective about my own situation. I've been rather lucky that I have not experienced a lot of prejudice and nasty comments from strangers. And those I get from friends and family are mild and only on occasion. Some of the stories are downright funny if you ask me. A few years back a patron of the branch library, where I work as the librarian and staff supervisor, called to complain about customer service. I took the phone call, listened to the gentleman, then asked if he knew who on my staff had treated him so poorly. He said: "It was that really fat guy." I responded, "Well, sir, I'm the only male employee here so it must have been me. What can I do to make the situation better?" There was silence, then he said "Well, I guess we're even." Then he hung up.

It isn't to say that I have escaped harsh words and judgmental looks from others. Simply that it doesn't happen too often to me. This brouhaha around Kelly's post actually reminds me how lucky I've been to have such a fantastic network of friends and family. I have a feeling that it has partly to do with the fact that I'm male. Most of my female friends have many more horror stories than my male friends in this regard. Or it could also be that I'm just clueless, which actually tends to go along with being male.

Still, there is one thing that many well meaning people in my life do that cuts deeper than most. If they see me snacking, they'll ask "are you sure you want to do that?" My former pastor was notorious for this one. It bothers me because a flat out insult can be processed and ignored rather quickly in my headspace (ok, I'm not that laid back, but in comparison...) but these statements carry a stench of "Father Knows Best" that really rubs the wrong way. And I can guarantee that it will have the opposite effect. It doesn't work when I shame myself, what is it about these people that they think they can shame me into a healthier lifestyle? Many friends and family who say that to me say it only once. But some just don't get a clue.

Where is all this leading? I have no freaking clue. Like many in my situation, the emotions caught up in lifestyles destructive to healthy living are complex. If I write next week, I would probably come up with a whole litany of slights and insults, judgments and injustice. But right now, I'm feeling pretty good about myself so this is really all the bluster I can muster after following the train-wreck at Kelly's blog.

*Update: Josh Shahryar's response is fantastic in its rational counter arguments and analysis, Jen Lancaster's response is simply brilliant.

Stop, in the name of love

2010-10-27T16:33:00.000-04:00

First things first, I haven't been able to poke around at other people's blogs. The stable is still a bit unstable and I just haven't had the time to really reflect on myself or visit my friend's blogs. Mrs. C is finishing up her treatments and the results have been stunning. She was offically let go yesterday, but she actually applied for a job at the same place of employment that starts mid to end of Novemember....so here's hoping. In the meantime, I hope to get to some other's blogs and catch up.

Now for what's really been on my mind.

All day today a phrase has been stuck in my head: "The Clydesdale Jogger loves himself too much to eat that chocolate chip cookie." Yes, there are times I think in third person.

I'm not sure where the phrase came from, but I'm glad it has popped up. For one thing, my mother in law is staying with us while Mrs. C is recovering and she makes excellent baked goods. For another, it has been flexible enough to hold on to and get through the impulsive cravings that I have. While the phrase remains chocolate chip cookies, it came up when I considered the bowl of candy corn on N's desk, or the chocolate in the reference department, or stopping by McDonald's for a nasty cheezburger (because who would know? I can throw the evidence away in the dumpster alley before I go in to administration for a meeting). But, dammit, Clydesdale Jogger loves himself too much to eat these things.

Hopefully this device will help at least in the short run. What sort of devices have you all found useful?

But oh that magic feelin'...

2010-10-21T17:41:00.002-04:00

I'm gettin' that antsy feeling. The one you get when you know you're finally approaching the decision you know you want to make but for whatever reason you avoid it. The one where you say to yourself, 'time to get healthy' and know you actually mean it this time.

I'm getting there.

Mrs. C's new regimen is doing wonders. I cannot believe the improvement we are experiencing in only a week's time after 3 months of illness--spirit crushing illness. The atmosphere in the stable is palpably lighter and there is laughter. And I feel renewed.

Much of what brought so much stress in the last half of '09 through the fall of '10 has finally found its way to closure--and the friendship that was lost no longer troubles me. I know it's a bit cryptic, but no one enjoys it when a friendship disintegrates, especially if it was for circumstances beyond one's control; especially if it needed to happen to protect one's boundaries. I will need to live with the knowledge that the other party places the overwhelming majority of the problem at my feet and will never consider his own failure. But given our last chance encounter, I find myself untroubled. That chapter is closed.

Life certainly ain't perfect and I do have problems focusing on the goal. I did stop by the 7-11 for chips and dip, knowing it was a mistake. But it feels like my subconscious is trying to get in a few last hurrahs.

This isn't a "well, I'll start tomorrow" kinda thing knowing tomorrow never comes. I'm not sure when I will start. But I feel like the knots in life are unraveling and the clarity is returning.

Food is My Friend: 6 Tips for Mindful Eating

2010-10-19T12:32:00.000-04:00

Food is My Friend: 6 Tips for Mindful Eating

Another blog I follow, Tinybuddha.com, just posted a great post on mindful eating that I wanted to share!

Quick Thoughts

2010-10-19T08:21:00.001-04:00

What Works:

--Planing the day. Deciding either what I will have for each meal or have a plan on how to approach the day's nourishment. Could be an actual menu, could be an understanding of what will and will not be acceptable.
--Exercise. Feels great when I'm done. Gives me a sense of accomplishment. I find it motivating to occasionally tweet or put a status on FB saying I plan to run/bike/walk etc and ask for someone to volunteer to follow up the next day and inquire if I accomplished it. Need to do that more often.
--Talking to family and friends. Not necessarily about health and nutrition. Just being engaged. Need to try to stay on the positive, but it's nice to know there are those I can unload on if need be.
--Meditate. Or prayer. Or what have you. I succeed more when I stay in what I've learned to call Wise Mind, as opposed to Emotional Mind. It is a hard balance and Emotional Mind is very powerful. It cannot be ignored nor can Wise Mind solve every problem. But Wise Mind can give direction to Emotional Mind's potential.

What Doesn't Work:

--Grazing. I keep thinking just one more snack will satisfy, but it never does.
--Eating to settle the stomach. This one really doesn't make sense, but I often eat because I feel nauseous and think that a little something will settle things down.
--Broad Accountability. I find myself to still be a paper tiger. What I pour out here is shaded and not the complete truth, though I continue to strive to be more honest with myself and, thus, with you. That said, I have tried to hold myself accountable to groups of friends, but ultimately I am missing being accountable to myself. Narrow accountability, like I described above in the exercise bullet, works very well.
--Mind games. I can justify everything I eat even though I know I am killing myself.
--Couch Potato. I don't feel as good as I do when I am regularly exercising.

These are today's thoughts. Who knows what my list would look like next week, next month or next year. Anyone else have suggestions of what does or doesn't work for you?

Choose

2010-10-14T10:23:00.000-04:00

Standing on a corner waiting
To cross or should I
Walk to the next road?

Cross now and commit to
Following this road or
Risk an unkown detour

This road is familiar I
Have been down it before it
Takes me to where I've been

The other road goes
To where I know not but
Perhaps to better places

Standing on a corner waiting
The traffic never ceasing the
Light never changing

I wonder what is
Down there
On the other road.

Brief Update

2010-10-12T16:16:00.000-04:00

1) Kept to my plan and ran last evening: 5K in 49:08

2) Mrs. C's is moving forward with a new regimen that should be beneficial.

3) I did not eat everything in sight after learning Mrs. C will begin said regimen as it includes in-patient at the hospital--and learning her insurance benefits run out at the end of Oct instead of Nov like we had planned.

A man and his plan

2010-10-11T15:54:00.001-04:00

I have only got in one run since that 5K two Saturdays ago. I plan on rectifying that tonight. I really don't know why I procrastinate on running when I know that A) it's good for me 2) I feel good when I'm done and thirdly, it gives me a moment to clear my head. And, right now, that head clearing is what I need more than anything.

I've tiptoed around my wife's illness because I didn't think it appropriate to share in such a public place. But I think now I will share that her problems are centered in the area of mental health. Depression and anxiety disorders are real and they are painful. The stress in the stable is underpinned with a overwhelming sense of hopelessness. This is definitely true for her, but equally true for myself. If she had a broken leg, I'd know what to do. If she had cancer, I'd learn what to do. With mental health disorders, there is NOTHING I can do but support, comfort and journey with her. And that never seems like enough. A large part of the stress is being an advocate to the different medical institutions (hate that word) and keeping them on the ball. It doesn't help that I, too, struggle with depression though not to such a debilitating degree. Or does it? I think what I'm getting at is there is very little I can do to help her heal other than provide a safe place to be.

With this in mind, I am not surprised in the least in my struggle with emotional eating. What I struggle with the most is impulse control. I can plan all I want, but when I walk into the kitchen and my MIL (who is a rock and I love dearly) has baked a dozen cookies...it isn't pretty. I have found myself almost in a literal daze as I enter the gas station and purchase chips, dip and a diet soda. I know at every turn I have the power to chose otherwise, but the id, the unrelenting drive underneath the conscious mind, is powerful.

I will run tonight. I will exercise Wise Mind in an effort to control my impulses. And should I falter, I will not shame myself for my weakness, but I will reflect on how I could have done better. And, these aren't goals. I've learned not to share goals (really. I gave up soda for two weeks largely because I didn't tell anyone I was giving it up). It is my plan and that will be good enough for now.

Paper Cuts

2010-10-07T16:41:00.005-04:00

I've been poking around at other blogs and discovering many wonderful people struggling with the same things I struggle with. It has been a thrill to know I am not alone and I have enjoyed the comments and support I receive here on The Jogging Clydesdale. Recently I came across The Anti-Jared and I just stopped in my tracks. In particular, his post I am a food addict has had me thinking for many days.

He says many of us are paper tigers when it comes to facing our unhealthy ways. I admit it. I touched upon it in my post This is Bullsh*t (though I didn't know it had a name). And it was that post that got JackSh*t's attention, put me in touch so many other wonderful people and started me on this resurgence of blogging and getting geared up to fit my health battles again.

But...I am still a paper tiger. I bluster a lot, both here and in real life, about my diet and my running. I know what needs to be done but I often believe I lack the skill, the will, the drive or the knowledge to really kick it into gear.

I admit that I am still unwilling to really believe I can do this.

I am a food addict. I wish food were just fuel that sometimes tastes good. No, food is comfort. Food is love. Food is satisfaction. Food is distraction. Food is shame. Food is joy. Food is a reflection of emotions. Food is celebration. Food is family. Food is a gift that you share with yourself and with others to show that you care.

Food takes away the pain and the emptiness. But only for a moment. And then that moment is gone.

And I write these things knowing full well that it is lies. Food is none of these things, but it is how I experience food everyday. Each and every day I eat because of one of these things I list or several dozen equally false reasons I haven't listed. Rarely do I eat because I am hungry. Rarely is it because I need fuel.

Currently my wife is very sick and in a lot of anguish. She lost her job after exhausting her medical leave of absence. The stress is intense and having to take care of the family, the house, keep my own job and all the other things normal life throws at you is difficult enough. Having to drop out of a structured weight loss program I believed in (though haven't faithfully followed for quite awhile) was a blow. My structure is gone. Food has become again all the things I was convinced I had put behind me.

I am a paper tiger. I am a food addict. I am feeling lost.

But I am not alone.

In addition to all the new friends I have met through this blog, I have many IRL friends and family who have said they are willing to walk this journey with me. Not just the food, but the journey of life that has been gifted to me. I have family, both from my side and my wife's, willing and able to help out in the house. My MIL is here and plans to stay for another 6 weeks or longer to help us and to take care of her daughter so I can keep everything else together. I have friends I can talk to, in person, on the phone and in the internets.

I still don't know how to answer Jack's challenge to answer "why I do this here." But with every post here at TJC and with every day's meditation, I hope to get closer to that answer.

I really am a paper tiger and I am addicted to food and all the lies it has become. That said, paper tigers can grow teeth and lies can be countered with truth. And addictions can be overcome.

~~Tomorrow~~ Tonight is as good as any to start the teething pain.

Things I hate

2010-10-04T19:14:00.000-04:00

You know what I hate? I hate it when I am smack dab right where I need to be on plan and I begin to wonder just when I'm going to fall. I begin thinking about all the good stuff in the kitchen and ruminate about just when I'm going to cave. It just drives itself to the front of my mind until I can't concentrate on anything else. And, finally, I give in if only to relieve myself of the burden of not knowing when I'm going to give in. And then I start thinking, well I've blown it for today, might as well keep going. As if there was something magical about sleeping at night and starting with a clean slate in the morning. Before you know it, all the cereal, popcorn, granola bars, bacon, graham crackers, and chips are gone. That's right, in a span of 20 minutes I chokedown a couple of days worth of calories and carbs.

All because I began to worry about when I was going to fail.

I hate that.

A Body of Conspiracy

2010-10-01T13:16:00.010-04:00

Brain: Ok, lets get started. I think you know why we're all here but for the benefit of the newcomers, Hips--everyone say hi to Hips.

Everyone: Hi Hips.

Hips: Good to be here.

Brain: As I was saying, we're here to figure out our strategy in keeping the Clydesdale Jogger from his exercise and wellness this week. Who wants to go first?

Calves: Well, I'm thinking of cramping up on the left and working with Ankles on the right to ache where he broke some bones some time ago.

Ankles: Yeah.

Brain: Right, so the same thing as last week and the week before. Anything new?

Calves: No, not really. But I'm still trying to talk Arches into taking one for the team but he's a coward.

Arches: Hey!

Brain: Ok then. What else?

Stomach: I'm going to try pretending I'm empty, but I'm going to need some help from upstairs.

Brain: You got it. How about you Tongue?

Tongue: Mmm?

Brain: I'd like you to want salty, greasy, crunchy things, Ok?

Tongue: Mmm Hmm.

Brain: Great. Anyone else?

Hips: Well, we're new here, but we think you all know about our work during his last 5K. We surprised him quite a bit and we think so long as we stay a little tender, he's gonna flake out.

Brain: Sounds like a plan Hips, and we don't use the Royal We here.

Hips: Sorry.

Brain: Right. And everyone remembers that Knees is taking the month off so he doesn't get suspicious?

Everyone: Yes.

Thighs: Hey Brain, if you can get him to forget his Bodyglide (R), I'll do my best to chafe. He really hates that.

Brain: You got it. Arms?

Arms: What

Brain: What will you do if this is the week he decides to start the 6 weeks to 100 pushups program?

Arms: Hurt

Brain: Good man. Economy of words. I like it. Ok then, I'll do my best to sabotage his self esteem (Belly Fat I'm looking to you for some support there), distract him with all the stress in his life (a lucky break for us), and pretty much make him think of food all the time. Any questions?

Clydesdale Jogger: Yeah, I have a question. Why wasn't I invited to this party?

Brain: Oh crap. He's on to us. Well boys, it was good while it lasted.

The Expanding Clydesdale

2010-09-29T12:43:00.000-04:00

So, we've all been there. Stress so overwhelming and food so comforting. It has not been an easy week. My stress eating has been rather controlled, but today I am losing it.

Because of a reduction of income, I've needed to drop out of my medically supervised "rapid" weight loss program at the hospital. I just can't afford the $80/week in supplements and classwork or the $65/mo medical check in any more. And I really miss the weekly encouragement and having someone to talk to. So I guess Clydesdale Jog will be evolving into my place to check in and talk about wellness far beyond just running.

So here are the stats. In August 2008 I started the program at 310 lbs and did no exercise. By May 2009, I had lost 50 pounds and started running on the Couch to 5K program. By August I had lost another 15 pounds, but in September I started a medication garunteed to put on the weight. 20 pounds in that month. It was during that time that events around me started exploding and the stress has been continuous since then. I am now back to 285. But I run and I am more mindful of what I eat. Having met this online group of bloggers, I feel a certain accountability to MYSELF that I haven't felt in over a year.

Thanks to all of you who have dropped by and left comments. It has been more helpful than you know.

I'm so tired, I haven't slept a wink

2010-09-27T16:52:00.000-04:00

I don't know what I'm going to do. I've alluded in the past that my wife is sick. She's not been able to work since the very end of July. Today we found out that if she doesn't return by this Friday, she will lose her position. If she's not back by October 24, she'll be let go entirely.

There is a treatment for what ails her. We've been waiting 2 weeks for treatment to start. But a medication that is needed is in short supply nationwide. So we keep getting told next week. Always next week. If she had started two weeks ago, it is very likely she'd be back in shape by the 24th. Now.....

Stripped to the bone, my salary can cover our mortgage, bills and expenses. But if I need to pick up her insurance, since she covers the kids as well, there is no way we can make it. I'll be half a grand short every month.

OMG. I know this is supposed to be a running blog or a weight loss blog. But the stress I am experiencing is overwhelming. I want to eat everything in sight. The only thing stopping me is knowing I can't afford to.

Thanks for listening.

Complaints from the Back of the Pack: A Race Report

2010-09-26T15:53:00.001-04:00

Yesterday's race was both rewarding and incredibly insulting. I'm not exactly sure what to write about either feeling.

I arrived at the fairgrounds for the Michiana Relief Sale 5K about an hour before start time. I checked in, made some small talk with the other runners. Sipped on my water. Agreed that yes it was chilly but it was going to be a good run. Then someone asked where I was going to be stationed.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Aren't you volunteering for the race?" he said.

"No. I'm running."

The slightest pause passed, just enough to notice.

"Good for you!"

This happened three times. And it really pissed me off. Each time the person got a silly smile on their face, like they wanted to pat my head and buy me a pony. Yes, I'm a fat guy that's gonna run. How about "What's your goal?" or "Hey, great! Good luck in the race!" or "Been running long?" or any of the other banter I heard all around me?

But it wasn't going to spoil my run.

As the fates would have it, a treasured friend from high school happened to be in town and attended the race. My friend is, I believe, 6'5" and as lanky as a cat. In fact, back in the day, we were known as Calvin and Hobbes. But that's another story. Hobbes found me and we immediately fell into the familiarity of old friends. We agreed that he need not stay with me through the race, but he did want to come back and find me after he had finished. He wanted to pace me as I finished up.

There was a lot of people there I knew. It's a small town and the relief sale is put on by my denominational church, so there was even a greater chance of meeting someone I knew, or was related to. It was great to see old friends besides Hobbes, but I will admit about being nervous about running with, and embarrassing myself in front of so many I knew.

We lined up and started off after the 2K walkers left the track. The route took us around the half mile horse track twice, then out into the parking area, back into the fair grounds and then back to the track for the last half mile. I got lapped by the leader just shy of the first half mile. No problem. I knew that was going to happen. I knew I was going to be at the back of this pack. As I was finishing my first lap, the timer was calling out pace times and I remembered that the organizer said that he'd be doing this. Half mile in 7 minutes. Not great, but about my average.

By the second time around, the timer wasn't calling out the pace. He was off to the side drinking coffee. That pissed me off too. I may be slow, but I deserve the respect that was afforded the faster runners too. It wasn't as if I was in last place. I had 5 runners behind me. Nor was it as if I hadn't finished in the 1 hour allotted to the race time. This happened throughout the race. Volunteers that were posted to guide runners through the fairgrounds left their post by the time I came through. That pisses me off.

Still, it really was a good run insofar as the pace was good and hard. I was about a mile from the finish when Hobbes joined up with me. We chatted a bit, though my pace was a little higher than would allow a comfortable conversation. This was, after all, a race. He kept me going, encouraging me, asking how I trained and what else I was doing this summer. And we talked about his training for a half marathon he was running in a month. I really enjoyed that last mile.

His longer stride did push up my pace a bit, but it wasn't anything I couldn't handle. And before I knew it, there was the chute. I did kick it for the last 100 yards or so even though there wasn't anyone to race ahead of. Crossed the line at 40m47s. It was nearly a minute and a half off my race last weekend. I was really pleased.

But I was disappointed that other runners had already walked off. Some had already picked up their prizes and were walking around the sale. Now, I'm not being a whinny ass here. The other runners don't owe me anything and I certainly didn't expect everyone to stick around at the finish line for the back of the pack. But there was no one. Except Hobbes. Where was the congeniality of runners that I've been reading about?

So, what a mix of emotions. A good hard run. Great time spent with an old friend. A marked improvement in my pace and time. Didn't come in dead last. And yet, I experienced condescension, apathy and downright been ignored.

After posting this, I am letting it go. I met my goals and I will be there next year.

Race Report -- New Directions 5K

2010-09-21T22:19:00.003-04:00

First off, I don't know how to write a proper race report. Second, this really wasn't a proper race. Ok, now that we have that taken care of, let me tell you a story.

The New Directions program at the local hospital is a medically supervised "rapid" weight loss program that I have been trying to follow for the last two years. It really is a good program when I choose to not sabotage myself. The merits of a medically supervised program certainly has its pros and cons. But that's not what is important right now. What is important is that every September the program holds a 5K fun run for its clients and their families

There were 12 runners this year. Of the twelve, I believe I was the only client to run that was still in "weight loss" mode. Others were either family or had made it to "maintenance" mode. It certainly seemed to me that I was the largest person to actually attempt to run. Now, last year it seemed that the runners included up to 30 runners and I placed pretty much mid pack. I was also 50 pounds lighter. How I gained weight while faithfully participating in a medically supervised "rapid" weight loss program is another story and isn't important right now. What is important is that this year, with only 12, I ran dead last. Most who ran last year chose instead to participate in the 5K fun walk But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was a overcast but otherwise fine fall morning. The temps were in the mid 70s. My wife had planned to run as well, but her recent illness made that impossible. Luckily, my 12 yo daughter did not have a cross country meet that day and the race officials were kind enough to let her run in my wife's place. I was really looking forward to spending the morning with her.

We set off and, as we had planned, my daughter took off ahead. My pace is about 15 mins per mile right now and, frankly, it would have been difficult for her to maintain such a slow place for 3.1 miles. I'm ok with that. I got about a half mile out before I realized I will not be able to keep pace with the other runners. And I was a little disheartened by that. I mean, who WANTS to be last? I tried my best not to think about it and focus on my game plan. Run 6 mins, walk 1.

The route took us through park trails, over bridges, along the river and, for a bit, along a busy street on a side walk. It really was a gorgeous day. And I did find myself enjoying the run for what it was...a chance to show to myself I could do it.

Then it happened. I got passed by a walker. A big, goofy guy speed walking just zipped past me like I wasn't there. I have to say it was more than a little embarrassing and I thought, for just a moment, to just pack it in. My first DNF. I was dead last and got passed by goofus. My arches were killing me. My back hurt. The route took us past a Mc Donald's (WTH? Why would a weight loss program route their race past a Mc Donald's. Really).

But I wasn't going to let my daughter down. We had planned that she would come back along the race and run my last half mile with me. I pushed forward, keeping to the game plan.

That goofus walker, I must concede, was about 6'2", had a stride twice as long as my own and had obviously trained to speedwalk. One could tell that from the efficiency of his motion. Every quarter mile he'd walk backwards exactly 15 steps. I don't know why. I do know that he passed at least two other runners besides myself. I wasn't so disheartened once that happened.

Dear daughter did meet me as planned. She had crossed the finish line second (unfortunately the race only allowed for clients to place) and was so excited. She ran with me, pushing me to push through. I could hear the other walkers finally gaining on me, with one 8 year old girl actually passing me for about 10 seconds, but then she got a side stitch and had to slow down (heh heh heh). I kicked it about 100 yards from the finish line and held my daughter's hand as we crossed the finish line at 42 minutes and 6 seconds.

I remember thinking at that moment just how happy I was to have done this and to have my daughter with me as I did. I also realized that I had done it for myself just as much as I stayed in there and not disappoint her.

Everyone got a participation medal that day, if they finished. I know it is dorky, but I wore mine with great pride. I didn't care if anyone stared at the grocery store or in the pharmacy. I am 40 years old, 120 pounds overweight, and I ran a 5K dammit.

I forgot to title this

2010-09-20T13:00:00.001-04:00

Isn't it interesting how all the parts seem to come together just when you think you'll never figure it out. Just when I decide to share that I am in a desperate need to "be real" with myself, along come two friends to help find ways of making that happen.

Most of you will know that Jack Sh*t picked up my last post and shared it with his readers. Most of my new readers undoubtedly came via his blog and I am grateful for all the kind and encouraging words shared with me. Seriously. I hadn't really considered taking a break from my running or my diet, just a break from blogging as it didn't seem to be doing the job. I wasn't sure anymore what I wanted to share or what my purpose of keeping a journal of my ups and downs was anymore. Having had such a positive response I feel re-energized to keep writing, though I still feel a certain struggle to find the right or "real" voice that I want to share. But I'll keep plugging along. I have a race report to write and a few ideas of what I can do down the pike.

My other friend from over at Saints & Spinners read my post and emailed me a link to a TED video (I love TED) about keeping one's goals to one's self. As she put it in her email, it was absolutely liberating. In essence, psychologists are learning that when one shares one's goal with another person, the psyche immediately gets the impression that the goal is met. Perhaps there is a reward system built into the sharing that makes this so, I don't know. All I know is that it immediately made perfect sense. How many times have I shared with friends certain goals and then immediately find rationalizations as to why this doughnut doesn't count or that slice of pizza isn't what I meant? I think there is some truth to this notion and I'm testing it with a simple, secret goal. 36 hours and I've yet to break it.

Enjoy the video and, if you get a chance, check out Saints and Spinners. She writes a story telling blog, not a fitness blog, but I find her posts to be most enjoyable.

This is bullsh*t

2010-09-17T13:58:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I've been avoiding this for some time. My blog is bullshit. My "lifestyle change" is bullshit. The words I write here are as much to convinice myself as it is to convince you that I desire change. I've worked with a group of friends, my Warriors, who helped me be accountable. But in a brief insight of honesty, I realized I was trying to convince them as well rather than really put myself in their hands. I've thought I've hit bottom many times and decide from here on out it's gonna be by the book. But.... I like to eat. I like to find comfort in food. When I am stressing, it hits the spot. I've not really found the bottom.

You know, while I was thinking about writing this today, I ate 5 oreo cookies, two slices of pizza, a "snack sized" bag of chips and two halves of a cinnimon roll? Did I mention I am supposedly on a low carb diet? I have put back on 50 of the 62 pounds I lost in 2008-2009. Yes, my life is a mess--you'll have to trust me on that one. Stress is a factor. But it is also a cop out.

Somehow I thought this blog might help inspire me to run and gain back that health I've lost since last summer. And it has, in a way. But who really wants to read about a 40 year old man who struggles with negative self talk? How many ways can I describe the beauty of asphalt and concrete lined with perfect green lawns through suburbia?

Bleeh.

What's more, I finally came across the blog I wish I had made. Jack Sh*t, Gettin' Fit is the blog I wish I could have realized. But I couldn't have because I am not Jack Sh*t. He says what needs to be said. He pulls no punches with himself or with his audience, but he does it with humor and incredible support for those with whom he is sharing his journey. In particular, one of his older posts, Just Means Well or Well, Just Mean? just really hit me over the head like a tonne of bricks. Like the blogger he is dialoging with in that post, I find it very easy to rationalize or ignore just how much I am working against myself in trying to lose this weight. Jack doesn't give him any squirm room, but is nonetheless 100% supportive of his online fitness buddy.

I need to decide soon if I really am committeed or if I'm just playing games. One of Jack's regular features is to have his reader's write down why they are trying to get fit or lose wieght on a note card, take a pic of them holding it, and sending it in.

I've been doing this for more than two years now. I don't know what I'd write.

Clydesdale Jog will be taking a brief intermission as I grow a pair and get my headspace right.

Blank

2010-09-11T22:38:00.000-04:00

So, this evening I put another 3.1 miler in the log book. The sky was grey and the air was wet with drizzle. And it occurs to me as I sit down to record my thoughts on the run that this is all I remember of my run. Somehow I was able to set aside the nightmare that is my life at the moment and blank out. I've decided to consider it a blessing. This is something I actually look forward to with every run but don't always achieve it. I'm sure that during the duration I spent considering my lot well enough, but to not remember it...priceless. Is this abnormal?

Shadow Runner

2010-09-07T12:43:00.000-04:00

Last night I ran 3.1 miles in spite of my sloth and gluttony. And it felt good. I waited until late evening and nightfall came much sooner than I expected. At about mile 2.5, I noticed my shadow stretching out in front of me by 10, 15 feet and I marveled that it seemed so graceful even as I felt every pound of blubber shake and bounce. As I ran, noticing the times when my feet separated from my shadow, I became aware that in those moments I was flying--separated from the Earth by only a few inches but soaring nevertheless. I saw my arms swaying in a hypnotic inducing rhythm which gave rise to an awareness of my strength and my stamina. I saw my shoulders, broad and feeling like I had been carrying the world, but there was nothing on top but my head. My legs, lengthened by the sun behind me, pumping and carrying my shadow just ever so far in front of me that I knew I could not catch up.

August was a hell of a month. I have watched my wife's health fail and revive, and fail again. I have done my best in keeping my house a home for my family while tending to my wife's care. I've let my running go. I've let my diet go. In the heat of the craziness of trying to keep it all together, I retreated to some very self defeating practices. In short, I ate my stress and my fears and I sat on the couch, berating myself for having fallen so far.

And yet I know that I am not alone. My wife's parents came for two weeks to help. My own parents taking the laundry and occasionally the kids. My church is bringing meals in the evening so neither I nor my wife need to think of "what's fer dinner." My wife is back on a slow mend. My children are safe and cared for, and warriors in thier own right in their ability to keep it together over the last month.

Some may say that chasing one's shadow is folly, but it was the most real thing I have felt in a very long time. I felt the peace, the quiet, the grace, the strength of my shadow fall back on me. August is over, and September stands to be a better month.

Week 6 is Good

2010-08-16T11:42:00.000-04:00

It would seem that I am finally getting back into shape. Last evening I finished week 6 of the Couch to 5K program with a 2 mile, 25 minute run. And I knew soon after I started that it was going to be a good, hard run. Last summer, at this time, I was 40 pounds lighter and was running 3 miles per run, 3 to 4 times a week. It is definately harder work to run this summer with the extra weight, but the feelings of accomplishment are actually greater because of it.

There was a moment when the nasty negative self talk showed his ugly face. As I was running through the neighborhood, a gentleman made small talk with me as I passed. Something about his crabgrass and whether or not I wanted any. He was pleasant enough. He must be a runner as well because, as I passed, he said "You've got a good pace there." And my immediate thought was "yeah, for a fat man." Why? WHY? Truth is I had actually been thinking that I was keeping a good pace despite the extra weight, but the former thoughts were in the positive vein. But as soon as someone else said it, I immediately had to qualify it with such a nasty, self-defeating comment.

The good news is, I nipped it in the bud just as soon as I thought it and shook it off before I had even passed the edge of his property.

Beyond that one incident, the last few runs have been wonderful. Long runs (for now, a solid 25 minute run is a long run) take a lot of effort from me and it feels so good to be done. It's begining to feel good as I do it too, though, and that was a sign last year that a page was turning. I was becoming a runner then, and I'm rediscovering it now. Unfortunately, my wife's health has prevented her from being able to join me and I am sorry for that lost companionship on these runs. That pang of loneliness is the only mar on some otherwise great workouts.

Doing something

2010-08-09T10:56:00.000-04:00

Last night's run was fantastic.

It has been a very difficult time in the Clydesdale's stable. Mrs. C has been suffering from ailments that have kept her in hospital for a week. She was discharged last Thursday evening, but still has a lot of healing to do. It's disrupted the family's flow and puts a real crimp on the money situation. But, there is no doubt that she is healing.

It's also been emotionally draining as my last post suggests. While I choose not to name my wife's ailment in such a public arena, it is chronic and flares up from time to time, especially during periods of prolonged stress. I don't mind spending the emotionally energy in keeping my family whole and my wife healthy. In sickness and in health isn't just a phrase, it is a promise. It doesn't mean, however, that it isn't difficult.

Last night the Couch to 5K program called for a solid 20 minute run after a 5 minute warm up walk. I wasn't 100% positive I was going to make it as I really binged on the carbs over the weekend. Yes, I caved and ate my emotions, but every man has his breaking point. To be clear, I wasn't unsure about my ability to run the proscribed 20 minutes. I wasn't sure I could do it without being sick or cramping my gut. I started out an an gentle pace and found I could maintain it. It was hot, but breezy and I wasn't into it very long before everything just felt...right. I knew about 5 minutes in that this jog was in the bag. And it felt good. My legs were warm, my neck sweaty, my head hot. And when it was all over, I had the overwhelming sensation that I had done something.

You'll hear and read about runners all the time who say that the runs they dread the most are the ones that become the most rewarding. Last night's jog was just that.

Last Night's Run

2010-08-04T15:06:00.000-04:00

Feet run

(fop, fop)

Humidity high

(fop, fop)

Hot sun

(fop, fop)

Hot asphalt

(fop, fop)

Breath hard

(fop, fop)

Sweat drips

(fop, fop)

Church troubles

(fop, fop)

Wife ill

(fop, fop)

Eyes sting

(fop, fop)

Friendships end

(fop, fop)

Weight gained

(fop, fop)

So tired

(fop, fop)

More bills

(fop, fop)

More debt

(fop, fop)

More worry

(fop, fop)

Stop.

Catch breath. Cool Down.

Body tired. Legs ache.

Feel better?

No.

Ramble On Old Man

2010-07-27T15:32:00.001-04:00

I turned 40 last week.

I made jokes about staying in bed all day and keeping the curtains drawn. I told people that my kids finally stopped asking why daddy was crying around noon. To tell the truth, I had a lot of well wishers and, in general, it really wasn't a bad day. I did nothing all day except watch my favorite DVDs and gorge myself on popcorn made in an antique stove-top popper (the only way to make real popcorn, in my book, is on the stove). Yes, in the end, it was a good day.

But still, turning 40 wasn't fun. I did have moments of doubt, regret and sadness. I just don't have a handle on what being a 40 year old means. I do see my years rushing forward to the point where I have more behind me than in front of me.

My son ran in the county fair sponsored 5K last Sunday. I watched from the stand as he passed over the finish line with 23:49.01 on the clock. I was so proud. To him, though, running is something to do. Being part of the XCountry team. It isn't something that is a part of him. And I can't say that it is an inner part of me yet either, but I'm getting there. I am incredibly proud of his finish. He finished 138th out of about 470 runners.

Why am I bringing up my son? Well, first there's the pride thing. But it also puts some things in perspective for me. I'm 40, not 14. I've got a 40 year old body that I've not taken care of very well, but I know what I need to do to regain my health. I can't run a 6 minute mile like my boy, but I can run a mile which is more than I could two years ago. I can't compete with other runners, but I'm at an age where I don't need to. Completing the task is reward enough.

Last night's run was awful. With the week off and the insane amount of crap I enjoyed eating, I could really tell the difference. I was carrying extra water in my muscles from all the carbs, my legs felt like lead, my feet hurt, it was hot, I felt as if I couldn't breathe. I didn't think I could do it. And, to be clear, it wasn't negative talk per se--I honestly thought my body would not make it through the run. Some runs are just like that and your body will tell you to stop.

It is week 4 of the C25K program which meant two 3 minute jogs and two 5 minute plods with walking breaks in between. The ground was uneven in places at the park with roots and rock and I just didn't want to do it. My wife, however, would not let me give in. She encouraged me to keep pushing. She believed I could do it. And she was right.

She almost always is.

I'm sorry for this rambling post. I've just got too much to say and don't have a nice, neat way of pulling it all together. Life is good. Stressful situations are coming to a close. I will regain my health. I can do it.

Untitled

2010-07-15T15:41:00.000-04:00

Don't rightly know what to say about last evening's run except to say it was hot, humid and there were hills. We went to a county park to run on the trails and it was a real treat. I had no idea about the hills we were going to encounter so Mrs. Clydesdale and I got a real workout. Even still, I was quite pleased with myself for pushing through and sticking to the C25K regimen.

I'll also say that, for all my talk about negative self talk and whatnot, it is equally true that one must listen to one's body as well as quiet the doubting mind. We got home, showered and I started making my supper. And within the space of about 5 minutes my mood went from jubilant to downright angry. The clutter made me angry. The ice cube I stepped on made me angry. The full trash can made me angry. And it was like I was standing outside myself, aware that the mood I had turned was not right, but not really able to reel it back in. I had let my sugar drop too far. It had been, by that time, 8 hours since I last ate and I had pushed hard in 92 degree weather and high humidity.

Does that excuse my behavior and the stress my wife endured while I regained control? No. It explains it, but that's all. I did recognize it for what it was, took a anti-anxiety med prescribed for exactly those moods and I ate. About an half hour after finishing my meal, I did feel much better. And then I made up with my wife.

This whole mind, body thing is so mysterious to me. I'm the kind of guy who practically lives in his thoughts, oblivious to his body. That's partly how I got into the unhealthy condition I'm in. That's been part of relearning health and diet. I need to remember that, while do have an unhealthy emotional connection with food, not having food is equally as damaging to my emotions.