Righting a wrong course taken

Things are getting a little weird now. A friend told me today he thinks I'm obsessing about my "transformation". He didn't do air quotes when he said that or anything, that's all me. He used that word only because that's how I've been referring to this period of my life. I'm always saying how my everyday decisions and actions over the past 8 or so months are all part of my "transformation".

But somehow I don't know that transformation is actually the correct term for what's happening. It all started as a way to not say the word "dieting". I mean, literally I am transforming physically, but it's not like I'm becoming something I never was. I'm just righting a wrong course taken. In fact, I was just thinking this afternoon how I'm starting to look like I used to look, back in 1999. The transformation period should really refer to the eight years ago I spent with my head up my ass, totally ignorant of myself, lacking self respect and just marking time through a life I was really unhappy to be living. It was then that I transformed into something new, something I didn't recognize, wouldn't even recognize now probably.

Goal for this coming week...stop taking myself so damn seriously all the time. Loosen up. Chill. Stop talking about my "transformation" and just begin existing in my newly transformed state. I'm not in a hurry to lose weight anymore. I'm not in a hurry to become a muscle man or anything. I'm not in a hurry to perfect myself in any way, because perfection is just an illusion anyway, right?

Right?

Time for another progress pic

Okay, so this is a horrible posed picture, but it's all I've got at the moment to show my current state so I'm posting it anyway.

I like to post a new pic every so often so that I can keep track of my progress (and so my friends in far away places can keep track of me and be able to recognize me the next time I'm home for a visit).

This pic represents my weight as it is, hovering around 300. I don't know if you can notice, though, even though the weight's the same I've been beefing up around my shoulders and chest while my stomach fat shrinks. It's the net result of muscle weighing more than fat, I think.

Oh well, it's not really a big deal anyway. I feel great for all the exercise I'm getting. and even though I'm looser on my diet than before, I'm still eating all the right foods and in the right combinations, so I couldn't be happier with my overall progress.

It wasn't 9/11

It wasn’t 9/11, it was my grandfather’s death. In that Spring before the fall, before even the millennium party, he was carried out of the summer house on the rise of March’s first full moon. I stood in front of the third floor bathroom’s mirror and heard him calling me from his bedroom below. When I arrived, well, that vision shouldn’t be shared. But suffice it to say, it rattled me. Shook me to the core. But a few months later after leaving the shore to return to Miami Beach it was business as usual working some job I wanted but hated. Next stop, it was September shockwave after moving to Newark, and turning 30. Then Bush. And Miami Beach. And then mom's and dad's sickness. Philadelphia, clocking-in students. Then “Si se puede” in New Mexcio. Then Philly. Now home.

It wasn’t 9/11, it was seeing what diabetes could do, but not being able to take stock of what diabetes could do to "me" until I was sorely at risk of developing it myself. My grandfather was 80 years old, I was just 29, and I was doing okay, even though I'd gained back at least half of the 70 pounds I'd lost the first time I moved to Miami Beach back in the mid-90s. How could I picture myself, as an albeit hefty young man, struggling so much in the same way my father's father was struggling here? It would've been impossible to see the future, even had I wanted to. But somehow I shot directly toward that subconciouis goal, to age myself decades by burying myself in the layer of nearly a man-and-a-half's weight! Fortunately I didn't cross over to the "d" disease on my course.

I always told myself it was 9/11. But it wasn't. And it won't be 9/11 that will keep me on track as I "fit" myself back to health through a steady regime of diet, exercise, and a tight check on emotional decision-making. What will keep me on track? Everything that comes after this.

In case you're wondering, though, the thing that got me back on track after having been knocked off somewhere around either end of the big "M" was looking in my grandmother's eyes as she shared with me snippets from her life, and memories of the people she'd shared it with, as tears would well in her eyes (and surely she remembered much more than she shared of her many decades lived) during her final few months in 2009. Seeing through her eyes, and through her words, I came to realize that I was still alive, and connected to her, and to others who came before, and that no matter how dead I felt inside, I wasn't. Because it wasn't.

And I may have decades down, but God-willing, I have decades yet to live. Well, at least that's a possibility now. Before, back before I took steps to control what I can only describe as my emotion addiction to self gratification through destructive means, premature death would have been more of a probable end for me.

This machine is my new drug

Not to say that I have an old drug, but if it were true that I did (have an old drug), I'd have to say that this calf machine is my new one.

Regardless of the exercise, every time I work out I get pumped up, and I leave the gym happier and more energetic than when I went in. But whenever I do my regular leg routine (quadriceps, hamstrings, whole leg, calves, hip and inner thight) I get such a high after the very first set on this calf machine (pictured above - I should've looked on the machine to see its name, but I have the picture, so you can get the idea).

For those of you out there who think that a leg workout can't bring you euphoria, you've got to try this. Someone told me (actually, I think it was Butch Monster now that I think of it) that the calf is the second most important muscle in the body. He said that the calf is responsible for pumping blood that's been circulating throughout the body back to the body's most important muscle - the heart.

Pretty cool. I guess that's why I feel like I'm in ecstasy after every set. Whew! I love it!

No defense, just my food

It's pouring out this afternoon, so I've just tucked myself into my half-lit office to take some time to fuel my blog.

Speaking of fuel - great segue I know - I went food shopping this morning and bought the week's staples. Here's a list (I'm no great cook, so just imagine the way these ingredients could be prepared and fill in the blanks.):

Publix Boneless Chicken Cutlets
Organic Valley Reduced Fat 2% Milk
Sunnyridge Blueberries
Flavor 1st Grape Tomatoes
Toufayan Hearth Baked Pita Bread, whole wheat
Leasa Snack Sprouts (sprouted lentil, and mung beans)
President Fat Free Crumbled Feta Cheese
Publix Large Grade A Eggs
Cedars Tabbouleh Salad
Cedars Israeli Couscous Salad
Publix Frozen Vegetables (spinach, broccoli, collard greens, and Japanese blend)
MetRx Protein Plus Protein Bars
Sunkist California Sliced Almonds

Back in January when my diet shift was taking place, with the help of Nutrisystem, I was in the process of reading Michael Pollan's amazing food manifesto, In Defense of Food. The green-Earth whole foods vibe that backed his back-to-roots mentality for the social and cultural implications of how food goes from living source to served-up meal left me feeling nervous, maybe a little bit guilty, that I had sort of forced myself into choosing a pre-packaged, heat-it-and-eat it delivery system. But since most of my caloric intake came from items I could by whole and eat whole without much preparation time gave me a lot of choices, and I made those choices based on many of Pollan's ideas.

At that time I was in desperate need of an immediate measurable success program - getting started without such an injection of optimism was literally like facing the task of turning an enormous tanker in the middle of a tight straight without a means of propulsion. But now that I'm on my own, it's interesting to look at the checkout belt and see that these represent my choices and the way I eat on a daily basis.

While I would love to be able to self-sustain on my own little plot of land, thereby ensuring that my food is as fresh, chemical-free, nutrient-packed and non-carcinogenic as naturally possible, this is just not possible for me right now. I live in the modern world where I have competing demands on my motives for making correct decisions for myself, my community and my planet. But with this whole slick in the Gulf incident I worry about the fact that so much of the packaging on the check-out belt is plastic (see pic), which if I'm not mistaken is a petroleum-based product.

Oh well, if anyone reading this would like to chime in to let me know how I might find a way to eat more local food on a regular basis while keeping within my healthy foods regimen, please feel free to leave a comment. And if you have a blog and you think your readers might get something from The Fitness400 Project, please feel free to link us up.

Thanks!
B