Where Are The Waves of My Youth?

Where are the waves of my youth?
The giant walls of green ocean brine?
The ones that called me to step in then tossed me out. 
 A ball in a game of catch between Old Man Sea and the warm sands of the shore.
 Where are the waves of my youth?

           

As I child I would stand at the water’s edge, timing my entry for just the right moment, that one moment to dive into and under the cascading effervescent foam of the rolling wave, stretching into to a weightless world of adventure as it receded back into itself.

The waves of my youth, inviting me to come and play, to come and live carefree under the caressing rays of the summer sun and hungry wails of the herring gull.

Towering undulating walls of salty brine hammering down upon the earth in a cascade of foam. “Enter if you dare!” they’d roar if they could speak. But they did not speak, except through the thunderous agitating crash upon the soaked earth beneath it, then the recoiling hissing in it’s final reach to shore.
 

In I would go, headlong into liquid just before the break. Occasionally I would be too late and get tumbled and tossed about like a shard of sea glass. Ingesting, along the way, what seemed like gallons the salty brine that is the Pacific Ocean. Then I would pop up to the foaming surface like a cherry on top of an ice cold Shirley temple. The air filled with ocean spray and my laughter. My arms and legs would be flailing about as I tried to maintain my head above the smooth undulation of the swelling tide. With each peddle push downward; my feet would stretch and search for terra firma so that I could start a slow motion gait to the next liquid wall of adventure.

Where are the waves of my youth?

I went to the ocean today and stood waste high holding the gentle, frightened hand of my youngest daughter and looked out into The Pacific. Under the golden hue of the late afternoon sky I stood and thought, “I remember the waves being much larger when I was a child…where are the waves of my youth?” With each tickling set I wondered, "...where have the waves gone?"

Deep in contemplation, as my feet sunk into the soaked sand, with each receding tide, I turned and looked down at my daughter. She was in a state less than contemplative as she stretched her neck and head upward to avoid any contact with the water.

It was at that moment that it occurred to me, the waves of my youth are still here! They had not receded in the horizon after all! No! It is I who has grown.

At a mere 36 inches tall, these small waves that I scoff at now are like a swell at Mavericks to my daughter. She stands there with me, not in deep retrospect, but in a giant yearning to return to the safety of sand castles on the damp cool shore, far enough away from the undulating taunt of the old sea.

Where are the waves of my youth?

My youth may have evanesced, but the waves – the waves are still here! Alas, it is I who have grown! And the lesson, so it seems, that what appears today like an unconquerable, relentless tide, will one day, in retrospect, be only waist high. And it is by faith that I step into liquid and join the adventure. It is by faith that I am carried through the churn and come out on the other side - my face emerging smiling and embraced by warmth of the sun.

-- Isaiah 41:13  For I the LORD your God will hold your right hand, saying unto you, Fear not; I will help you.

-- Matthew 6:27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

As I stood on the oceans edge holding my daughters hand, He stands with me holding my little hand and carries me through the waves. Life, like the ocean’s tide, is relentless; but with each tumble and stumble I grow stronger and am ready for the next wave. And until that next wave, I rest weightlessly in the undulating gentle tide.

Where are the waves of my youth? 
Have they faded and become lore?
Oh no! For they are still there.
Only it is I,
It is I who have grown!

Citizen Torresluna

On June 18 I became a Citizen of the United States of America. I and 2,812 other legal residents joined together and in unison recited the Oath of Citizenship. It was an amazing experience that I will remember for the rest of my life. Not as significant as seeing my bride in her wedding gown for the first time or the moment I met each of my children as they entered the world, but it ranks right there in significance and meaning.

I have lived in this country since the age of 3. Long story short, there was a series of paperwork errors and when I turned 18 I had to get Permanent Legal Residence, also known as a green card. 21 years later I finally became a citizen. From start to finish it was a 6 month process, and not very difficult.

On the day of the ceremony my heart filled with emotion. The patriotic tunes of John Phillip Sousa filled the hall and peppered the voices of officers giving direction, men women and children bustling about. A large, no, GINORMOUS Flag hung prominently and proudly at the front of the hall. Those colors never seemed so bright! I looked around and saw a myriad of cultures represented. As I walked the convention halls all I could hear was Neil Diamond's America. Truly from all over the world in that hall we were coming to America, seeking the American dream, each in our own way with our picture of what that looks like.

So many friends were surprised that I was not a citizen for I had lived as though I was the quintessential American icon. I worked as a Cowboy, love country music, drive a big American Made - non TARP - Ford Pick up truck, and love Jesus, baseball and apple pie!  I have created a beautiful life and all on the good graces of the American public. 

Opportunity, freedom to fail and succeed and fail and succeed again. These are the characteristics of the uniquely American society. The great experiment of the World. And now I can call it mine. You see though I am very proud of the Mexican heritage from which I come, it is not my culture, not my country. I grew up here and have therefore adopted the culture of America. If I were to go to live in Mexico now I would not fit in, I have a different world view then my Mexican brothers but that does not make me less Mexican. It's a beautiful country albeit benighted.

The American Trinity, E Pluribis Unum, In God We Trust, and Liberty. This would be the framework of my life. I am so thankful that my parents immigrated to this country and fought to give me an opportunity to create a life in the freest nation on this planet.

In taking the oath I heard a cacophony of accents in unison reciting the Oath of Citizenship, Pledge of Allegiance, and National Anthem. It was the most beautiful sound. Like the first time I heard my children cry as they entered this world. All of us being born in that moment into a new life. I life with deep responsibility to protect the founding principles of this country and to pass on the value of American Citizenship to the next generation.

It was interesting though, some of the comments made to me by friends and acquaintences. Some serious, others meant in jest but foolish. One such foolish comment, "now you will be paying taxes and your fair share!" Well, as a legal resident who has been working since I was ten, I have been paying taxes not just through payroll but in all I buy and consume. Another asked if I felt "whiter". As though American citizenship is uniquely "white" or has anything to do with skin tone. 

Did I feel different afterward? Was there some magical transformation that occurred in the moment the court was adjourned? No. Not really, I was hoping so and in that sense it was rather anticlimactic. The moment was to come several weeks later as I sat in Dodger Stadium and sang the National Anthem. That is my anthem now....MY anthem. MY Country. MINE. A wanderer no longer wandering. A nation-less man now with a nation and identity. In that moment the tune was sweeter, the colors brighter, even the grass of the outfield was greener. I am guessing the first time I step in to a voting booth will be quite moving as well.

I am proud that my family was there to witness this. I don't know that my kids can yet appreciate the significance of that day. They have always been US Citizens! But as they grow older I am certain they will understand the meaning of the privilege to be a part of this country.

As for the crisis on the border. I believe it is largely political theater and manufactured. I do believe the Law must be enforced and folks have to enter the country in the proper fashion. That being said, if I was starving and my kids too, all the while the pot of gold was just a few hundred miles away, I would jump any fence, swim any river, cross any desert for a better life. As a Christian, I try to stay apolitical and be sure to extend grace and mercy. That is our first responsibility. While the government officials sort out the mess, these children that have been sent by their parents need to be cared for, regardless of the motive for their presence here. If they get sent back then I pray they be cared for and find a way to come back the way they are supposed to.

I worked for my citizenship. I have worked since I was old enough to hold a shovel and scoop horse dung. My parents have worked and paid their taxes, the taxes that paid for the schools I attended and security of living in a free nation. I therefore appreciate what I have. I don't know if I would hold the same level of appreciation if it was given to me.

As in anything if you work for it, you appreciate it more. You care for it more. And I will care for this country and do not take my responsibility as a citizen lightly. Do I feel whiter? No...I feel RED-WHITE and BLUER!!

A WORD ON THE SUIT

Because part of the purpose of this blog is to offer commentary on proper men's attire I must make a few comments on the ensemble for the day. 

I could not have gone through this day in anything other than a blue suit. The tie is Donald Trump Collection deep red, paisley embossed silk tie. My Cufflinks are a meaningful gift from my Dad. Ronald Reagan Presidential Cufflinks, with his signature engraved on the back. He, along with John Wayne, Frank Sinatra and the American Cowboy have been life long heroic icons for me.

So I chose items for the day that carried some symbolism and meaning....yes even Donald Trump, because there is really no denying his status as an American Icon. Truthfully though it was the only red tie I had that worked.

It Doesn't Have To Cost You

Putting yourself together for a semi formal or formal event such as a summertime cocktail party does not have to break the bank. Style and class are not only for the deep pocketed. I am not a man of independent means. I am a huge fan of the clearance rack at JC Penney and Macy's. Recently I purchased three suits from Hollywood suits and am quite pleased with the quality. It was one of those 3 Suit deals for $499 and it came with three belts, shirts, ties, and socks. Is it Armani? No. $250 Dress shirts with soft egyptian cotton? No. Salvatore Ferragamo tie? No. But who cares? If the fit is tailored for your body and the style is classy, no one is going to come and inspect the labels on your clothing.

On a recent business trip I arrived at my hotel and began to prepare my suit for the next day's meetings. It was then that I realized I had not packed my cufflinks. I drove the local mall and wandered in to Neiman Marcus. I had never been in one and did not know that this was a very expensive place to shop. After gasping at the $200 simplistic Cuff links I decided it would be much easier to get a new shirt with button cuffs. I then realized it was not much better. $650 shirts!!! So chalantly wandered my way out to the mall and into a Dillards. This was my kind of place. For $100 I walked out with Johnston & Murphy dress shoes, a shirt, and a set of decent cufflinks. No one at the meeting knew none the better.

For a summer cocktail party I recently attended I wore a light colored three piece suit, basic white dress shirt, and the shoes I purchased on my trip to the aforementioned Dillard's. The Bow Tie is a gift and it provided the right amount of color to an otherwise monochromatic ensemble. (I NEVER wear a clip on Bow Tie)

A suit is not a suit if it does not have a pocket square. As a rule I don't match the pocket square with the tie, even though this particular tie came with a matching square. I often choose a square that would compliment the tie; but, I do like choosing a completely contrasting silk from time to time. As long as it is not too ostentatious, you should be fine. There are many styles for placing the pocket square in your coat. For this occasion I felt a simple puff would suffice.

Often, wearing a belt creates a cinched contour that is unflattering and causes the suit to not drape properly, so I opted for braces, also known as suspenders. A nice touch that no one saw but nonetheless provided function and comfort. 

Since this was to be an outdoor party I "capped" it all off with the season appropriate Panama style hat. The traditional Panama has a wide brim, this particular hat has shorter brim. Which is a much more demure accessory. Wearing a hat dispels the assumption of being fat = lazy. Topping it all off with a hat demonstrates you took the time to think through your appearance and you are confident walking in a society in which The Hat is no longer ubiquitous.

All said, once put together, I felt confident and put together. A cocktail in hand and an after dinner cigar on the patio all made for an excellent evening. I enjoyed the many compliments, it's amazing how many people are impressed by a bow tie especially a self tie bow tie. But I did not dress for anyone else but myself. And that is what matters.

 SO I DON'T LOOK LIKE BRAD PITT....

I am not a thin man. Never was, not sure if I ever will be. There seems to be a general consensus though that if you are not like a model, you must dress like a slob. Untucked shirts, large t shirts, shorts down to the mid shin, generally unkempt. Why? Who says proper attire is only for the thin? Why have overweight men taken on an appearance that says, "I give up"?

I love to pay attention to the details of dressing like a classic gentleman. The proper shoe shine, the pocket square, the tie bar, the proper knot of a tie. All of the accoutrement that completes a suit, it's what captures the eye and communicates to others that you are serious and put together.

How serious would the Axis powers have taken Winston Churchill had he showed up looking more like Bruce Vilanch?

In teaching my son how to dress and groom himself I always start off by saying "A proper Gentlemen...knows how comb his hair, tuck his shirt in, always is sure to have fresh breath..." It seems to me that many men of the portly variety have given up on their appearance and it needn't be so. There are plenty of fine clothes made for plus size man. But really one must start on the inside. How seriously do you take yourself? Do you want others to take you seriously at first glance?

You don't have to be a wealthy business man to worry about your appearance. You just have to take a bit o' pride in yourself, enough so that you extend that to your appearance. A proper shave, a haircut, an ironed shirt and creased pant. It all goes a long way.

So I will dedicate this blog from time to time writing about and demonstrating aspects of style for the more corpulent gentlemen. Not just in what to wear but other aspects, such as etiquette, learning new skills, taking time to do the things that add value to living. I welcome comments and suggestions.

Tragic Wake Up Call

A terrible thing happened on the way back to camp....I saw a man die.

The morning of Sunday October 21 is, for most, the start of any other day. But for a few what started as any other day quickly ended in tragedy. 

 

While most were still sleeping or beginning to stir awake, a few hundred professional, amateur, and novice triathletes made their way to Newport Beach for the 2012 sprint triathlon. Weeks of training and preparation, eagle eyed surveillance on carb and protein intake, recovery runs, recovery rides, recovery swims all about to culminate on this day. For some this is quite literally a walk in the park. For others, perhaps their first attempt at the holy trinity of athleticism. A sprint tri is 1/2 mile swim followed by a 5k run and 12 mile bike ride.

I remember the feeling before starting such an event. I have done 5k runs, a half marathon, and several lengths of bike rides, the longest stretching to 105 miles. The adrenaline that pumps before the start is awesome. The sound of hundreds of people jogging, running, cycling is ever exhilarating. The feeling in the air is electric and nothing compares to it. I am certain this was the feeling on the shore of Newport Dunes Lagoon as hundreds gathered for a 1/2 mile swim around the floating TYR buoys.

Across the bay was a slumbering group of fathers and sons, my son and I among them, slowly wakening to the final morning of their memorable campout. Some, like me, got an early jump on breaking down camp and trekking supplies and gear back to our trucks and family vans.

It was on the walk back to camp from the truck that I happened to see one of the lifeguards in the water helping a swimmer. I watched him lift the swimmer up on to his paddleboard then the listless body fell right off and back in to the water. Another dad and I ran to the shore line to offer assistance. I called 911 as the other dad jumped into help the lifeguard. Another lifeguard quickly paddled from across the lagoon, the four of us drug the man's heavy body to shore. Foam and water pouring out of his mouth and nose. First aid supplies quickly arrived with another life guard and they proceeded to suction out the man's air way while simultaneously administering CPR chest compressions.

No pulse. A systole.

Paramedics arrived and continued to work on resuscitation. They intubated him, stuck an IV in his leg, wrapped a compression device around his chest. Among the medical and emergency terms called out the words A SYSTOLE kept ringing. I did not know what that meant but I knew it was not good.  I would later come to find out A Systole means "Flatline." 

Here lied a large man, built much like myself, wet suit cut off, half naked on rain soaked sand...dead. 

As I stood aside, watching the first responders fight the reaper, I prayed. I prayed for their efforts, for his family, for the feelings of doubt falling upon the lifeguards. I thought. I thought about the efforts that had brought this man to this event. I identified with this man. Overweight, undoubtedly trained for months and weeks for this day. This one day that he would cross the finish line collect his medal and take a picture to commemorate his commitment to health and activity.

Of course I know nothing about this man. I have no idea what brought him here. It's all projection. But I do know we both like to eat. And there in lies the tragedy.

No coroner comment on the official cause of death. Drowning to be sure but what caused it? Heart attack? Cramp? Who knows. It's all in my projection now.

We all lifted the man up to the sidewalk and on to the gurney. As they rolled him away, A SYSTOLE.

I knew as I walked away that he was gone. It was and is a haunting thought. A haunting vision. His poor family, his poor kids, his heartbroken friends. Dreams and plans washed away in 50 yards across a lagoon.

Perhaps if his health was better he could have made it. But then I have seen men like that finish marathons. We are called Clydesdales.

Selfishly, I think I was supposed to witness this. This could be me. This could be someone I love. This could be me if I don't change. I have the strength and ability to accomplish great things with my body. I can ride for miles, run miles...albeit slowly. I can eat less, lift more. But I have not. This is a tragic wake up call.

A terrible thing happened on the way back to camp...I saw a man die.

Roger Stewart, 51 from Brea California, may you Rest In Peace.

Impressive Trash

So I was sitting in my truck the other day frustrated at how messy it was. Granted much of the disaster was due to weekend beach trips with the family. Kids = Messy Vehicle Interiors (or entire households for that matter)

I sat in the cab and took a look around before starting the process of cleaning it out. Taking away toys, flip flop (yes just one, lord only knows where the other is), Crocs, sweaters, and socks, I was quite impressed with what remained. Yes, I was impressed with the trash that was in my truck.

How can one be impressed with trash? Well any number of ways really, but no need to dive into the nuances and forays of the scavenger lifestyle or with how Doc Brown can use trash to fuel a time machine. I digress.

What impressed me was the containers that I was throwing out and how they compare to what I used to collect along the miles of driving I do. I used to collect wrappers and sacks from McDonald's, BK, Carl's Jr., or any other fast fat food joint that tickled my fancy. I used to collect empty soda cups and cans (no beer, I t'aint that stoopid) MikyWay and Almond Joy Wrappers. The side pockets of my doors would often house the once savory filled pouches of Doritos, Cheetos, and even the nectar/snack of the gods: Salt And Vinegar Kettle Chips. Oh and I can't forget the occasional indulgence of Twinkies...yes Twinkies. Come, on, you know you like 'em. Admit it, that even though they have a shelf life that only cockroaches can admire, they are quite tasty. Try them chocolate dipped at Rocky Mt. Chocolate Factory. WOW! Again I digress, THIS is how I get with food.

So instead of digging out that grease soaked/stained emptied bag of french fries from under the seat I find myself digging the wrapper of a protein bar. I had an empty container of Almonds and another of Grapes. I found a few empty water bottles too and the "once in a while" can of Carb Free Monster Energy Drink (please no lecture on the health dangers of energy drinks). I even had an empty can of Pepsi One! Imagine, diet soda ingested by yours truly. My my...indeed.

Now I don't want to give the impression that my truck's cab serves as an alternate filming location for Oscar The Grouch vignettes on Sesame Street. It truly is rarely a mess. But on this one occasion after a crazy week, this is what I found.

Impressive trash. This is what goes on in my mind. Others think of cures for disease, I contemplate the intricacies of my gastro-consumption.

This Is A Wonderfully Inspiring Scene

Ramble On

So I have not updated my blog in quite some time. I have not been too inspired and don't know exactly why that is. But I will ramble on a bit tonight and see what comes out so bear with me.

I ended phase I of the HMR plan and lost 30 lbs ending at 216 lbs for the program. I started the year at 260 and currently weigh in at 212. And that is where the rub comes in. I have been stuck and idle in my weight loss for the last 90 days. Got to 209 at one point. My hope was to be at 170 by this time and so I am disappointed.

Disappointed....funny because I have had a successful bout the last six months. To have dropped nearly 50 lbs in 6 months is no laughing matter much less a disappointing one. I have not let off on the exercise either. I led and taught a couch to 5k class and ran a 5k on the 4th of July. The one Y member that stayed with the class had never run a 5k and we did it in 35 minutes, no breaks. It was an awesome feat!

And yet I am disappointed that I have not lost more weight. With all the exercise I am doing and all the physical accomplishments I am reaching. I am riding faster and longer distances at elevated speeds. Hills are less of an issue for me. I am lifting more and dancing (ZUMBA) better. Admittedly I am not eating as well as I was. Incorporating outside food and weaning off the prescribed food is difficult as far as discipline goes. But good news is that I am craving fruits and veggies like never before and, up until last Friday, have not had a hamburger since the start of the year. And it was a glorious burger from the Crow Bar in Corona Del Mar...but I digress.

Exciting news! I taught my first spin class this past Monday and I stacked the class with friends so it was totally full whereas it is usually only 3-4 members. Having taken up cycling and improving in my abilities on the bike, I have come to enjoy spinning as well. So much so that I am going to be seeking certification as a Spinning Instructor. I mentioned this to our program director at the Y and then was asked to sub for a teacher on vacation. That's the catch in volunteering with a non profit, as soon as you say what you are interested in, BOOM! There you are. But I had been researching how to plan a class and what to do for quite some time. I thought I would be a bit different than the other instructors in that I would incorporate more Classical music and less hip hop. I would also invite the class to be somewhat introspective on their journey in that hour.

I have found myself to get quite introspective in the midst of a  ride or run, forgetting all but the task at hand. By the end I find myself much more relaxed and exuberant by the accomplishment of the hour. This is called endorphin release. I call it a happy high.

So as I was leading Spinning I noticed something very very foreign to me. Everything I did, the class did. If I dropped my right arm, they did also. I stood, they stood...they even did what I told them to. THAT is weird to experience. Then I realized, the members here and the members in my running class are there to be guided to a healthier version of themselves and are trusting me to get them there for at least that hour. In that hour I am part of a grander plan that they are implementing in their lives. This is quite humbling...and inspiring.

At the same time, I am there to draw from them because I am in need of the workout. I mean, come on! A fat spin instructor? Really? And draw I did. I left so energized, so jazzed at the fruition of what I had been planning and dreaming about. I did it! I actually tried something almost entirely foreign to me, with no formal training and did a good job. If I may be so bold as to say so. I mean I led a work out that I would have been happy to participate in.

It hit me today as I was looking foolish in Zumba class that I am a fitness instructor. I am a fitness instructor. I.......AM............A...........FITNESS...........INSTRUCTOR. That is weird. I never would have guessed a year ago that I would be here now. What a difference a year can make. Holy cow.

I have always said that there is NOTHING I can't do. I may not be the best but I will try it. I have trained horses, ridden bulls, attempted a 100 mile bike ride, ran a half marathon, ran a 5k, lost weight. I can do anything I want and I will.

Life is an adventure, a big one at that. There is so much to try and do. I believe that many won't try something unless they can be the best at it or at least on par with how the pros may do it. In living that way, those people will miss out on so much. I am not satisfied in sitting in the stands and watching the game be played. I want to participate in life and try all I can. Right now it is all about the physical. I want to participate in a triathlon, I want to ride 100 miles, I want to teach others to do the same and join me for the ride.



I have met so many people and created relationships in the journey of this last 6 months that I will remember always and cherish always. Relationships that have inspired me and moved me. Some have moved me to tears. The interaction with them has taught me so much about myself and led me to discover so much wisdom that I would not otherwise had learned. I am proud.

It's okay to be proud, just not prideful. But then I suppose there is an element of pride-fullness bordering on boasting in writing this blog. Or any blog for that matter. Okay fine. But believe this blog is more for me than for you. It is a good outlet to write out what comes into my heart, into my soul. I guess I could just journal it and keep it to myself. But I have a drive in me to inspire others to push themselves. I don't know why, I just do.

I am going to work on a Hall of Fame post. I think I will gather the pictures of all the people in my life currently and in the past that have inspired me to more and honor them. That will take some effort.

So there you have my ramblings. I hope it was not a waste of your time. Thanks for reading!

Hovering

So a few weeks ago I finally broke my previous lowest weight of 215. Then I came back to it. Then I lost it and got to 212. Then, as of this week am back to 215.

You can see the chart here:

I am frustrated. Psychologically I need to get beyond 215 and not by a few pounds but by a large enough margin that a slight gain won't get me back to it. It is a wall, it was the wall last time I trekked on weight loss. It seems insurmountable and very discouraging. Even though, looking at the graph it is easy to see the victory already accomplished. Now it is a mental game, I know that somehow I am sabotaging myself. Or my body is and I am not aware of it.

Discipline, I hope this will help me beat this wall. I stand at this wall, in it's shadow and as Ivan Drago in Rocky IV I say "I must break you." Or is it the wall telling me "I must break you?" Hmm...that is worthy of some reflection. After all I far more identify with the Rocky character.(Let alone desire the same physique, but that is not realistic) It is not going to be easy. It will take perhaps more effort than before. I say this because I recently completed Phase I of my program and am now on to Phase II in which I can eat more fruits and vegetables, not just program regimen. Perhaps that is the factor. I am eating more though it is more of the right stuff. Except, perhaps, for the Tri Tip I had on Mother's day. Ahh, but this is not confession time. Not yet, guilt has not overcome me yet. Perhaps later...later later.

So I reach deep with in and find the warrior needed to fight my natural tendencies to be lazy and over eat and snack. I must remind myself of how I got this far and why I did. I must fight.

It is a lonely trek however and I think that has gotten to me.Sure I blog about it and am transparent about the journey. Admitedly in an effort to not only inspire and to vent but to feel like others are walking with me. Yet the loneliness is there. No one can walk my walk. No one has the inner demons that I have, the same attraction to food that I have. Nor the reasons that I have. No one feels the pain with every pounce on the pavement that I feel or the thoughts that I have to keep picking up my feet to move. It is a lonely path.

I am the only one in the ring with the wall. At times the loneliness is empowering in that I impress myself with I can drive myself to do and what I can accomplish. That alone is empowering, to witness my own resolve and see its fruit. Setting out to ride 30 miles on the bike with no one else...nothing more than my Ipod and my own thoughts.

But then I am overcome. This is not easy, have I said that already? I wish someone else could carry this load for me sometimes. But no one can. I did this to myself. I am the one that aged my body and damaged it. It is my mess to clean up. And what a mess it is.

Crabs In A Bucket...

I read a story once and it went like this:

One day I was walking along the Washington Beach, the black beach in Washington, North Carolina with my father. I was about eight years old. I noticed a man with a bucket of crabs. The crab bucket did not have a top on it. I asked my father why the crabs were not able to escape. My father’s explanation taught me a valuable lesson.

My father said, “If there was only one crab in the bucket it would certainly escape. However, when there is more than one crab in the bucket, if one tries to crawl out, the other crabs would grab hold and pull it back down so that it would share the same fate as the rest of them.”

One thing I have heard a lot of in my weight loss class is others' experience with lack of support from certain friends. This story came to mind and I shared it. We all could relate. It is amazing to me how some folks are apathetic or worse when it comes to another's success. Even more so in the arena of weight loss and exercise.

Success is hinged on encouragement. Encouragement is hinged on selflessness. Sure another's success in an area that is a struggle for you is only a mirror whose reflection you do not like.

I encouraged my fellow participants to gravitate to those that are encouraging them and try to encourage those who are not. They probably don't want to hear it, but remember encouragment is hinged on selflessness. That's my wisdom, I did not get it from anywhere else but my own experience.

It is also important to "set to the plow" and not look behind, or your path will not be true. I am going somewhere, I hope to not go alone, but will if necessary.

Milestone Accomplished....Mission Still Pending

I weighed in today at 213.6 lbs. The lowest I have weighed in nearly 10 years. That is a total of 41.4 lbs since January 1.

After my meeting, which is the 2nd to last meeting of Phase I, my measurements were taken at the gym. Here is the update:

Prior:                           Today:
Chest: 46.5....44 1/2 Waist: 48.5....43 1/2 Thigh: 21.5...22 (this is cool, BTW) Calf:16.... 15 1/4 Arm: 12.75.....13 (this is cool, BTW) Body Fat: 34.6....31.1%
BMI: 32.9.........32.4%


Considering that I gained 1.2 lbs over the course of 2 weeks then lost 3.8 and improved the measurements, I am very happy.

NEW STATS ARE IN!

So here are the latest stats on my body reconfiguration.

Waist: 43.5 --  Down 2 inches exactly
Thigh: 21   --  Down 2 inches exactly
Calf:   15.25 -- Down 1/2 inch
Arm: 13    -- No change, but this number should be going up slightly as a transform my arm fat to muscle.

And the most exciting part...........
Body Fat %: 30.7 down from 33.3!!
BMI:  32.9 down from 34.4!! Almost out of the 30's. Any BMI over 30 is considered obese. It will be nice to not be obese, by this chart anyway.

Even when the scale is not my friend, I rely on these numbers to keep me positive.

Fear...what is it good for?

Thoughts from the Saddle...

I rode in Irvine yesterday again, on the same track as the pros. My buddy Ben who has been there the last few weeks was not there. I kinda grew accustomed to him being there, he is always encouraging, even when lapping me. All the others just ride by, focused on their performance. He always has something to say. But he was not there. Also, last week, a new guy was there, he weighed about 400 lbs. It was nice to have him there because he was as slow as me. Not necessarily a good thing for me, but I'll take it. It was nice to have some company on the ride. Although, he did not make the best partner for me after all. He was a bit belligerent about his condition.

You may know the type, he had all the answers for being healthy and losing weight, and yet there he is at 400 lbs. Hey, good for him to get on the bike and tackle the hills. I guess his inspriation is different than mine. I found it a bit hard to relate. Anyway, he only lasted 7 miles, his legs cramped on him. Perhaps due to the fact he had no water and refused my reserve bottle. He said it would just get in the way and that when he was in football in High School he would go through Hell Week with little or no water. Hmm...

So this weekI was on my own. Feeling a bit lonely but then I had been feeling sad and fearful all week. They had been around for the past week but on this ride I let them have their voice. As it turns out, it was really fear that was striking me.

Cranking up the lonely hill, trying desperately to find hapiness in the chosen Black Eyed Peas songs I downloaded, I asked myself permission to let go of my heart and let it speak. So as the song faded into the Rocky Soundtrack Theme Song and my legs pumped up that hill I was overcome with fear.

Ask any man what he fears most and most will have the same answer. FAILURE. I was fearing failure.

I am reaching the last month of Phase I in my HMR plan after which I will move to Phase II which is less money, and less of the prepared foods. The weight loss is slower as I will be slowly moving back in to reality of eating. I could do Phase I again and probably should but the cost is high and I have yet to get insurance reimbursement. So I fear.

I fear that I won't hit my goal weight. I have not been under 216 pounds in nearly 9 years. Currently I am at 219. What if I stall here and don't get another 3? Then I move to Phase II and slow down on loss? What if I  don't hit 170? I will have failed. I will have failed....myself, my family, my body. Then what? I fear.

I fear that I will gain it all back, that I will go back to dependency on diabetic medication. Then how will I face all who have doubted? What will they say? What will they think? I fear.

I fear failure. Sure there is much to be said about how failure can also be inspiring...a new beginning, a new chance to start over. Yeah I get that, but failure stinks just the same. There is so much to answer and account for when I fail. Especially internally. The shame of my self is the worst. It never seems to go away,  it is a Video Player that plays a tape of my failures inside my head. And it pays no mind to the time. It plays all day and even louder at night. I fear that.

Failures have gifts that they bring, believe it or not. We just have to sit with them and give them time to speak. It is then that we learn from them.

Wise as that may be, I still fear failure and do not want to encounter it.

So what was feeding this fear? Ahhh....feeding, a choice word indeed. I took a few liberties over the weekend and indulged in foods that perhaps I should not have. Let's see...on Friday it was a Bean Burrito at Taco Bell and Fresco Crunchy Taco oh and the last bit of Cheesy Rollup that Ava did not eat. Perfect little munchkin! You always leave an "offering" to your daddy, don't you? Ten Percent Ava! That is all I ask!

Then it was an egg later that night, not a bad thing since there was no carbs. Then it was a piece of bread. Then a girl scout cookie. What a night!

Then came Sunday, a few tastes of Chips, peanut butter, another slice of bread to adjoin my Chicken Salad (made with Walden Farms Fat Free Mayo), then a taste of Chocolate Cherry Cheesecake...meh.

And I skipped my prescribed meal because after all, I was full! I justified it because I did my fastest 25 mile ride on Sunday afternoon, worked out on Saturday, sweat like crazy doing yard work, hey I was burning Cal's!!

See how easy it is to go back to the lover? See how I can slip? See how I can FAIL?

What have I done in the course of one weekend? Have I reversed all of my exercise, all of my effort? Perhaps, but the disappointment overcame me on Tuesday's ride. Perhaps it was not seeing my friend. Perhaps it was the unavoidable loneliness of riding on my own while watching the other riders ride in a pack. I am not as good as them. That was alright a few weeks ago but not today. Not now. Right now I wish I had the discipline and determination that they possess. I wish I had the physical ability and muscle twitch to ride with such explosion of effort and strength. Right now I wish I was thin and capable. Right now I wish I was a part of the club. Right now I wish someone else with my struggles was with me.

I feel better today. I guess I can expect to feel the sadness and fear time and again as life goes on, as this journey progresses.

Today was a good day. I sat in the Dr's office to discuss my latest blood tests. I cried and told him that it was a rough week, mentally and emotionally. I was not sure that I would succeed in beating the disease, that I would fail and stay fat and ugly.

I pulled out my test results. A1C is a test that shows the long term glucose levels in your blood. A normal, healthy A1C level is under 6. Mine, in January, was 7.7 which is very unhealthy and demonstrative of Type II Diabetes. Today, my A1C is 5.8 which is not diabetic. My bad cholesterol is low, within healthy range, good cholesterol is up.

"You beat it. Your A1C level is non Diabetic. This is Victory!" Dr Nikravan said. "Your weight is down to 219 from 245 at the program start. 26 pounds. This is very good."

Since January 1 I have lost 36 pounds. I am three away from 216, four from being below that wretched number.

I cried, quietly but proudly. For all the "cheats" along the way for all the moments I chose to sit and not move, for all the moments I did not push myself a little harder on that bike, for all my ex lover's desperate attempts to woo back...for all this I cried. Because I still won. I beat the Red Bastard (my nick name for Diabetes).

I beat it down. Now I have to keep striking until it cannot get up anymore. I have added years to my life, life to my years...life to my kids.

I have fought. I am fighting. Today I won... I won another day to fight again.

By God's Good Grace

Okay, so the other night I took the kids to Mickey D's for dinner. Just as a treat. Julie was out of town at Winter camp. So I was going to get them each their own Happy Meal. Now I was dreading it because I did not want to sit in there and I knew that if I did, my slow poke eaters (Landon and Ava) would not be able to defend their fries from me.

So the whole drive over, I am panicking about how I am going to avoid the temptation. With every turn of the wheels I can sense the craving for those delicious fries growing inside of me. Sweat beading down my face, hands getting clammy, heart beat racing.

"Should I even be taking them? This is not healthy for them either." I thought. "Blasted! The dang toys, Star Wars and iCarly. Dang geniuses!"

Well I already told them I would, and clogging their arteries is less important than breaking my word at this point. Besides, Landon and Emma just asked if they could get Apples instead of fries. Darn little darlings...

Ah HA! Solution, I have my gym bag, I can go throught the Drive-Thru and then go to the YMCA and they can eat at the KidZone. Perfect!

But, that smell, oh that smell that emanates from the inner bowels of the grease peddling beast, oh how I love it. And how will I avoid that? As soon as I roll down the window to order, it will fill my truck...what to do?

So we pull up and it was as if God sent his divine angels ahead of me and did a glorious thing. As soon as I roll down my window I take a deep breath with my nose, filling my chest with air and puffing out like Superman. A contented smile on my face as I indulge in the glorious --- wait, there is something dreadfully wrong here. What in the --- THAT is NOT the smell of Fries. THAT is the SMELL OF ROTTEN GARBAGE. Gag.

It just so turns out that just prior to our arrival the trash man came and the crew was cleaning out the dumpsters. So all craving shrank in me. Shriveled away like a fast food pickle in the hot burning sun.

So happily I ordered, and quickly as I wanted to get that window shut immediately. Funny enough, none of the kids caught the smell, just me. Hmm....

Just as well, I was so upset by the shock to my senses that even the happy meals in the Truck were not a temptation. Because you know I would normally HAVE to taste a few fries, just to make sure they are good. But not this time.

So off to the Y and off to sweat it off. Good times.

Victory!

So last week I was extremely frustrated at the loss of a mere 4/10 of a pound...NOT EVEN A HALF POUND!!!!!!!

This week I got payback. I had my biggest loss yet. 6 pounds lost. I now weigh 222 pounds. Starting on January 1st at 255, I have now lost 33 pounds. I still have 52 to go. If I continue on this path in another 5 weeks, I will be near 200 lbs. I have not been there in 10 years.

It feels good, I must say. I feel good. It feels awesome to wear my suits because, after all, I look darn good. And I have a pair of Wranglers that now fit.

All good stuff. Until I lose SO much weight that I will then have nothing to wear. Good problem to have, I just hope my bank account fattens up as I get skinny.

Thoughts from the Saddle: Not Every Man Lives...

So I set out to find more ways to get in cycle time. I really do enjoy cycling, thanks to a very generous friend at church. He not only gave me a bike that is absolutely amazing, but he also equipped me with short liners, cycling shorts, socks, and a helmet. The shorts are my favorite, they are bibs, actually. They have a bunch of holes on one of the legs because of a spill he took.

Fast forward to today. I find a cycling group that meets in Irvine, close to where I work and they ride a 2.7 mile loop for one hour, and get in about 20 miles. I thought to myself, "Self. Why don't you do that." They meet on Tuesdays at 5:30, I can do that.

So I pull into the lot where they meet. Well, these guys are pro cyclists. Fully sponsored team jerseys and shorts. Bikes worth more than I make in a year. Shoes that only Lance Armstrong would wear. I mean these guys are dressed to the 9's, true pros.

To add even more to the situation, they are fit...I mean FIT. And their legs were sites to behold. So as I am casing the situation, getting my bike out of the truck I notice a couple of guys in gray hair, easily mid 50's or older. Same uniforms as the other guys, but older. And they have a tandem.

"Perfect!" I thought. "I will just keep up with them and draft. This will be easy, a little challenging but riding in a group helps cut the effort."

So there I stand with my beautiful bike. Hole riddled shorts, $10 Aviator sunglasses from Olvera Street, a helmet whose strap is held together by electrical tape, cotton socks from Costco (you know the kind, with the thick Gray soles...I love those!), leg warmers that are a little stretched out, and over my cool jersey a red sweatshirt from Target. Because it was very cold and I don't have cycling cold weather shells. Oh, and we cannot forget the lumps. My lovely manly lumps. That, rest assured, not a single other rider had.

So no one talks to me at first. Then one guy, Ben says "Hi!"

"Cool," I thought. "Umm this is my first time." As if he could not tell.

"These guys are pretty serious," he responds, "I come to get a good work out, but, don't be surprised if you can't keep up."

"Oh, I won't be. I am just here to ride be among other cyclists. I am here for my health." I say ever so proudly. And nerdy.

I felt so out of place but wanting not to be.

Another guy rode the loop once with me during warm up. He was cool, his name was John and was a serious rider though not part of the racing team that made up the majority of the group.

So the ride begins to form at the start point, I am coming back from a warm up round but keep going. I figured they would catch up to me, no sense in starting with them only to drop off. It would be equally humiliating to get passed.

"When they catch me I will just hook in with the old guys on the tandem." Naively thought I.

I was at the crest of the hill, quite proud of myself for maintaining a 9.5 mph pace up the climb, when I heard a humm. I looked over my right shoulder, trying not veer off into the sidewalk , and about 300 yards back is the pack. I laugh to myself.

"This is going to be funny. Here I am plodding away and these guys are going to pass me at speeds 3 times what I am doing. But here comes the down hill and I still am hund--" WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOOSH WHOOSH...I have been passed.

But no worry, I am on the down hill I can keep up with them, oh and there goes the Old Tandem Riders. These guys look like Penn and Teller. No proble---WHOOSH WHOOOSH...they passed me too and I cannot catch up. I am now going 28 mph and cannot keep up.

So I went on to the bottom of the hill and watch them make the turn in great precision and speed. I do the same, only with a little less speed. I caught up to them at the stop light. And when the light turned green, before I could clip in to take off, I was alone again. Good times. I tried to catch up, getting up to 30 mph but could not catch them. They were easily hitting 40 mph. I came to find out later that they were taking the climbs at 25mph. The same climb that I was proud to hit 9.5 on.

I was WAAYY out of my league. But once in the middle and at the very end, Ben stopped at the crest of the hill and waited for me. The old guys on the tandem, Penn and Teller, they lapped me like 5 times. Pfft!! Old guys.

Ben was cool. He told me he started riding 2 years ago and has lost 70 lbs.. He was a cool guy and was clearly worked by the team. He kept up with them better than I did but by the end he was dropped.

I had a blast. Most of the time I was alone, almost all of the time except for when I was being passed. But I was not disheartened. I loved hearing the gears and grunts of these athletes and for a brief moment I was in the pack with them. It felt good.

I don't know if I will ever get that good. Don't know if I want to. Maybe when I am in my fifties and I can find another guy to ride tandem with me.

I found hapiness in being the new guy with the ratty shorts and $15 tech sweatshirt from Tar-jay. For now, the race is to lose the weight so that I can live. The race is to beat diabetes, to make it die before me. The race is to cross the first of many finish lines in the many physical feats that await me. The race is to live. All men die. Not every man truly lives.

I lived today. I lived well.

Current Measurements: VICTORIOUS

VICTORY VICTORY VICTORY!

I am seeing marked improvement on my measurements:
Chest: 45...    -1.5 inches
Waist: 45 1/2...  -3 inches
Thigh: 23...  +2.5 inches This is due to cycling like mad. My thighs are stronger.
Calf: 15 1/4...  -1 3/4 inches
Arm: 13...  +1/4 inch Again due to weight training.
Body Fat: 33.3%...  -1.3%
Body Mass Index: 34.4...  -2.7

Memories...

So Julie and were loading up old pix to our Mac the other night. Pictures taken from 2001-2004. I found myself quickly flipping through the pictures that I was in because I could not stand to see the condition my body was in at the time. FAT...with an "F" not a "PH."

It was totally shaming to me. That was when I was flirting with 260lbs!

Isn't it a shame? I know that I am not alone in this. How many of you do the same? Or, worse yet, avoid being in pictures at events because you are fat. You know what we are doing? We are excluding ourselves from the memory captures of our family because we chose food over our health. Does that ring true? Does it bring shame upon your shoulders? It does me.

So what's it going to be? That double cheese burger that Paris Hilton showcases on the TV commercial or being a part of the digitally captured memories of your children's youth?

Back from a Hiatus

I have not posted since my post surgery last Wednesday. I just have not been inspired but, rather, depressed. It is not easy being bed ridden for nearly a week. I know many face that in much longer stints.

I found myself craving fat foods to console my depression. Luckily I did not have any enablers nor did I really have much of an appetite.

But I find myself encouraged and re-inspired as I have lost 5.8 lbs since my last weigh in pre surgery. I weighed in at 228. A weight I sped by many  moons ago.

Today I worked out in an Aqua Aerobics class which was harder than I thought. It really is all about resistance, I can put as much pressure agains the water as I feel comfortable to do. Plus the water is warm so the heart rate heats up pretty good. I have started walking too and while it takes much longer to burn calories than jogging, I find that this may too be enjoyable. This week I plan to take my running shoes and walk at lunch. I walked on Friday in dress shoes and regretted it...blisters. Being diabetic I cannot wound my feet.

This morning I brought out my slacks that have eluded me for many months. Stubborn they are to not have stretched with me. But I have shrunk back to fit into them. This is inspiring. I have a new suit that I have only worn a handful of times that I can wear again. I cannot wait. It is snappy suit, black with faint pin stripes. Snazzy. I have a few dress shirts that can come out from hiding as well. This is all very moving for me.

So how is the diet going? Well it is going well as far as results go. I do find myself having food out side of the plan. But not totally. I am having vegetables here and there. Which is part of the less restrictive plan that others are on. The "Phase 2" plan. I find that helps me keep my sanity.

I am feeling better, my incision points still hurt. Last night Ava pushed on one and oh boy! I felt like I had been shanked by "Baby Face" Torresluna. Good heavens. I cannot wait for full healing and recovery

Wounded

Sitting in the Pre-Op room yesterday, getting ready for my surgery, I noticed one thing. I was the youngest patient in the area. Which caused me to think about why I was there. Then the Anesthesiologist said one thing about Diabetes that hit me.

"It ages you"

"It ages you." Wow. He is so right. For one, it shortens my life. Two: the ailments I suffer are more commonly suffered by those much older than me. Unfortunately, though, the age for those suffering from diabetes or are pre diabetic is getting younger and younger. (Insert public service announcement here)

I am ashamed of what I let myself get to. I am ashamed of the condition of my body. A condition caused solely by me. Not by McDonald's or any other food source. It is my responsibility to take care of "the temple" and I did not. "All things in moderation" so the adage goes.  But my soul does not deal well with moderation...obviously. I am ashamed.

To those of you reading this I tell you this: Don't let yourself go.

Last night, I slept through the hour in which I was supposed to take my pain medicine. I woke up to take it at 3am but it would be too late. I began to feel the incisions, the missing organ, the air pushing against my shoulders. And it was a pain like I had never suffered before. And, mind you, I have been stepped on and trampled on by a 2 thousand pound bull, walkig away with only a hole in my leg and several bruises. I would gladly take that pain again. This pain was awful awful awful.

Don't let yourself go. Don't eat all that fat and raise your cholesterol and irritate your gall bladder's function. All those wonderful feelings of downing that beautiful steak, or ribs, burgers, fries, fried chicken, Turkey Skin (I love the crispy skin on the thanksgiving bird), chips, etc. All the satisfaction that comes with your overindulgence will fade and quickly. What will not fade is what it does to your body. What will not fade is the damage to your organs, your skin, your mind.

I am glad I suffered such horrendous pain. I will not forget it. I will remember it the next time I long for a cheeseburger. The next time I reach for a second Half Rack of ribs.  Heck a serving of ribs is only 4 or six, I think.

That brings another point to mind. I and so many others have not idea what a serving is of anything. We are so uneducated when it comes to eating and eating well. But we know about living and living well which translates to over indulgence.

I am ashamed. I am ashamed that two years ago I ran off my weight and inspired so many in my circle and so many that read the article of my success. I gained it all back and lost a bit of my pride...a lot really. It is hard to have any pride when you are wearing a hospital gown and your rear is out for all the world to see.

I am ashamed that I have to suffer such intense pain and wear the scars now. Wounds....wounds that serve as a reminder of my reckless folly. I pray it keeps me motivated to treat my body better. It is mine to steward and I have not.

Life is meant to be enjoyed. God has given us the senses to enjoy all that he has created and all that man, with His creativity, has created. And He has given us free will. Will to choose what we do with His gifts and creations. To quote a line for Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, the scene when the villain drinks from what he thought was the Holy Grail then dies.

"He chose poorly"

I have chosen poorly. Time and again. I have a family now that needs me to be around in all my health, not in all my fatty glory. So, I believe, God has brought me to this and has allowed the wounding to create a new man. And I am thankful for the scars for they will serve as a reminder.