The streak is over.
The 1972 Dolphins can uncork their champagne. Joe DiMaggio and Cal Ripken have nothing to worry about. Maya Moore and company over at UConn can rest assured that my own personal weight loss streak has come to a close, and while not nearly impressive as the women winning something like 958 consecutive games, I was on a pretty good run.
How good? Since I began Weight Watchers, this blog, and the linking quest to lose 60 pounds by the wedding, I had not experienced a single weigh-in where I actually added pounds to my frame.
There were times when I stayed flat, others where I posted significant losses, and many more weigh-ins where my weight would drop incrementally. I had a system down: be very good about counting points from Monday-Thursday afternoon. Bust my butt at the gym, burning anywhere from 1,000 to 1,500 calories per workout. Get weighed on Thursday, then allow myself to take a few liberties from Thursday night through Sunday. Come Monday (again with the Jimmy Buffett), Indulgent Matt would once again give way to Intense, Obsessive Matt, and any pounds gained over the weekend would be gone within a couple of workouts.
When my body fat percentage was much higher and I had many more pounds to lose, the process worked without fail. But 70 -plus pounds later, there's not as much to lose, my metabolism is catching up with me, and I haven't made all the dietary changes necessary. I accept that, and I know I have to be better, otherwise 80 pounds is never going to happen.
Above all things, weight loss is about self control. I've never been an alcoholic or a drug addict, and thankfully I've never found myself on the business end of an intervention. My understanding is, however, that a person cannot change unless they accept that change is necessary. That philosophy was at the heart of my problems with weight, and likely will continue for the rest of my life.
For years, I was comfortable with being the friendly fat guy. I figured everyone loved having a chubby, funny, and huggable lout around, so in a way, I decided I was serving a role to society. But then you look at all the side effects of obesity, and you realize you are paying a huge price, and not just in terms of health. I was unhappy, and change was necessary. It's taken a great deal of discipline, more than I've ever required for any endeavor I've taken. But it has paid off in spades.
Since 2005, I have lost more than 100 pounds. At the risk of personal shame, I'll state the truth right here. At my worst, I weighed well more than 300 pounds. When I look back at those photos, I feel ill. I never want to look like that and feel like that again, especially given the many blessings in my life. I have plenty that I need and want to be healthy for, so why is temptation creeping back in?
The answer: temptation is natural. Everyone experiences it in some form. Mine comes in food. Megan and I are now less than two months from our wedding date. With the bridal showers and weekends with family come heaps of incredible goodies. Last weekend, red velvet cupcakes were my Waterloo, coupled with too much pizza and cookies consumed merely because they were there.
I overindulged, and for the first time, I wasn't able to make it up at the gym. I tried my best, but on Thursday, I was a pound heavier than I was the previous week.
The defeatist in me wanted to beat me up. However, the defeatist has to compete with a the new optimist that has emerged, and as such, I have a decision to make. Do I scrap my quest and decide I've done all I can? Hell no. There's still bathing suits to consider. Was this a wake-up call? Unquestionably, and unlike many an early morning, I refuse to hit the snooze button.
Then, there's this: gaining the occasional pound is part of the weight loss process (that according to the Weight Watchers leader). People go up and down, week by week, but as long as the overall trend is downward, I should be okay.
The temptations are not going to stop. Let's see how much self control I possess, and by all means, let's start a new streak next week.
Some red velvet STATS!
Days until wedding: 58.
Weight lost in Week 36: 0.4 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 34: 71.4 lbs
Weight lost in Week 37: + 1 lb. Call the Pentagon, we've got an emergency!
Total weight loss after Week 36: 70.4 pounds Cancel the Pentagon, we should have this under control.
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 117.3333 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 88 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 0
Weight left to lose: 9.6 lbs. Look out, elliptical. I'll be kicking your butt regularly.
Interesting nugget of new job: I am in charge of the college's Facebook account. hehehehe.
Number of town meetings sat through this week: not a one. Ah, academia.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
More changes than merely measurements
Let's paint the scene a bit before we begin...
9:16 a.m. on May 6, 2010. Shots are fired at an East Hartford apartment complex. Three people are killed, a fourth is shot. The police department's PIO is meeting with media as investigators try to figure out what happened. Reporters from every television and newspaper outlet in the state is swarming, looking for information. At the JI, second deadline is fast approaching, and breaking the story in time for the afternoon paper is critical.
Had this all happened on May 5, I would have have been one of those reporters on the scene. On Thursday, however, I was watching it all unfold on TV news, checking for updates on the computer, and reading Facebook postings from journalists.
The shooting happened the very next day after I left the Journal Inquirer and five years of reporting, a career that started outside of San Diego, led me home to Middletown, and brought me to the scene of many breaking news events in East Hartford. I've covered homicides, murder trials, the state legislature, feuding ice cream truck drivers, plenty of education matters, ComicCon, renegade emus running amok, and even competitive eating contests. I've also had my image frequently on the second page, announcing the latest results of my weight loss progress and inviting everyone to read along.
Come Monday (ah, Jimmy Buffett), that's all over. I begin work as a communications coordinator for Goodwin College, and I have bid farewell to the JI newsroom. Frankly, it's a weird feeling... I know it's the right move, but alas, five years is five years. I've been a reporter longer than I was a college student or just about anything else. I'm excited too. This is going to be a great change, and I am ready for it.
Of course, it is heaping another big change in my life onto an already tall pile. In 2 and a half months, I'm getting married. I've lost 71 pounds and counting within the last eight months or so. I am working toward a Master's degree in education and certification to teach high school English. Now, in the midst of all of that, I'm changing careers. Might be a good time for me to take a deep breath. But all these changes are for the better. I have absolutely no doubt about that.
And with all these changes, I am determined that my physical measurements will continue to get better. According to my most recent figures, I've lost about eight inches off my waist and chest. My arms are getting slightly bigger, while my shoulders are losing their broadness. My head, however, continues to be massive and the recipient of many a bruise.
The new job is going to mean (gulp) a new routine. Through this personal challenge, the gym has been my destination during every weekday afternoon or mid morning, depending on my work schedule. Now I'll no longer have to worry about night meetings, so goodbye, split shifts. Instead of starting the day around 7, my mornings will now start at 9. As a result, I'm moving my workouts to the morning, meaning that by 7:30 a.m. on week days, I'll be treadmilling away.
A couple things to get used to here. First, getting ready for work in a locker room surrounded by strangers in various stages of undress. High school Matt didn't even like taking off his shirt in the locker room; now he'll be waiting in line for a shower. That definitely could take some time to adapt.
Second, a person's body weight changes throughout the day. Typically, you are lightest after you wake up and your stomach has had nothing to digest for several hours. By the end of the day, I can be seven pounds heavier after three meals, various snacks, and all the liquid that has been consumed. Weight Watcher weigh-ins, meanwhile, are in the late afternoon, usually after I've had my "last chance workout" to burn away whatever breakfast and lunch calories are in my system. This tactic has been effective- I can be as much as five pounds lighter by the time I finish exercising. At the same time, I usually appear as if someone has pushed me in the pool. Oh well.
I'm interested to see whether the routine change will yield new results, positive or negative. Varying routine is supposedly good for weight loss, but I've come to rely on that Thursday afternoon blitzkrieg. I just hope the stats continue to be reasons for celebration.
So farewell to the newsroom, the bylines, and the crime scenes. For a while, you've been all I've known as a professional, and, as crazy as it sometimes made me, I'll miss the scrambling around. It's much harder to say goodbye to the friends, and thankfully, I don't really have to do that. I'll be close enough that a lunch is always a possibility.
And the Great Wedding Fast will continue, though the author will soon have a new business card.
Past deadline, I'm filing some STATS!
Days until wedding: 72. Just about 10 weeks.
Weight lost in Week 33-34: 2.2 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 34: 70.2 lbs
Weight lost in Week 35: 0.8 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 35: 71 pounds
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 118.3333 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 88.75 B+
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 35
Weight left to lose: 9 lbs. That's less than a pound a week. Can it be done?
Towns written about during years as reporter: San Diego, Chula Vista, El Cajon, Lemon Grove, and La Mesa, CA; Middlefield, Durham, Middletown, Cromwell, Portland, East Hampton, East Haddam, Haddam, New Haven, Meriden, North Haven, South Windsor, East Hartford, Manchester, Windsor, Hartford, Storrs, Glastonbury, East Windsor, Bolton, Hebron, Enfield, Windsor Locks, Tolland, CT.
Rough estimate of bylines: 2,300.
Most obscure story: tie between the ice cream truck duel and the emu.
9:16 a.m. on May 6, 2010. Shots are fired at an East Hartford apartment complex. Three people are killed, a fourth is shot. The police department's PIO is meeting with media as investigators try to figure out what happened. Reporters from every television and newspaper outlet in the state is swarming, looking for information. At the JI, second deadline is fast approaching, and breaking the story in time for the afternoon paper is critical.
Had this all happened on May 5, I would have have been one of those reporters on the scene. On Thursday, however, I was watching it all unfold on TV news, checking for updates on the computer, and reading Facebook postings from journalists.
The shooting happened the very next day after I left the Journal Inquirer and five years of reporting, a career that started outside of San Diego, led me home to Middletown, and brought me to the scene of many breaking news events in East Hartford. I've covered homicides, murder trials, the state legislature, feuding ice cream truck drivers, plenty of education matters, ComicCon, renegade emus running amok, and even competitive eating contests. I've also had my image frequently on the second page, announcing the latest results of my weight loss progress and inviting everyone to read along.
Come Monday (ah, Jimmy Buffett), that's all over. I begin work as a communications coordinator for Goodwin College, and I have bid farewell to the JI newsroom. Frankly, it's a weird feeling... I know it's the right move, but alas, five years is five years. I've been a reporter longer than I was a college student or just about anything else. I'm excited too. This is going to be a great change, and I am ready for it.
Of course, it is heaping another big change in my life onto an already tall pile. In 2 and a half months, I'm getting married. I've lost 71 pounds and counting within the last eight months or so. I am working toward a Master's degree in education and certification to teach high school English. Now, in the midst of all of that, I'm changing careers. Might be a good time for me to take a deep breath. But all these changes are for the better. I have absolutely no doubt about that.
And with all these changes, I am determined that my physical measurements will continue to get better. According to my most recent figures, I've lost about eight inches off my waist and chest. My arms are getting slightly bigger, while my shoulders are losing their broadness. My head, however, continues to be massive and the recipient of many a bruise.
The new job is going to mean (gulp) a new routine. Through this personal challenge, the gym has been my destination during every weekday afternoon or mid morning, depending on my work schedule. Now I'll no longer have to worry about night meetings, so goodbye, split shifts. Instead of starting the day around 7, my mornings will now start at 9. As a result, I'm moving my workouts to the morning, meaning that by 7:30 a.m. on week days, I'll be treadmilling away.
A couple things to get used to here. First, getting ready for work in a locker room surrounded by strangers in various stages of undress. High school Matt didn't even like taking off his shirt in the locker room; now he'll be waiting in line for a shower. That definitely could take some time to adapt.
Second, a person's body weight changes throughout the day. Typically, you are lightest after you wake up and your stomach has had nothing to digest for several hours. By the end of the day, I can be seven pounds heavier after three meals, various snacks, and all the liquid that has been consumed. Weight Watcher weigh-ins, meanwhile, are in the late afternoon, usually after I've had my "last chance workout" to burn away whatever breakfast and lunch calories are in my system. This tactic has been effective- I can be as much as five pounds lighter by the time I finish exercising. At the same time, I usually appear as if someone has pushed me in the pool. Oh well.
I'm interested to see whether the routine change will yield new results, positive or negative. Varying routine is supposedly good for weight loss, but I've come to rely on that Thursday afternoon blitzkrieg. I just hope the stats continue to be reasons for celebration.
So farewell to the newsroom, the bylines, and the crime scenes. For a while, you've been all I've known as a professional, and, as crazy as it sometimes made me, I'll miss the scrambling around. It's much harder to say goodbye to the friends, and thankfully, I don't really have to do that. I'll be close enough that a lunch is always a possibility.
And the Great Wedding Fast will continue, though the author will soon have a new business card.
Past deadline, I'm filing some STATS!
Days until wedding: 72. Just about 10 weeks.
Weight lost in Week 33-34: 2.2 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 34: 70.2 lbs
Weight lost in Week 35: 0.8 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 35: 71 pounds
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 118.3333 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 88.75 B+
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 35
Weight left to lose: 9 lbs. That's less than a pound a week. Can it be done?
Towns written about during years as reporter: San Diego, Chula Vista, El Cajon, Lemon Grove, and La Mesa, CA; Middlefield, Durham, Middletown, Cromwell, Portland, East Hampton, East Haddam, Haddam, New Haven, Meriden, North Haven, South Windsor, East Hartford, Manchester, Windsor, Hartford, Storrs, Glastonbury, East Windsor, Bolton, Hebron, Enfield, Windsor Locks, Tolland, CT.
Rough estimate of bylines: 2,300.
Most obscure story: tie between the ice cream truck duel and the emu.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Push for Every Pound
For those who follow the old cliche that the "last 10 pounds are hardest..." well, they're right, and boo to that.
I'm starting to fondly remember the big number weigh-ins. The first couple months of Weight Watchers, there was little reason to fret when getting on the scale. I knew I was losing impressive amounts of weight on a weekly basis, and it was never a question of "did I lose any weight?", but rather "how many pounds are gone this week?"
That lasted, literally, about 45 pounds. I was putting up huge numbers every week. Four pounds, 7 pounds, 8 pounds... the chub seemed to be falling off of me-- which, when you think about it, is a bit of a disturbing visual. If it looked easy, quite frankly, it felt that way sometimes. It was mostly about diet back then, following a point system carefully, and exercising moderately. I didn't need to torture myself through 1,500-calorie workouts to ensure a good week.
Now, let's hit the "Live TV" button on the remote (Thank heavens for DVR). Yes, I have reached my initial 60-pound goal, and there have been no relapse weeks. Eighty pounds, however, is starting to feel elusive, like a tall building that is slowly coming closer, but distant enough that you know it's probably too far to walk.
The wedding is now less than three months away. That means about 12 weigh--ins, and 90 days or so to make good on my goal. It's Thursday today, but there won't be a weigh-in for me tonight as the result of a softball game. I'm confident that if I stepped on a scale (following my murderous last chance workout, of course), I would post another loss this week. However, if pushed to guess, I'd say the loss would be in the 0.something range, rather than a figure with a nice crooked number at the front of it.
According to the home jerk scale, I'm about 11 pounds away. That's close enough to consider the "last 10 pounds" cliche. And, if I still had the body fat percentage that I did when I started, those 11 pounds could easily be gone within a month.
Yet my body is changing-- for the better, as opposed to in those weird ways described in by awkward sexual education teachers. I daresay I'm showing some signs of muscle tone. I know longer look at myself and see a double-chin and bulging belly. I am even wearing some brands of shirts without any "extra" to the "large." These are wonderful signs of progress and I have many reasons to be proud of my progress.
But a promise is a promise, even if it is an arbitrary number. I want to hit that 80-pound mark. My workouts, which once were easy-going, are now brutal. On some days, I'm burning as much as 1600 calories in one session. My trainer actually told me I was a bit weak for my size, and that only lit the fire more, to the extent of more arm curls and push-ups than I've ever done before. Heck, a few weekends ago, Megan and I walked/ran (alright, mostly walked) a 4-mile stretch.
I'm eating less as well. Oh, I still pack a wallop during a meal (this is me, after all), but I am carefully counting points. To be more accurate, I'm carefully counting points between Monday and Thursday and allowing myself to indulge a bit too much on the weekends, but I am still relatively focused.
Yet every pound now feels like a major push. I know that if I am to reach my goal, those weekend indulgences will have to be reduced. I also know there are some major hurdles coming up, not too mention a professional change that I'll get into in a posting yet to be written. It's time for me to "hold, or cut bowstrings," as the old saying goes (and what it actually means, I haven't a clue).
One last push. It begins now... well, at least tomorrow, after trivia night at the bar.
You can't handle the STATS! (Yay, forgotten 90s movie reference!)
Days until wedding: 87. I can taste the cake already.
Weight Lost in Week 32: 0.6 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 32: 68 lbs
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 113.3333 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 85 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 32
Scouting report on my softball skills: fly ball pull hitter, weak glove, infield chatterer, prefers pitchers to belly-itchers
More challenging than necessary: Finding a left-handed baseball glove
Weight left to lose: 12 lbs
XXL shirts remaining in closet: handful
Those shirts now look: comically big
I'm starting to fondly remember the big number weigh-ins. The first couple months of Weight Watchers, there was little reason to fret when getting on the scale. I knew I was losing impressive amounts of weight on a weekly basis, and it was never a question of "did I lose any weight?", but rather "how many pounds are gone this week?"
That lasted, literally, about 45 pounds. I was putting up huge numbers every week. Four pounds, 7 pounds, 8 pounds... the chub seemed to be falling off of me-- which, when you think about it, is a bit of a disturbing visual. If it looked easy, quite frankly, it felt that way sometimes. It was mostly about diet back then, following a point system carefully, and exercising moderately. I didn't need to torture myself through 1,500-calorie workouts to ensure a good week.
Now, let's hit the "Live TV" button on the remote (Thank heavens for DVR). Yes, I have reached my initial 60-pound goal, and there have been no relapse weeks. Eighty pounds, however, is starting to feel elusive, like a tall building that is slowly coming closer, but distant enough that you know it's probably too far to walk.
The wedding is now less than three months away. That means about 12 weigh--ins, and 90 days or so to make good on my goal. It's Thursday today, but there won't be a weigh-in for me tonight as the result of a softball game. I'm confident that if I stepped on a scale (following my murderous last chance workout, of course), I would post another loss this week. However, if pushed to guess, I'd say the loss would be in the 0.something range, rather than a figure with a nice crooked number at the front of it.
According to the home jerk scale, I'm about 11 pounds away. That's close enough to consider the "last 10 pounds" cliche. And, if I still had the body fat percentage that I did when I started, those 11 pounds could easily be gone within a month.
Yet my body is changing-- for the better, as opposed to in those weird ways described in by awkward sexual education teachers. I daresay I'm showing some signs of muscle tone. I know longer look at myself and see a double-chin and bulging belly. I am even wearing some brands of shirts without any "extra" to the "large." These are wonderful signs of progress and I have many reasons to be proud of my progress.
But a promise is a promise, even if it is an arbitrary number. I want to hit that 80-pound mark. My workouts, which once were easy-going, are now brutal. On some days, I'm burning as much as 1600 calories in one session. My trainer actually told me I was a bit weak for my size, and that only lit the fire more, to the extent of more arm curls and push-ups than I've ever done before. Heck, a few weekends ago, Megan and I walked/ran (alright, mostly walked) a 4-mile stretch.
I'm eating less as well. Oh, I still pack a wallop during a meal (this is me, after all), but I am carefully counting points. To be more accurate, I'm carefully counting points between Monday and Thursday and allowing myself to indulge a bit too much on the weekends, but I am still relatively focused.
Yet every pound now feels like a major push. I know that if I am to reach my goal, those weekend indulgences will have to be reduced. I also know there are some major hurdles coming up, not too mention a professional change that I'll get into in a posting yet to be written. It's time for me to "hold, or cut bowstrings," as the old saying goes (and what it actually means, I haven't a clue).
One last push. It begins now... well, at least tomorrow, after trivia night at the bar.
You can't handle the STATS! (Yay, forgotten 90s movie reference!)
Days until wedding: 87. I can taste the cake already.
Weight Lost in Week 32: 0.6 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 32: 68 lbs
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 113.3333 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 85 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 32
Scouting report on my softball skills: fly ball pull hitter, weak glove, infield chatterer, prefers pitchers to belly-itchers
More challenging than necessary: Finding a left-handed baseball glove
Weight left to lose: 12 lbs
XXL shirts remaining in closet: handful
Those shirts now look: comically big
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Way beyond the Figure Eight...
There was no shame quite like that of high school tennis practice. I had a sworn enemy, not a person, but the course we would run almost every day before hitting the courts.
The athletes of the former Middletown High School (now Woodrow Wilson Middle School) know the Figure Eight quite well. The 2.2-mile course winds its way from the school's front and up various side roads, down Ridge Road, then back to the school. Then, the course continues around Pat Kidney Field, down the long trot along Farm Hill Road before coming to a merciful stop somewhere near the football field.
For most, it was a minor annoyance, a leisurely jog to loosen up before practice. For me, it was pure, unfiltered hell, an errand of aggravation that played upon the scariest of asthmatic nightmares.
I never stood a chance running the Figure Eight. Within a tenth of a mile, I'd be walking. By the time I got up the hill, my inhaler would already be spent, and each passing car seemed only to mock my misery. I would trot when I could, but for the most part, I was the token fat kid lagging far behind his teammates, willing painfully toward being the last to finish, if finishing was even a possibility. I was actually a bit relieved on days when I would roll an ankle and wouldn't have to continue. A sprain goes away with a little ice and elevation. Nothing alleviates shame.
The worst part was the stretch in front of the school, down Hunting Hill. It went right by the high school track, where all the best athletes were jumping hurdles, tossing javelins, and flexing their muscles for no apparent reason. By the time I reached that road, my teammates were all well gone, and some had even finished the entire course.
Not me though. I would have to run the stretch all by myself, with the eyes of the entire track team delighting at the slow pace and shamed face lumbering before them. I would run with my inhaler out, in hopes that the students would see the small instrument and put together the pieces themselves that, "oh, he's asthmatic, and that's why he's so slow."
No dice. All the inhaler did was conjure more images of the chubby geek, and not a day went by without the nastiest of catcalls imaginable.
"Hey Fat Boy, why don't you take a cab next time?"
"Why you walking, Engelhardt? Afraid to actually burn a few calories?"
"You know, for a large man, your calf muscles are spectacular!" (note: this might not have been yelled in reality).
The inner argument was always the same, too. Why does a tennis player need to be able to run? Can't I just smash the ball and be done with it? And by the time I'd finish, there'd be the coach, his scowl angry as he watched me, sweaty and pathetic, pretend that I had been running hard the entire way.
By junior year, I was co-captain of the team, a role I held out of experience and for making inspirational speeches rather than talent and endurance. We had a running joke, pardon the pun: if you lose to one captain during the Figure Eight, you have to run harder the next day. If you lose to Engelhardt, you're off the team.
Those practices are awful memories. But that was many, many pounds ago, and if weight loss has taught me anything, it's that all challenges are worth making... and meeting.
Now there's a new challenge to pursue, beyond weight loss and looking good in a suit. I'm upping the ante yet again, foot by foot, as I attempt to do something I always thought to be, in the words of Vizzini, inconceivable.
I am pledging right now that come Thanksgiving 2010, I will earn every piece of pie I consume for dessert, because earlier on that day, I will be running the Manchester Road Race.
And, just as I make the race a new goal, my asthma is starting to sing. You may have fooled me for a while with your fancy treadmills, climbers, and free weights, says Asthma, but once you step out of the gym, I'm back. And just to show you I'm serious, I'm bringing the high school shame back with me...
As I write, I am just returning from a light jog around the block. I figured if I'm going to make good on this new goal... and the 4.75 mile course that comes with it...I'd better get out there and run. I've started to run on the treadmill, but that always has the handles at the ready to aid in the process. Outside, there's nothing to lean on, and what amounts to about 0.7 miles, from one end of my street and back, feels like a trek. My lungs burn, just like back on the Figure Eight. My feet hurt, and the bad karma of tennis practice is swirling in my brain.
The difference? There's no angry coach this time to chastise me for not running hard. It's all on me, and that, in a way, is even more daunting. There is no one harder on myself than, well, myself, and I swear I will make good on this promise.
Care to join me? I'll see you at the starting line come Thanksgiving Day. You may finish before me, and that's okay. I just want to finish. I want to run for a reason other than because some large animal is chasing me, or I'm going to miss a bus, or because it's part of tennis practice. I'm doing this to prove to myself that I can.
The biggest irony? The Road Race course is more than twice as long as the Figure Eight. For good measure, maybe some of the old members of Middletown track team should line the course, so they can see for themselves that I am no longer in awe, and fear, of them and the awful things that come out of their mouths.
I just hope they don't still have those javelins.
Catcall up some STATS!
Days until wedding: 99. One for each bottle of beer on the wall.
Weight Lost in Week 31: 1 lb
Total weight loss after Week 31: 67.4 lbs
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 112.33 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 84.25 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 31
Months until Road Race: 7.5
Hindrances toward successful road races: cruise line buffets, but mmmm, crab legs.
Feelings about Duke basketball: nothing but bitter, bitter hatred
Number of professional sportswriters, journalists, and college basketball nuts involved in recent tourney pool: 10
Person who won second, including defeating me. The 11th person- Megan.
Consecutive years Megan has beat me in the NCAA pool: 3. That's just sad.
The athletes of the former Middletown High School (now Woodrow Wilson Middle School) know the Figure Eight quite well. The 2.2-mile course winds its way from the school's front and up various side roads, down Ridge Road, then back to the school. Then, the course continues around Pat Kidney Field, down the long trot along Farm Hill Road before coming to a merciful stop somewhere near the football field.
For most, it was a minor annoyance, a leisurely jog to loosen up before practice. For me, it was pure, unfiltered hell, an errand of aggravation that played upon the scariest of asthmatic nightmares.
I never stood a chance running the Figure Eight. Within a tenth of a mile, I'd be walking. By the time I got up the hill, my inhaler would already be spent, and each passing car seemed only to mock my misery. I would trot when I could, but for the most part, I was the token fat kid lagging far behind his teammates, willing painfully toward being the last to finish, if finishing was even a possibility. I was actually a bit relieved on days when I would roll an ankle and wouldn't have to continue. A sprain goes away with a little ice and elevation. Nothing alleviates shame.
The worst part was the stretch in front of the school, down Hunting Hill. It went right by the high school track, where all the best athletes were jumping hurdles, tossing javelins, and flexing their muscles for no apparent reason. By the time I reached that road, my teammates were all well gone, and some had even finished the entire course.
Not me though. I would have to run the stretch all by myself, with the eyes of the entire track team delighting at the slow pace and shamed face lumbering before them. I would run with my inhaler out, in hopes that the students would see the small instrument and put together the pieces themselves that, "oh, he's asthmatic, and that's why he's so slow."
No dice. All the inhaler did was conjure more images of the chubby geek, and not a day went by without the nastiest of catcalls imaginable.
"Hey Fat Boy, why don't you take a cab next time?"
"Why you walking, Engelhardt? Afraid to actually burn a few calories?"
"You know, for a large man, your calf muscles are spectacular!" (note: this might not have been yelled in reality).
The inner argument was always the same, too. Why does a tennis player need to be able to run? Can't I just smash the ball and be done with it? And by the time I'd finish, there'd be the coach, his scowl angry as he watched me, sweaty and pathetic, pretend that I had been running hard the entire way.
By junior year, I was co-captain of the team, a role I held out of experience and for making inspirational speeches rather than talent and endurance. We had a running joke, pardon the pun: if you lose to one captain during the Figure Eight, you have to run harder the next day. If you lose to Engelhardt, you're off the team.
Those practices are awful memories. But that was many, many pounds ago, and if weight loss has taught me anything, it's that all challenges are worth making... and meeting.
Now there's a new challenge to pursue, beyond weight loss and looking good in a suit. I'm upping the ante yet again, foot by foot, as I attempt to do something I always thought to be, in the words of Vizzini, inconceivable.
I am pledging right now that come Thanksgiving 2010, I will earn every piece of pie I consume for dessert, because earlier on that day, I will be running the Manchester Road Race.
And, just as I make the race a new goal, my asthma is starting to sing. You may have fooled me for a while with your fancy treadmills, climbers, and free weights, says Asthma, but once you step out of the gym, I'm back. And just to show you I'm serious, I'm bringing the high school shame back with me...
As I write, I am just returning from a light jog around the block. I figured if I'm going to make good on this new goal... and the 4.75 mile course that comes with it...I'd better get out there and run. I've started to run on the treadmill, but that always has the handles at the ready to aid in the process. Outside, there's nothing to lean on, and what amounts to about 0.7 miles, from one end of my street and back, feels like a trek. My lungs burn, just like back on the Figure Eight. My feet hurt, and the bad karma of tennis practice is swirling in my brain.
The difference? There's no angry coach this time to chastise me for not running hard. It's all on me, and that, in a way, is even more daunting. There is no one harder on myself than, well, myself, and I swear I will make good on this promise.
Care to join me? I'll see you at the starting line come Thanksgiving Day. You may finish before me, and that's okay. I just want to finish. I want to run for a reason other than because some large animal is chasing me, or I'm going to miss a bus, or because it's part of tennis practice. I'm doing this to prove to myself that I can.
The biggest irony? The Road Race course is more than twice as long as the Figure Eight. For good measure, maybe some of the old members of Middletown track team should line the course, so they can see for themselves that I am no longer in awe, and fear, of them and the awful things that come out of their mouths.
I just hope they don't still have those javelins.
Catcall up some STATS!
Days until wedding: 99. One for each bottle of beer on the wall.
Weight Lost in Week 31: 1 lb
Total weight loss after Week 31: 67.4 lbs
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 112.33 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 84.25 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 31
Months until Road Race: 7.5
Hindrances toward successful road races: cruise line buffets, but mmmm, crab legs.
Feelings about Duke basketball: nothing but bitter, bitter hatred
Number of professional sportswriters, journalists, and college basketball nuts involved in recent tourney pool: 10
Person who won second, including defeating me. The 11th person- Megan.
Consecutive years Megan has beat me in the NCAA pool: 3. That's just sad.
Friday, April 2, 2010
The Fattening Four
In weeks like this one, the college dining hall was always a source of delectable comfort and indigestion.
As some of you have pointed out (and I do thank you for staying interested), it has been a little while since my last post. It seems that every time I got ready to write over the past 10 days, something has taken precedence, whether it be work (budget season.... egghhhhh), school (back from Spring Break), or calamity (car). I owe two sets of stats, and don't worry, they're coming.
I've been stressed, and in years past, I would have dealt with all this flux in the traditional way: binge eating! Tenseness has always spelled trouble for nearby kitchens, and I've laid waste to my share of packages of EL Fudge cookies and jars of peanut butter in such occasions. Above all, the UConn dining options were the perfect places to execute the binge. One swipe of the card, and I turned into Belushi in Animal House, right down to the careful look-around before snarfing a Jello brick (or to be more accurate, a brownie). Ice cream always calmed the nerves, but I'm hoping those days are behind me.
So now the gym has become my stress outlet. That's bad news for the Keebler company, but good news for my waist line. For the first time in roughly 15 years, I'm wearing a shirt that contains no "X" on the tag. I feel myself getting healthier and happier, a far cry from my days of pouting over a trough of macaroni and cheese.
But that doesn't mean we can't delve back into Belly Bracketology. In our last episode, a field of 16 causes of college weight gain was narrowed down to the fattening four. It was a helluva battle for many participants, who did their best to increase my gut but just not enough to win their regionals.
Before we get to the semifinals, some business: One of my old fraternity brothers made a keen observation that I had forgotten. In addition to all the fried deliciousness offered, Jonathan's used to serve Freihofer's goodies. Had I remembered that, Jonathan's might just have eked out a regional victory over South Dining Hall. However, in any tournament, mitigating factors bite teams in the rear. Consider my forgetfulness a blown knee to Jonathan's. It was a game changer, but hindsight 20/20 doesn't equal advancement. Decision stands!
Also, some people have submitted some questions about establishments not included in the bracket. Kathy John's, for example, was omitted, mainly because I didn't know students who went to the restaurant unless their parents were visiting campus.
The Dairy Bar, in hindsight, should have been included, except I never really went there until after graduation. That's probably a good thing, otherwise I would have waddled more when I walked.
McDonald's and Friendly's also got ignored. Why? Because they're uberchains, and you van get a McFlurry or Conehead darn near anywhere.
So here we go. Lace em' up!
Semifinal #1: Chuck's/Margaritas vs. South Dining Hall
Margaritas goes into this matchup as the decided underdog, and sad to say, it is no Butler. South had Mexican food on its menu (though low quality) and a hamburger bar (ditto). It also had pizza, the Asian fusion station, and the comfort line, not to mention the dessert bars. If I'm headed up to campus now, I'd be glad to stop by Margaritas for a trumpet section reunion. However, South is a juggernaut. Winner: South Dining Hall
Semifinal #2: DP Dough vs. Wings over Storrs
This is the UConn vs. Duke of the tournament. It's a toss-up, and really just a question of who wants it more. Early in college, DP Dough was like that friend who you really never planned to see, but always ran into and hung out. I don't remember many evenings where Dough was a goal, but by midnight, I'd be tipping the delivery driver. Wings emerged over the years and became a staple of my late-night diet. DC-3s were the preferred course, but the fries never failed to be soggy and sucky. Dough, meanwhile, never failed me, from "healthier" varieties like pesto or eggplants to coronary threats like bacon cheeseburger or fried Twinkie and Cinnabon (I might have made that last one up). And since DP Dough did, in fact, make me doughier, it wins and goes on to the championship. Winner: DP Dough
Championship: South Dining Hall vs. DP Dough
If Dick Vitale were calling this matchup, three things would happen. First, he's find some way to praise Coach K, even though he has absolutely nothing to do with a UConn food tournament. Second, Vitale would say something that sounded vaguely inappropriate toward a cheeseburger or calzone, drawing a bewildered look from the play-by-play guy. And third, security would escort Vitale from the building, because I want him far away from my tournament.
Anyway, of all the food options at UConn, these were my most frequent choices. I practically own stock in DP Dough, and I nearly caused dining services to rethink its all-you-can-eat policy through my trips to South. Both of these establishments contributed mightily to my weight gain. And everyday, I miss them both terribly.
South wins for one simple reason: it was free. Well, free to me, anyway, since it was my poor parents who got the meal plan bill. Had DP Dough accepted HuskyBucks, or whatever the heck they were called, I would declare Dough the champion and wish them well as the staff climbed the greasy ladder to cut down the nets. But that wasn't the case then, and so South, it's time for your moment. This is for your soft serve machine, your bottomless tub of stuffing, your waffle fries, your ever-flowing soda fountain, and your dedication to ensuring that the Freshman 15 is part of the UConn experience.
And with that, here's two heaping, delicious spoonfuls... of STATS!
As some of you have pointed out (and I do thank you for staying interested), it has been a little while since my last post. It seems that every time I got ready to write over the past 10 days, something has taken precedence, whether it be work (budget season.... egghhhhh), school (back from Spring Break), or calamity (car). I owe two sets of stats, and don't worry, they're coming.
I've been stressed, and in years past, I would have dealt with all this flux in the traditional way: binge eating! Tenseness has always spelled trouble for nearby kitchens, and I've laid waste to my share of packages of EL Fudge cookies and jars of peanut butter in such occasions. Above all, the UConn dining options were the perfect places to execute the binge. One swipe of the card, and I turned into Belushi in Animal House, right down to the careful look-around before snarfing a Jello brick (or to be more accurate, a brownie). Ice cream always calmed the nerves, but I'm hoping those days are behind me.
So now the gym has become my stress outlet. That's bad news for the Keebler company, but good news for my waist line. For the first time in roughly 15 years, I'm wearing a shirt that contains no "X" on the tag. I feel myself getting healthier and happier, a far cry from my days of pouting over a trough of macaroni and cheese.
But that doesn't mean we can't delve back into Belly Bracketology. In our last episode, a field of 16 causes of college weight gain was narrowed down to the fattening four. It was a helluva battle for many participants, who did their best to increase my gut but just not enough to win their regionals.
Before we get to the semifinals, some business: One of my old fraternity brothers made a keen observation that I had forgotten. In addition to all the fried deliciousness offered, Jonathan's used to serve Freihofer's goodies. Had I remembered that, Jonathan's might just have eked out a regional victory over South Dining Hall. However, in any tournament, mitigating factors bite teams in the rear. Consider my forgetfulness a blown knee to Jonathan's. It was a game changer, but hindsight 20/20 doesn't equal advancement. Decision stands!
Also, some people have submitted some questions about establishments not included in the bracket. Kathy John's, for example, was omitted, mainly because I didn't know students who went to the restaurant unless their parents were visiting campus.
The Dairy Bar, in hindsight, should have been included, except I never really went there until after graduation. That's probably a good thing, otherwise I would have waddled more when I walked.
McDonald's and Friendly's also got ignored. Why? Because they're uberchains, and you van get a McFlurry or Conehead darn near anywhere.
So here we go. Lace em' up!
Semifinal #1: Chuck's/Margaritas vs. South Dining Hall
Margaritas goes into this matchup as the decided underdog, and sad to say, it is no Butler. South had Mexican food on its menu (though low quality) and a hamburger bar (ditto). It also had pizza, the Asian fusion station, and the comfort line, not to mention the dessert bars. If I'm headed up to campus now, I'd be glad to stop by Margaritas for a trumpet section reunion. However, South is a juggernaut. Winner: South Dining Hall
Semifinal #2: DP Dough vs. Wings over Storrs
This is the UConn vs. Duke of the tournament. It's a toss-up, and really just a question of who wants it more. Early in college, DP Dough was like that friend who you really never planned to see, but always ran into and hung out. I don't remember many evenings where Dough was a goal, but by midnight, I'd be tipping the delivery driver. Wings emerged over the years and became a staple of my late-night diet. DC-3s were the preferred course, but the fries never failed to be soggy and sucky. Dough, meanwhile, never failed me, from "healthier" varieties like pesto or eggplants to coronary threats like bacon cheeseburger or fried Twinkie and Cinnabon (I might have made that last one up). And since DP Dough did, in fact, make me doughier, it wins and goes on to the championship. Winner: DP Dough
Championship: South Dining Hall vs. DP Dough
If Dick Vitale were calling this matchup, three things would happen. First, he's find some way to praise Coach K, even though he has absolutely nothing to do with a UConn food tournament. Second, Vitale would say something that sounded vaguely inappropriate toward a cheeseburger or calzone, drawing a bewildered look from the play-by-play guy. And third, security would escort Vitale from the building, because I want him far away from my tournament.
Anyway, of all the food options at UConn, these were my most frequent choices. I practically own stock in DP Dough, and I nearly caused dining services to rethink its all-you-can-eat policy through my trips to South. Both of these establishments contributed mightily to my weight gain. And everyday, I miss them both terribly.
South wins for one simple reason: it was free. Well, free to me, anyway, since it was my poor parents who got the meal plan bill. Had DP Dough accepted HuskyBucks, or whatever the heck they were called, I would declare Dough the champion and wish them well as the staff climbed the greasy ladder to cut down the nets. But that wasn't the case then, and so South, it's time for your moment. This is for your soft serve machine, your bottomless tub of stuffing, your waffle fries, your ever-flowing soda fountain, and your dedication to ensuring that the Freshman 15 is part of the UConn experience.
And with that, here's two heaping, delicious spoonfuls... of STATS!
Days until wedding: 105.
Weight lost in Week 29: 0.8 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 29: 65.4 lbs
Weight Lost in Week 30: 1 lb
Total weight loss after Week 30: 66.4 lbs
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 110.67 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 83 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 30. Take that, UConn Women's Basketball. You thought your streak was impressive?
Sickening thought: The New York Yankees and the Duke Blue Devils might win titles in the same year. I will now cry bitter tears into my Kevin Youkilis replica shirt.
Status of my 1996 Toyota Camry: Dead. And no longer mine, for that matter.
Status of my 2007 Toyota Corolla: Alive and quite peppy.
Afikoman status: hidden.
Easter Eggs status: Also hidden.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Belly Bracketology
Now that my calorie consumption is now under relative control, it's hard not to look back at my college eating habits without wanting to kick myself in the gut.
We all know about the Freshman 15, the weight that college students put on at the start of their post-high school education, when suddenly all-you-can-eat becomes the norm and beer flows from water fountains. For some people-myself, for example- 15 is nothing. In college, I would guess I gained about 45 pounds from the start of my freshman year til the day I got my diploma. Granted, my ruptured disc left me exercise-incapacitated my senior year, but that is still way too much weight.
The beer wasn't my undoing (I actually didn't become a big beer drinker until junior and senior year). No, for me, college weight gain was caused by my meal plan and the number of ordering-out options available on and off and campus.
Given the season, with March madness upon us and the Huskies still alive in the NIT (the "Not Invited Tournament), I thought it would only be appropriate to look back on my college habits the way I got through so many boring classes: Bracketology. I determined many important things, like my favorite comedians and movie characters, simply by seeding them all, placing them in a large bracket, and having them "play" each other until a winner was determined. It begs to reason the same would work to determine not necessarily the best food on campus, but what establishments caused my belly to bust. We'll do four regions, four "teams" per instead of 16 (otherwise this blog would go on forever). Without further ado...
The Wing Region
Matchup: #1 Wings over Storrs vs. #4 Wings Express
Wings over Storrs opened by freshman year and quickly became the source for wings. So much so, my buddy Bill and I once held a wing tournament to determine our favorite flavor. The big winner: Golden BBQ, over Teriyaki in the final. Wings Express, meanwhile, quickly lost favor.
Winner: Wings over Storrs
Matchup: #2 Bidwell Tavern vs. #3 Red Rock
Every UConn or ECSU student knows the legend of Bidwell's wings. Located a few miles off campus, the tavern was a bit of a field trip, but the flavors were fantastic. Dry rub or sauce, Bidwell's wings were the topic of epic poetry. Red Rock had some good wings in its own right, but compared to Bidwell, it didn't stack up. Winner: Bidwell
Regional Final: #1 Wings over Storrs vs. Bidwell Tavern
As great as Bidwell was, it was simply too far away to frequently clog my arteries. Wings, on the other hand, was right off campus and delivered until the wee hours of the morning. Today, I'd choose Bidwell in a heartbeat, but when you're a campus-stuck student, convenience is key.
Winner: Wings over Storrs
The Pizza/Calzone/Grinder Region
Matchup: #1 Willington Pizza vs. #4 Sgt. Pepperoni
Like Bidwell, Willington Pizza was a bit of a hike, but it was pretty darn good. However, it was a bit overseeded, the Duke of this bracket, you might say. Sgt. Pep's didn't have the greatest pizza, but the calzones were fantastic, and again, location counts for something. I'm calling the upset. Winner: Sgt. Pep's
Matchup: #2 DP Dough vs. #3 Ted's Grinders
As chicken cutlets go, I'm still dreaming of Ted's. Whether parmed or merely cheesed, the sandwiches were amazing. But DP Dough is an institution, and over the course of four years, I probably spent more on cheap quality calzones than I did on textbooks (just kidding Mom). Winner: DP Dough
Regional Final: #2 DP Dough vs. #4 Sgt. Pepperoni
Sgt. Pep's made a mean calzone, but you had to get inventive. DP Dough took care of the creativity and got you anything you could possibly imagine. My heart hurts just thinking about it. Winner: DP Dough
So the "Fattening Four" stage is set. In one semifinal, we've got Wings over Storrs battling DP Dough. In the other, it's South Dining Hall vs. Chuck's/Margarita's. Who will win? Check back later this week, and maybe you can influence the matchups by voting via the comment section.
One things for sure: it's a miracle my waistline ever survived the UConn calorie gauntlet. In retrospect, I was lucky I only gained 45 pounds.
No great tournament would be complete without STATS!
Days until wedding: 119.
Pounds lost in Week 29: 1.8
Total weight lost: 64.6 lbs
Progress toward 60-pound goal: 107.67 percent
Progress toward new 80-pound goal: 80.75 percent
Weight left to lose before hitting new goal: 15.4 pounds
Body Fat: 21 percent. Apparently, that's within the range of an average adult my height.
Last time my body fat was "average": Week 33 as a fetus
Blog Subscribers: 46.
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 29
My tournament bracket: shredded. Why, oh why, do I keep picking Kansas?
We all know about the Freshman 15, the weight that college students put on at the start of their post-high school education, when suddenly all-you-can-eat becomes the norm and beer flows from water fountains. For some people-myself, for example- 15 is nothing. In college, I would guess I gained about 45 pounds from the start of my freshman year til the day I got my diploma. Granted, my ruptured disc left me exercise-incapacitated my senior year, but that is still way too much weight.
The beer wasn't my undoing (I actually didn't become a big beer drinker until junior and senior year). No, for me, college weight gain was caused by my meal plan and the number of ordering-out options available on and off and campus.
Given the season, with March madness upon us and the Huskies still alive in the NIT (the "Not Invited Tournament), I thought it would only be appropriate to look back on my college habits the way I got through so many boring classes: Bracketology. I determined many important things, like my favorite comedians and movie characters, simply by seeding them all, placing them in a large bracket, and having them "play" each other until a winner was determined. It begs to reason the same would work to determine not necessarily the best food on campus, but what establishments caused my belly to bust. We'll do four regions, four "teams" per instead of 16 (otherwise this blog would go on forever). Without further ado...
The Wing Region
Matchup: #1 Wings over Storrs vs. #4 Wings Express
Wings over Storrs opened by freshman year and quickly became the source for wings. So much so, my buddy Bill and I once held a wing tournament to determine our favorite flavor. The big winner: Golden BBQ, over Teriyaki in the final. Wings Express, meanwhile, quickly lost favor.
Winner: Wings over Storrs
Matchup: #2 Bidwell Tavern vs. #3 Red Rock
Every UConn or ECSU student knows the legend of Bidwell's wings. Located a few miles off campus, the tavern was a bit of a field trip, but the flavors were fantastic. Dry rub or sauce, Bidwell's wings were the topic of epic poetry. Red Rock had some good wings in its own right, but compared to Bidwell, it didn't stack up. Winner: Bidwell
Regional Final: #1 Wings over Storrs vs. Bidwell Tavern
As great as Bidwell was, it was simply too far away to frequently clog my arteries. Wings, on the other hand, was right off campus and delivered until the wee hours of the morning. Today, I'd choose Bidwell in a heartbeat, but when you're a campus-stuck student, convenience is key.
Winner: Wings over Storrs
The Pizza/Calzone/Grinder Region
Matchup: #1 Willington Pizza vs. #4 Sgt. Pepperoni
Like Bidwell, Willington Pizza was a bit of a hike, but it was pretty darn good. However, it was a bit overseeded, the Duke of this bracket, you might say. Sgt. Pep's didn't have the greatest pizza, but the calzones were fantastic, and again, location counts for something. I'm calling the upset. Winner: Sgt. Pep's
Matchup: #2 DP Dough vs. #3 Ted's Grinders
As chicken cutlets go, I'm still dreaming of Ted's. Whether parmed or merely cheesed, the sandwiches were amazing. But DP Dough is an institution, and over the course of four years, I probably spent more on cheap quality calzones than I did on textbooks (just kidding Mom). Winner: DP Dough
Regional Final: #2 DP Dough vs. #4 Sgt. Pepperoni
Sgt. Pep's made a mean calzone, but you had to get inventive. DP Dough took care of the creativity and got you anything you could possibly imagine. My heart hurts just thinking about it. Winner: DP Dough
The "International" Region
Matchup: #1 Chang's Garden vs. #4 Tin Tsin
I am pretty sure the latter no longer exists, and anyone who ever had the eggroll-related indigestion knows that's not necessarily a bad thing. Chang's Garden made a great sesame chicken and usually had more friendly delivery people. Easy victory here. Winner: Chang's Garden
Matchup: #2 Chuck's/Margaritas vs. #3 Angellino's
Both these were popular places for when the parents came up to visit. I didn't develop my full love for Mexican food until I made it to the West Coast, but Margarita's was always a great place for trumpet section dinners. Winner: Chuck's/Margaritas
Regional Final: #1 Chang's Garden vs. #2 Chuck's Margaritas
As great as Chang's was, cheese is an awkward thing to add to Chinese food. With Mexican, on the other hand, it's one of the three major ingredients. Mmmmm, quesadillas. Winner: Chuck's/Margaritas
The Dining Services Region
Matchup: #1 South Dining Hall vs. #4 Towers Dining Hall
South was the standard for all you-can-gain dining. That place had stuffing every night, a full grill, ice cream, dessert stand, comfort food, pizza, and I think occasionally a violinist would serenade you and your friends while you ate. Towers got points for its Grab and Go (where I worked senior year) and for its kosher dining station, but head-to-head with South, it's like like 2004 Huskies taking on the 2010 Huskies. Winner: South Dining Hall
Matchup: #2 Jonathan's vs. #3 WEBB Site Grab and Go
This is a battle. Both places were great for stocking your dorm room pantry. Tell me if this sounds familiar: two weeks left in the semester, 48 meals left on the plan. Time to hit the grab-and-gos for all the Powerade, chips, and brownies you could bag. I heard Jonathan's might no longer be around, but it wins this battle by merit of onion rings and chicken dippers. Winner: Jonathan's
Regional Final: #1 South Dining Hall vs. #2 Jonathan's
South was the destination for every preseason band meal and many dinners year-round. Jonathan's was the cap to every AEPi chapter meeting. Between the two establishments, my cholesterol frequently threatened to punch me in the face. But Jonathan's didn't have all-you-can-eat stuffing or soft-serve machines. Word of advice: don't mix up the two. I do not recommend a cone full of Stove Top. Winner: South Dining Hall
So the "Fattening Four" stage is set. In one semifinal, we've got Wings over Storrs battling DP Dough. In the other, it's South Dining Hall vs. Chuck's/Margarita's. Who will win? Check back later this week, and maybe you can influence the matchups by voting via the comment section.
One things for sure: it's a miracle my waistline ever survived the UConn calorie gauntlet. In retrospect, I was lucky I only gained 45 pounds.
No great tournament would be complete without STATS!
Days until wedding: 119.
Pounds lost in Week 29: 1.8
Total weight lost: 64.6 lbs
Progress toward 60-pound goal: 107.67 percent
Progress toward new 80-pound goal: 80.75 percent
Weight left to lose before hitting new goal: 15.4 pounds
Body Fat: 21 percent. Apparently, that's within the range of an average adult my height.
Last time my body fat was "average": Week 33 as a fetus
Blog Subscribers: 46.
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 29
My tournament bracket: shredded. Why, oh why, do I keep picking Kansas?
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Melon Equilibrium
I'm not kidding, that boy's head is like Sputnik; spherical but quite pointy at parts! Now that was offside, wasn't it? He'll be crying himself to sleep tonight, on his huge pillow. --"So I Married an Axe Murderer"
If word ever spreads that I'm in some sort of coma, you can bet it has something to do with a self-inflicted head injury.
I've been bumping my head on a regular basis for the past six months. My balance has been off, and for the first time in many years, my equilibrium is in a state of flux.
In truth, Sputnik is a little too small to accurately describe the size of my noggin. I have always had a huge cranium, even before the days when my body mass caught up to me. As a kid, I had that whole Pez dispenser thing going on. While I couldn't deliver candy from my neck, the effect was basically the same.
As I gained weight, my head became more proportional. I still had a massive head, and there were plenty of people who never let me forget it. Case in point: as a high school senior, I took a creative writing class. One day, the lesson focused on metaphors and similes. When asked for an example, one particular wise guy grinned smugly and said "Matt's head is as big as Europe."
Interesting choice of words. I don't know how that geography would work, i.e. if my nose were, say, Switzerland, my left ear Poland, and my right ear Ireland. I just know that my head is large, and for those wishing to buy me a gift, I would suggest not going with a fitted baseball cap.
Yet as a big guy, my head was proportional to the rest of my body. The same goes for my facial features. I had bigger ears than many of my classmates, but they seemed to fit me well. The same goes for the nose; while certainly not to the level of Steve Martin in "Roxanne," it's definitely on the larger side. Yet since the rest of me was also oversized, few people would ever look at me and mutter about the size of my schnoz.
My weight loss is up to about 63 pounds. And as much of me is shrinking in a good way, like my waistline and chest, there are other parts that cannot get smaller. As such, my head is starting to look ginormous again, and I've started to be a little subconscious about my ears.
The proportions, however, aren't the real problem. It's the balance. To put it bluntly, my melon's equilibrium is in a funk, and I'm in danger of getting juiced.
Here are just a few examples, all from within the time period of when I began Weight Watchers...
-Several instances of striking my forehead against the door frame of a car. I'd like to think it would just be misjudging the berth of someone else's vehicle, and certainly many of the bonks have been courtesy of Megan's car, but my own Camry has gotten a few good shots on my skull as well. And I've been driving that car for three years now.
-About a month ago, I was sitting at the dining room table at Megan's parents' house. I got up too quickly and forgot about the chandelier hanging overhead. I bumped my cranium right into one of the lamps, which, and there are witnesses to back me up, actually got brighter after making considerable contact with my head.
-Today, I was bringing a load of groceries in from the car. I opened the screen door to the apartment and nailed myself right between the eyes. My head still hurts, and the welt to prove it.
Am I truly worried? Well, not really, but one of these times, I'm going to knock myself out. A concussion is a respectable injury for a quarterback, but just for some goofball carrying groceries inside the house, it's not something to really brag about.
I'm not done yet with losing weight (at the very least, I'm hopeful to keep up the progress). I just hope I'm not going to have to start wearing a bike helmet everywhere I go.
When he hits his head, Roger Rabbit sees stars. I hit mine, and all I see are STATS!
Weeks until wedding: 21.
Pounds lost in Week 28: 0.6
Total weight lost: 62.8 lbs
Percentage toward 60-pound goal: 104.67 percent
Percentage toward new 80-pound goal: 78.5 percent
Weight left to lose before hitting new goal: 17.2 pounds.
Blog Subscribers: 46. No change from last week.
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 28. I'm liking this streak. (just be glad I'm not streaking).
UConn men's NCAA hopes: nil.
And the UConn women: Shouldn't they just get a bye to the final game?
Weight of average person's head: 8 pounds, according to the kid in "Jerry Maguire."
Weight of my head: Guessing about 42 pounds.
If word ever spreads that I'm in some sort of coma, you can bet it has something to do with a self-inflicted head injury.
I've been bumping my head on a regular basis for the past six months. My balance has been off, and for the first time in many years, my equilibrium is in a state of flux.
In truth, Sputnik is a little too small to accurately describe the size of my noggin. I have always had a huge cranium, even before the days when my body mass caught up to me. As a kid, I had that whole Pez dispenser thing going on. While I couldn't deliver candy from my neck, the effect was basically the same.
As I gained weight, my head became more proportional. I still had a massive head, and there were plenty of people who never let me forget it. Case in point: as a high school senior, I took a creative writing class. One day, the lesson focused on metaphors and similes. When asked for an example, one particular wise guy grinned smugly and said "Matt's head is as big as Europe."
Interesting choice of words. I don't know how that geography would work, i.e. if my nose were, say, Switzerland, my left ear Poland, and my right ear Ireland. I just know that my head is large, and for those wishing to buy me a gift, I would suggest not going with a fitted baseball cap.
Yet as a big guy, my head was proportional to the rest of my body. The same goes for my facial features. I had bigger ears than many of my classmates, but they seemed to fit me well. The same goes for the nose; while certainly not to the level of Steve Martin in "Roxanne," it's definitely on the larger side. Yet since the rest of me was also oversized, few people would ever look at me and mutter about the size of my schnoz.
My weight loss is up to about 63 pounds. And as much of me is shrinking in a good way, like my waistline and chest, there are other parts that cannot get smaller. As such, my head is starting to look ginormous again, and I've started to be a little subconscious about my ears.
The proportions, however, aren't the real problem. It's the balance. To put it bluntly, my melon's equilibrium is in a funk, and I'm in danger of getting juiced.
Here are just a few examples, all from within the time period of when I began Weight Watchers...
-Several instances of striking my forehead against the door frame of a car. I'd like to think it would just be misjudging the berth of someone else's vehicle, and certainly many of the bonks have been courtesy of Megan's car, but my own Camry has gotten a few good shots on my skull as well. And I've been driving that car for three years now.
-About a month ago, I was sitting at the dining room table at Megan's parents' house. I got up too quickly and forgot about the chandelier hanging overhead. I bumped my cranium right into one of the lamps, which, and there are witnesses to back me up, actually got brighter after making considerable contact with my head.
-Today, I was bringing a load of groceries in from the car. I opened the screen door to the apartment and nailed myself right between the eyes. My head still hurts, and the welt to prove it.
Am I truly worried? Well, not really, but one of these times, I'm going to knock myself out. A concussion is a respectable injury for a quarterback, but just for some goofball carrying groceries inside the house, it's not something to really brag about.
I'm not done yet with losing weight (at the very least, I'm hopeful to keep up the progress). I just hope I'm not going to have to start wearing a bike helmet everywhere I go.
When he hits his head, Roger Rabbit sees stars. I hit mine, and all I see are STATS!
Weeks until wedding: 21.
Pounds lost in Week 28: 0.6
Total weight lost: 62.8 lbs
Percentage toward 60-pound goal: 104.67 percent
Percentage toward new 80-pound goal: 78.5 percent
Weight left to lose before hitting new goal: 17.2 pounds.
Blog Subscribers: 46. No change from last week.
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 28. I'm liking this streak. (just be glad I'm not streaking).
UConn men's NCAA hopes: nil.
And the UConn women: Shouldn't they just get a bye to the final game?
Weight of average person's head: 8 pounds, according to the kid in "Jerry Maguire."
Weight of my head: Guessing about 42 pounds.
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