66,000 Calories

I think I found them.  No, really.  Now, before I get started, I'll say this:  I've been reading/hearing about the whole paleo thing for a while.  I'm not convinced this is all calories-in/calories-out.  It makes sense to me to pay attention to insulin levels (especially in my family).  But right now, I'm going to suss out the calories that have messed me up lately.

Working out--I was pretty good at getting in good workouts two to three times a week before the babies came home.  If you figure 500 calories per session (not a stretch, given my size and what I do), that's 1000 calories a week x 36 weeks.  That's 36,000 calories, or about ten pounds.

Now, here's the second part of the equation.  30,000 calories over 36 weeks is about 833 calories a week.  That's about 119 calories a day more than I need.  Can I say I didn't go over by 119 calories a day for that period?  No way.   I mean, what's 100 calories?  NOTHING.  A margin of error for me.  But if you eat it consistently, it will show.

I have a friend whose mother gained a lot of weigh over 30 years.  She really got big.  But if you did the math, it came down to 200 extra calories a day.  A candy bar a day, almost.

It doesn't take much.  So here I am.  The combination of lack of movement and lack of mindfulness got me back up.

I went to the gym today at 5:45 am.

(Thanks for your support, Ginger.)

Here I am again

I feel kind of bad for anyone who may actually be trying to follow this blog. I'm not here much. It's true that my life has gotten fuller and busier in the last year or so. But still.

In any event, please don't read this blog if you want advice on how to lose weight and keep it off. Apparently I don't know how to do it. I was perking along there for a while, but I've put on 17 pounds in the last nine or ten months. I can't believe that I've ingested 66,000 extra calories, but apparently I have. That or the lack of working out matters more than I thought. In any event, I'm pretty dejected. I'm not going off on a binge or anything, but it definitely makes eating right and exercising (i.e. giving a shit about yourself) seem extraneous and futile.

Yeah, bad day/week. But I walked to the train today. It's a (re-) start.

Checking in

I know it's been a while.  It's been a hard few months.  Since the twins came home, I've been unable to hit the gym (and I'm not going to go into why), and I've been eating stuff I shouldn't (because I don't do heroin), and I've put on some weight.  Not tons.  Maybe nine pounds since last summer.  But it's disappointing.

I've hit the gym now three days in a row though (yay me!), and I've been working hard not to eat my feelings.  I've had middling success, but I think I can do almost anything a day at a time, so that's what I'm doing.

[Ginger, if you read this, would you invite me to your blog?]

Hope everyone is well.

Skip

Well, shit.

So, over the last several months, I haven't been to the gym much.  New babies, etc., you know the deal.

My clothes have been feeling kind of snug lately, but I was able to convince myself that it was lack of muscle tone, not weight gain, that was making everything hang differently.  For a while, the scale backed me up.  I hadn't gained.

But today, the scale betrayed me.  Which is to say, it paid me back for ignoring it and for the mindless eating I have engaged in lately.  I'm a big guy, and I can eat a lot.  My BMR is high.  Apparently, however, I've exceeded it quite a bit lately.

You can slack in certain areas and never be found out.  If you take a longish lunch, no one may notice.  Hell, if you cheat on your taxes, you might be just fine.

But you can't fool the scale.  Or your waistband. 

The biggest difference for me lately is that I have been eating when not hungry.  To the normal folk out there in the world--the ones who don't do that--eating when not hungry makes no sense.  But I don't smoke, drink to excess, or do drugs.  So I eat, because I haven't yet figured out how to manage my anxiety. 

I know this is it.  I'm working on the learning part.  And now, I'm recommitted to listening to my body.  To remembering that food is fuel (and that that's all it is).

I'm not the only one

So, I just got a heart rate monitor.  I didn't want one that had a chest band thingy because, honestly, I wasn't sure it fit.  I read a list of reviews of a promising one, however, and a big guy said it fit him, so I tumbled.

What I thought was this--a gadget might make working out more interesting.  I don't mind working out.  Really.  I love having worked out.  What I hate is getting off the couch to go.  The promise of a toy might help.  It really might.

So I have used it twice.  I like that it talks to the machine I'm on, and I like that it gives me numbers consistent with what the exercise machines themselves have given me over the last few years.  It also confirms that it's easy for me to be complacent.  I'd like to get my heart rate between, say 137 and 158.  But the elliptical is pretty easy for me to do for a long time at 125.  I mean, I'd have to go faster to get my heart going harder, and I don't wanna.  (Four years ago, I did the elliptical for five minutes and had to get off.  I thought it might kill me.)

Yesterday I did 15 on an elliptical to warm up.  Then I got on the rotating staircase thing.  For six minutes.  Then I had to change.  I could barely breathe.  My heart rate was up to 151.  I believed it.  I tried to make a note of what that felt like.

I did another 9 minutes on a different elliptical, and that was it.  My heart rate, once over 140 never dropped below it until I went to stretch and do abs.

Now, here is the question.  My monitor calculates calories spent based on "total body stress" and the weight I entered when I set it up.  For a total of 43 minutes (including stretching), it said I burned 937 calories.  And I don't believe it.  I don't.  I mean, I am a big guy and all, and I was working hard.  But that's a lot of calories. 

I googled the topic and it seems that a lot of people think the monitors give too high a calculation.  I'm going to figure on half the number being true, and use whatever it gives me as a kind of benchmark.  But I don't think 937 is accurate.  Anyone else?

Progress

The Anti-Jared has a good post right now.  His point is that you can't cheat your body.  It knows if you have been treating it well or not.  You can eat badly for a few days and not gain, but if you do it all the time, you will.  At a minimum, you will feel less well.  Have a look:  http://theantijared.com/2011/07/the-house-always-wins.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+TheAnti-jared+%28The+Anti-Jared%29

To that end, I'm down to about where I was pre-hospital weight.  Mostly, I have been watching portion sizes and eating good food.  Real food.  No doughnuts.  If you look at www.refusetoregain.com (at the right side of this page), you will see that the writer emphasizes the importance of the quality of the calories one ingests, not just the number.  Her theory is based on insulin load in response to certain foods.  She does not believe it's a zero sum game.  I 'm not sure I do, either.

When I was in my recent doughnut phase, I don't think I ate an extra 10,500-14,000 calories in a couple of weeks (3-4 pounds).  I really don't.  But I do think that the fried, carbo-goodness of doughnuts wrecked havoc on my body's blood sugar.  (Note:  I am not diabetic, knock wood.)  In less than a month, I was up a solid six pounds.  I started eating better (not really much less, either), drinking more water, too, and I'm back down.  (I guess it's possible that I was just "impacted," if you know what I mean.  It's possible that dehydration was making me retain water.  Either way, it was a decent reminder that eating good food is a reward in itself.

I have been frustrated at the stagnancy of my loss.  But staying the same doesn't suck, given my history.  So I'll keep doing what I'm doing, and I'll get back to the gym.

Speaking of, I haven't been to the gym much in the last seven weeks or so.  One baby came home from the hospital last Wednesday, and I think the other one will come home tomorrow or Tuesday.  It's made for a crazy sleep schedule, and it's hard for me to get to the gym when I can barely see straight.  But I'll get back.  Everything I read says you can't exercise away a bad diet, so I'm going to focus on eating in a healthy way for now and hit the gym when I can.

Just strange

So, I was complaining about the scale last time.  The other night, I went to bed at 330.2.  That's the highest in a long time.  I lose at night (it's all water).  This morning, after breakfast, the gym, and a post-workout greek yogurt, I was at 321.2.  So strange.  So so strange.

What to do

Ok, I'm in maintenance.  Sort of.  I'm doing everything I'm supposed to do.  I'm eating plenty (like the fat2fit guys say to do), and I've been working out pretty regularly.  But this week, as of today, I'm up.  On October 23 I was at 323. On November 27, I was at 319.2.  Last week, 322.4. Today, 326.8.

As I write this, I realize that it's not a huge swing.  At the margins, when you're this fat, six or seven pounds doesn't mean much, size-wise.  It would be a much bigger deal if I'd gone from 219 to 226.  (A man can dream.)  Even then, not horrible.  But there is no way I have had 14,000 extra calories in a week.

I've changed up my workouts this week, too.  I've been working out more, and I finally got away from the elliptical and the bike.  Now, I can do the elliptical for an hour at a good pace.  I'll get bored before I get tired.  So I got on the miniature staircase that is the new Stairmaster.  Ten minutes the first two times.  Fifteen yesterday.  That thing kicks my ass.  I will keep doing it along with the elliptical.

I think my legs are bigger after a few times of this.  I'm either retaining some water or I've built some muscle.  The former is probably more likely.  Everything I've heard and read says you can't build muscle when you're also losing fat.  I don't care so much about building muscle.  I want to retain what I have, though.

Anyway, this is very frustrating.  When I step back, I realize that my clothes fit, and I am moving well.  I don't want to do this in an unhealthy way.  But damn.  Tony (theantijared, at right) lost 200 pounds in a year.  He looks great (though he works out more than I would).  And Sean (Daily Diary at right) is down almost 300 pounds in two years.  Maybe I shouldn't compare myself, but I'm big enough that the weight should come off.

I've been trying to find articles about a body's adjustment after a 10% loss, which is what I've done (twice!), but I haven't seen anything.  I think it would be helpful if I found something that said after you drop 35 pounds, the body needs six months to regroup.  If that happens, I'll let you know.

Time for coffee.

Injuries

I think 2010 will go down as the year of the injuries for me.  In March, I had posterior tibial tendonitis, due, in part, to my seriously flat feet.  Then a month ago it was the back problem.  Multi-level degenerative disc disease.  Runs in the family.

I'm sure the weight doesn't help, but such is life.  I have a (very) thin buddy who has had disc trouble for a couple of years.  Weight isn't the only variable.

It's hard not to get discouraged.  In fact, I went to the gym today for the first time in three weeks.  I have missed it, but I didn't really realize how much or in what way.  Fundamentally, it felt good to move.  I did 15 minutes on the elliptical (PT's orders) and then I did a round of core exercises.  It was just really nice to be there and do that, even for a short time.  I'll do something similar tomorrow.

I also came up with a schedule for where I'd like to be:


I started (again) April 1, 2010 at 358 (I'd been lower and had put on some pounds).  I'm right at 320 now.

Here's where and when I'd like to be.

By April 1, 2011—300.

By October 1, 2011—270

By April 1, 2012—250

By October 1, 2012—220.

By April 1, 2012—200.

That feels very ambitious.  It also feels slow.  I want to wear cool clothes now.  NOW.  I have some already that I'm close to getting into.  In a year and a half, I think I'll be able to wear anything I want.  And yes, I'm willing to have surgery to remove excess skin.

I think one of the reasons people get impatient is because you're sick of being fat now, but it takes time to lose.  It's discouraging.  It is.  But I feel better eating the way I'm eating than the way I used to (which wasn't terrible, but was too much).  The other day, I wanted a snack about 4pm and went down to the lobby of my building.  I was going to get a scone from Starbuck's, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I got a turkey sandwich from a store next door.  Saved some calories and a lot of fat.  I could have done the scone.  I had the "budget" for it.  But there are better choices.  I made one.  It might be a habit.  An actual good habit--taking care of myself.  Shocking.

It will take a while.  At least a year and a half.  But what else am I gonna do?  Order pizza?

Two things

First, more on my back.  I have a Pars defect, which is essentially a broken vertebra.  Cut a doughnut in half and you know what I mean.  This break allows the spine to slide out of place, pinch nerves and cause pain.  It's either a stress fracture or congenital.  I didn't play football in high school, so I imagine I was born with it.  Physical therapy is in my future. 

Next, I wanted to talk about the article in Marie Clare magazine by Maura Kelly, Should 'Fatties' Get a Room (Even on TV)?  I've seen a number of articles about it, and I understand that Maura Kelly is a former anorexic.  Basically, she doesn't want to see fat people do much of anything, from walking across a room to making out and getting it on.

The article was insensitive at best (hell, just the title was insensitive).  Most fat people feel invisible anyway.  I don't think most people (fat or thin) think of fat people as sexual (though I have a theory that heavier people are more sexual than thin ones.  Maybe I'll write about this sometime).   I find Kelly's thought process interesting.

She says that being fat is shameful.  Commenters all over the web are saying she's mean.  But I think most people agree with her.  I think most fat people agree with her.  The sense of shame at being fat is enormous (pardon the pun?).  Once in a WW meeting, a leader said that you can be a drug addict or an alcoholic and it's not obvious to others just by looking at you (for a while, anyway).  But everyone knows if you're fat.  Lots of fat people feel ashamed and loathe themselves.  Lots of people fear being fat.

That's what I think is going on with Maura Kelly.  She's deathly afraid of being fat.  And we hate in others what we hate in ourselves. 

I understand that fear.  I've put on a couple of pounds lately.  It might be last week's cake.  It might be that I've figured out the high range of what I can safely eat.  It might be the meds I'm on for the back (they make me thirsty, and I think I'm retaining water).  It might be a lack of exercise (which I am not allowed to engage in right now). But it scares the shit out of me.  I'm about 80 pounds down from my all-time high.  I have a long way to go, too.  I don't want to go back to how I was.

So I'm going to keep eating right and eat a little less.  I'm just going to ride it out.  I was hoping to be down twenty pounds from now by Christmas.  That's very unlikely now.  But I've had some success, too, so I'm going to focus on that and on taking care of myself.  I'm also going to try to feel some sympathy for Maura Kelly, because she fears what I fear.

Fear

I don't know about you, but I have made a commitment to change my life and to become a thin person for the years I have left.

I have done this at least twice before.

I really think I have it in me to lose the weight and to keep it off.

The possibility of failure scares me to death.

Like Drew Carey, I am sick of being fat.  When I lost about 80 pounds in high school, I went to a doctor who had me write down everything I ate and limited me to 1500 calories a day.  If you figure my BMR, that was really, really low.  (Doctors, as a rule, don't know much about nutrition, and the honest ones will admit it.)  I looked good,  but I was pretty sure that once I was thin, I would never have a problem again.  In fact, my dad told me I would always have to be careful, but I just thought he was being a dick.  I gained it back, no problem.  And then some, of course, because that is the refrain to this song.

When I lost about 120 pounds in college, I had no idea what i was doing.  I really didn't.  Back then (late 80s), it wasn't as easy as it is now to get information about how to lose weight safely or how to keep it off.  Here's what I did:  I ate one meal a day, anything I wanted.  This was lunch around 4pm, probably 1000 to 1500 calories.  I ate some more after I turned 21 and could drink beer whenever I wanted.  (Heh.)  But I didn't know anything about working out, and I didn't think I'd need to do that.  I didn't know about BMR, etc.  And I thought that once I was down, I would never be up again.  At 21, I was down to 220 to 225.  You can see a picture on this page.

From age 21-26, I put on 35 to 40 pounds.  Law school will do that to you, especially if you don't know how to eat and don't work out.  I weighed about 260 when I got married at 26. 

From 26 to 37, I put on about 140 pounds, up to 350.  When my wife and I split, I put on at least another 50.  I assume my high was 400, give or take.

So here I am now, doing it again.  I scares me.  It really does.  Eating more (see below) scared me.  What if I start gaining?  What if I eat something and binge?  What if I fall off the wagon completely?  And what if I lose all the weight, buy all new clothes, and then gain 100 pounds?

It could happen.  It has twice.  I think this time is different because I know now that I have to be careful every day from now on.  It's daunting to think of that, but I can do it today.  I can do it tomorrow.  I'm planning on going to meetings forever, too, just like any addict.

It's also easier because I'm actually learning about the mechanics of the body, how much to eat (especially to eat enough).  I work out, too.  When I started losing in 2007, I started going to the gym.  The first time I got on an elliptical machine, I lasted five minutes, and I thought I would die.  Now I go 45 or 50 minutes.  I could go longer, too, but I usually get bored or run out of time before I run out of steam.  I actually like being at the gym, and I LOVE having worked out.  But it's hard to get off the couch most of the time.  (I had a zen moment a few months ago.  I was bored at home on a weekend, so I went to work out.  Amazing!)  Working out is great because everything hangs better. 

I hope this time is different.  I'm trying not to make pronouncements about the rest of my life.  I'm trying to take it all a day at a time, to make the right choices.  A lot of this is about caring for myself instead of punishing myself.  I think I've decided I deserve to be healthy and happy.  I hope it sticks.