A Liberating Week of Personal Progress, Part One

Woody Allen once quipped, “80 percent of success is showing up,” and throughout this year I’ve tried, I believe without fail, to take every opportunity this once in a lifetime experience has afforded me.  I’ve reiterated it often enough that it is one of my themes, but I cannot but be healthier—physically and mentally—the more time I spend at Five Seasons, and so I’ve committed without thinking—whether it be a 6:30am group with Laurie, a spur of the moment lunchtime walk with Joseph around both banks of the Ohio River, or in a second of the day workout, hitting the heavy bag in Stephanie’s kick boxing class—to drop everything that is inconsequential and give attention to what I had neglected for far too long, my health and fitness.  For I will likely never again have the flexibility of so much free time, without being in school or having to work, and if I—nay, when I—get it right, I will never again have to lose so much weight.

Agreeing to do everything that my team thinks will help me improve and knows that I can do has made me greatly more functional, leaner, and keener to try new things in order to get more experiences out of life.  So when Joseph asked me to speak at the Newport HeartChase committee meeting for their mission moment, I didn’t over think it, and I didn’t freak out realizing that I’m nervous enough walking around each day, let alone preparing to speak before a group of strangers.  Instead, I decided that since I was going to talk about a subject I know better than anything else—myself and my journey—I wouldn’t think about it at all, wouldn’t imagine all the ways I could stuttered and stammered my way to total embarrassment.  I told Joseph I’d love to.

Not being preoccupied on my little speech on Wednesday seemed to spur my active mind into attempting new things.  For the first time ever, I did my first load of laundry!  It’s probably ridiculous that a 27 year old man-child hadn’t ever washed his own clothes (especially when Mindy told me that her 10 year old son does his own laundry!), but the laundry room is the domain of my grandma, and she seems to like for me to be reliant on her as a way of feeling needed.  Well, Nana had been out of town visiting her sister, and at first it was alright because I had enough clean gym clothes.  Then Nana decided that she was going to stay a further four days, and I began to get nervous, trying to figure if I had sufficient outfits remaining in my dresser drawer, contemplating whether I could get by wearing once sweated-in clothes.  When Nana decided that she wasn’t coming home until after Christmas, the solution became starkly apparent: it was time to do it myself.

It doesn’t matter if it’s cooking a new recipe, building a desktop computer, or teaching oneself to launder one’s clothes, it takes so much longer to do things for the first time.  Mistakes are darn near guaranteed, techniques are yet to be developed.  I focused completely on not ruining the gym clothes I spent so much money amassing that I didn’t think about how much clothing constitutes one load of laundry.  I had figured out the right water temperature to not ruin my polyesters, but I smushed two weeks of dirty clothes into the washer.  At the end of the wash cycle the clothes were sopping wet (there were too many of them to spin the excess water out) and there was a soapy soup at the bottom of the tub.

Not knowing any better, that this was wrong, I flung the dripping articles into the dryer, and turned it on.  I walked away, coming back an hour later to a stopped machine.  Done, I thought, expecting to feel nice and warm freshly cleaned clothes, but reaching in and feeling the same sodden mess.  The newb figured out his mistake and halved the load, in the process at least doubling his time.  Yet at the end of a long afternoon, I returned upstairs with what had been a source of great angst, and instead of being tired I felt excited and liberated.  Liberated from having to rely on others for what I can do for myself.  And this feeling set off a chain of events that lead to a week of great progress…

The Five Seasons One Hundred

Reaching one hundred pounds of weight yesterday, and to record it on my trainer Laurie’s birthday, was such a special and wonderful feeling!  Laurie is so mature that she wished for me to set the big goal to coincide with her big day, something I wouldn’t want to have done, lest it overshadow my birthday.  But I’ve always admitted that my guide on the path to fitness is in all perceivable ways a better person that I, so I did my best to add to an amazing person’s day of celebration.

What a relief it was to stand on the scale and see the feedback of success; what palpable jubilation was returned when I sent the photo to Laurie!  Surely past the point of needing the validation of her abilities, she was just happy for me, happy that I had achieved what I had worked so hard for. 

I will analyze why I’m pleased about my weight loss in a post in the near future.  As I will myself to peck out a few lines with my pinch-nerved numbed left hand, battling a bit of the winter blues, I just want to ruminate on the genuine joy with which Laurie hailed me in person on her birthday.  

In Anticipation of a Milestone

It has been another great week on the diet and exercise front, and as I am on a good streak of really adhering to my meal plan, the weight is coming off at a steady clip.  Such a relief it is when you’ve tweaked upon the little change that pushes you off the proverbial plateau.  And whether you have done something intentional and are rightfully reaping the forward momentum, or it is your body deciding it’s ready to jettison weight, it’s wonderful when you feel yourself off that even ground and traveling downhill.

A large part of this latest momentum upswing might be a goal Laurie and I hit upon, a goal that I am within range of meeting and will, thusly, share with you.  For Laurie’s birthday, I want to be at or below 100 pounds for the year—278lbs by December 13!  I weighed in today at 280.4, and am ready to work out every day, twice a day through Friday to be able to text Laurie the goal accomplishing scale-shot on her big day. 

I felt a bit of trepidation in announcing a time sensitive goal for which I can empirically achieve or fail at, but I’m now at the place where I feel that putting goals out there sharpens my focus to eat as healthfully as I can, and fortifies my will to work out as hardily as possible.  Just one more good week separates me from success; if I continue in how I’m feeling tonight, I’ve got it! 

Thanksgiving

The holiday spirit of Thanksgiving helped to keep me warm as I waited for the start of my first Thanksgiving Day Race, sheltered from the wind by the Underground Railroad Freedom Center.  Surrounded by those responsible for bringing me this far—impossible far if I were to have contemplated it this time last year—I looked at the players, save a traveling Mindy, for whom I am deeply thankful for—Thomas Deere, COO of Five Seasons and a man of great encouragement to me; Joseph Pinnell, my friend and mentor; the lovely Laurie Lefton, for whom I’d leave my restful bed so work out with anytime; and Mark Rayburn, my brother in fitness.

 

Monsieurs Pinnell et Wright

Laurie and Rayburn quickly leapt ahead of us with the start of the race, establishing a fast pace that is a goal I hope to work towards.  Joseph—as always—had my back in racing by my side.  The first mile of the course was a straightaway, slightly uphill.  About half a mile in, the collective runners were past the din of the P.A. system yet not far enough to be huff-huffing out-of-breathe, and with a general, quiet focus, all one could hear was the amazing sound of 17,000 footfalls—an army of holidayers on a volunteered march.

I made it the whole stretch and some on the next turn without stopping, for which I was proud of.  Feeling fleet of foot and strong, I looked to my watch to see if I had set a new personal record and discovered that—forget any record—I hadn’t even set my watch.  Oh well!  The day was a celebration of the holiday and of how far I’ve come, and it was okay to dial back my efforts—okay even to walk.

It was something of a relief to be able to walk when I got tired of jogging, and then to just walk without worrying about making a record time.  I used the exercise to work on my marathon walking pace, and ended up dropping my average time from just under 14 minutes per mile at the Loveland Half Marathon to about twelve minutes and thirty seconds.  I think if I can get it to less than ten minutes per mile I just might have to try the full marathon at next year’s Flying Pig!

The course was wide and packed with families as we crossed from Downtown Cincinnati to Newport.  I had walked a shorter loop many times before with Joseph, but still thought that the bridge to Covington had brought us back to Cincinnati.  No worries, my year of conditioning left me with plenty in the tank!  And before I knew it we were back in the Nati and bearing down on the end.  Joseph suggested we run through the finish line, and I was game.  My mental enthusiasm wasn’t quite matched with my remaining physical endurance, but I do do do-da-do’ed the Rocky theme out loud and I made it on the run!

Such a wonderful event in the morning transferred into an awesome holiday spent with loved ones, and early the next day I found myself in a small exercise group with Laurie.  My appointment for the next hour fell through and I joined Laurie’s regular group training—the big leagues of Five Seasons workouts.  Though sore, I was able to do two straight hours of tough exercising after 6.2 miles the day before!  I am proud of that, and proud to say that I lost weight over the long feasting weekend!  It’s a great start to the month leading to Christmas/New Years—the final calendar test!  Let’s hope time slows down in this, my quickest year ever!

2014 W&S Thanksgiving Day Race Packet

A winter race packet, I’ve learned, is different than the packets of warm-weather races.  And it should be, because if the summer elements get to you on the event course, you can stop; cool down if you’re overheated; rehydrate if you’re carrying water; flag down a race volunteer if you’re desperate.  If you stop in freezing temperatures, you start dying!  Hypothermia, who has started the race behind you, is catching up and is poised to run you over like a freight train.  You’re liable to fall into a snow bank and then you’re really doneski.  You’re a new Ötzi the ice mummy and they’re not discovering you until spring thaw.

That may be a tad overstating it, but there are certain precautions one must take to stay safe and warm while exercising in the winter, and the Western & Southern Thanksgiving Day Race packet reflects the need to dress appropriately.   Included is a pair of blue knit gloves, with touch-screen fingertips, that will block the wind from blowing away body heat.

The long-sleeved technical shirt is, by far, my favorite of the year.  It’s 100% polyester and will lay soft and loose in between a base layer and a jacket.  The graphic, with its Thanksgiving colors and with Cincinnati’s skyline and iconic buildings, fits both the holiday and the race place perfectly.  It’s bold and beautiful and pops against the brownish-green that, despite its innate drabness, possesses a lovely sheen.

The bib is has a disposable timing chip adhered to the back, meaning that I won’t have to worry about losing it or failing to return it against penalty of a surcharge—more a relief than you might imagine and the way of the future.  The bib also has the race graphic on it, so it won’t be as big a deal when I cover the shirt logo with my race number.  Safety pins were out to grab at packet pickup, so if I’ve misplaced them between then and race day, it’s my own fault!

If the best packet I’ve gotten gets the fullest marks, this perfect packet is completed with a Pure Protein bar, a voucher for a free premium salad from McDonald’s, and the race instructions.  I’m so excited to start my Thanksgiving holiday with this special event and anticipate that it will be the first of an enduring tradition.  The 105^th running of the Thanksgiving Day Race will be my first but not my last!

The Proof Flowing Through My Veins

Yesterday was my 6 month follow-up with my family doctor, and it was nothing but good news and a great experience.  As soon as I walked through the door, the office girls exclaimed about how good I looked, how trim I was getting, and how much younger I appear.

When the nurse brought me back from the waiting room, she recorded my weight for the doctor’s records, something that, at over the 400 pound capacity, I was unable to do for years.  She took my blood pressure, quick and easily—without having to go and search out the bigger, obese-sized cuff—and once again it was even better than “normal” standard of 120/80 and way lower than they’d ever measured: 111/67!

For the third time that morning, I related to the nurse the key points in my journey thus far—how I work out and how often, the major changes in my new, healthy diet, and the events and races I’ve completed.  It’s become a bit of a stump speech, one that seems to hold people’s attention and elicits questions based on their own hurdles separating them from the healthier “way to be.”  But if this hard-headed reformer can do it, anyone ready for the lifestyle change can do it as well!

I feel confident in telling my story, having finally internalized that my hard work has resulted in the changes I see in the mirror, can feel in the fit of my clothes, and in the improvement in my emotions and energy.  To the individuals I talk to, I return nothing but positive, encouraging responses.  If I hear a silly, albeit heartfelt, excuse as to “why I can’t” or “why I can’t right now,” I offer my perspective based on my experiences.  Maybe when they’re ready to change they’ll remember the friendly, supportive, made-a-big-change Mark and won’t hesitate to reach out.

Most times they say that I’m an inspiration as a way of closing our conversation, to which I have to try my hardest not to cringe or refute in humble embarrassment.  My confidence hasn’t caught up to being able to accept that I have the ability to inspire others (or arouse, humor, etc., another; I’m a work-in-progress!), but as I sit here musing on it, I am glad that my example has the potential to inspire in such a healthy, life-expanding way!

By the time the headliner entered the examination room, I was talked out and ready to hear some good news.  My doctor told me how proud he was of me, and how well I looked.  Some people, he said, look ashy, devoid of color, or without zest, when they lose so much weight, yet I looked not only much thinner but much healthier.  He said that reclusion is embedded on the way you act, look, and talk, and on all three counts he could tell I was much better. Don’t go back in the basement! he joked (though I was a bedroom hermit, not a basement caveman, thank you very much, Doctor!).

Turning to my blood work results, he said that my cholesterol and sugar levels were perfect.  My vitamins were right where they needed to be, and that I must be getting out of doors because my Vitamin D was among the highest he’s seen all year!  Knowing what I am doing and what support network backs me, he bade me to keep up the good work and told me that I didn’t need to come back until well into the new year.

I knew what that meant, and when I told the scheduler, she knew as well: in coming back in six months instead of every month or quarter I had previously, the doctor is a lot less concerned about an ever-present, catastrophic threat to my health, that I truly am on the road to Wellville.  Reflecting on how they reacted, there was a great deal of relief among the office staff that has known me for so long and cares for and about my health.

Driving home, I compared how great I felt on this trip to how good I felt on one made about six years before.  I was sequestering myself in my room, emotionally broken and eating to fill the void.  My doctor could tell that I was depressed, and as I had been depressed for many appointments prior, put me on an anti-depressant.

I remember what mood-lightening relief I felt having the reason for my malaise—depression—and its solution—a prescription.  Over half a decade later, after changes in medication and a great deal of therapy, I lucked into winning the contest which prize contained the Answer.  The answer lies not in a pill but is found within you.  Consistent hard work, diet and exercise are the momentum-builders that get the freight train (Chugga-chuggah!) up to speed and will drive you to Providence.  Here’s to never slowing down!

Early Mornings, Early Nights

It’s unfortunate that when one has a lot of reportable things going on, one finds oneself without the time to record it…

In the latter part of an already busy week, Laurie invited me, half jokingly, to a 6 a.m. group training Thursday morning.  As I knew she was adding this in lieu of group training today, when Laurie is out-of-town—and since this year has been all about trying new things, and since the more time I get to hang out with Laurie, the happier I am—I committed to go.

Setting a new earliest alarm on my phone and arriving at the club before 6 a.m., I was carried by the excitement of the novel.  I also liked assuming the mantle of the super-dedicated—those who, while others are in bed, cut time from their sleep to add exercise to their schedules—these, the highly functional.  In order to be high functioning all the time, one must start being high functioning some of the time, and Thursday morning I was among the high functioning individuals.

Once I got going I was fine.  I took a cup of coffee to the exercise floor, and it soured my stomach; but the endorphins pumping in my early morning brain put me in a great mood for the day.  It’s much more heartening having the sun rise with your working out, rather than it setting, like during our Tuesday night groups.  It’s rather counter-intuitive, but when I exercise to begin the day, I have a more vivacious energy throughout the day.

I was nice and tired and ready for bed Thursday evening, which was perfect because, if I wanted to do everything I wished to do, I needed to start my day early Friday morning.  Putting my alarm-set smartphone away from my bed, there was no hitting the snooze button, as I was forced to get up and at ‘em.  I went to the hospital to get fasting blood work, ahead of a doctor’s appointment that I am sure will vindicate my healthy diet and clean living.  Eating a breakfast of cereal en route to the Club, I noticed how much more I was getting done by getting up early.

After a small group in my favorite class—kick boxing—I showered, dressed and was ready to do my tasks for the day.  It’s said that it takes two weeks of routine before a new habit sets in.  If I can continue to get up with a purpose early each morning and go to bed early, with no need for a nap in between, I will set forth a fruitful basic schedule that would serve me well in going for my goals.  Here’s to keeping it up! 

Five Seasons before 6--An representation of my bleary-eyed arrival