Strikes and Spares

If you've never had an issue with your weight it's likely you don't understand the mental ups and downs that come with an effort to drop major pounds.

And to be perfectly honest, I thought that aspect - the mental struggle - was rubbish.

I'd see people on television, or even come across them in public, who spoke with great emotion about the difficulties they were facing; about the feelings of failure that came with even one slip up, and how great was the temptation just to chuck it all and go back to that unhealthy lifestyle for good.

I can't tell you the number of times I wanted to grab one of those people by the collar, shake them violently, and yell "Get over yourself! If you want to lose weight, do it!"

All the while, mind you, I'm ignoring the fact that I'm slowly growing to the size of a small iceberg.

So to say I have a bit of a different perspective now would be something of an understatement. Those of you who have followed this blog for any length of time have seen me go through incredible highs and terrible lows - sometimes within the span of a week.

And many of you at one time or another have wanted to grab me by the neck and give me a good, hard shake.

Trust me. I've wanted to assault myself. And at times I have. There are times that pistol-whipping myself back in line has been effective.

But more often than not it's something smaller, significantly more subtle, that gets the message through my thick skull.

And last night was one of those moments.

Don't ask me how, but last evening my wife and I ended up "glow bowling" with a group of young people from our church. Glow bowling begins at midnight. They kill the house lights, get the disco ball and other such lighting fired up, and basically you bowl as much as you can until 2 a.m.

Flash back to about three years ago, which would be the last time I went bowling.

It was a disaster. We rolled three games, and by time it was done I could barely walk. I had zero stamina, my back and knees were killing me, and I got worse and worse as the day wore on.

It was embarrassing. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe and - worse - for someone who used to be extremely athletic and competitive, I was just awful.

I left the bowling alley that day both in pain and feeling sorry for myself.

So last night I wasn't sure what to expect. Besides the fact that it was so late (we old folks are used to getting in bed well before midnight), I just wasn't sure what that kind of physical activity would do to my body.

I was pleasantly surprised.

There were six of us confined to one lane, so we basically got 2 1/2 games in before the deadline. And I got stronger and better as the late night wore on.

Took me a while to get going. Couldn't find a consistent release point and I was horrible in the first game. But began to find something of a groove as the second game wore on, and ended up rolling a 143 despite the fact that I did get a strike the entire way. But I did pick up the spare in each of the last six frames.

It was during that stretch that I had my mini-epiphany.

It began to dawn on me that I was getting stronger as the frames rolled by. There was no pain, no shortness of breath. None of the things that made my last attempt at the game so horrible.

And best of all, to me anyway, my competitive juices started flowing again. One of the guys with us had blown all of us away in the first game, rolling something like a 170. And he jumped out to a pretty good start in the second game.

But as I hung around that old feeling came back. For the first time in a long time. I began to play mental games with him ("Hey man, don't think about all that open space to the left. You can get that single, lonely pin and pick up the spare"), and sure enough he started to think. And when he did, his game fell apart.

At the same time, mine was getting better and I came from about 30 pins down to beat him with the 143.

In the third game, I had gone 9/spare, 9/spare, 9/spare, 8/spare and 5/spare in the first five frames before we hit the time limit. Eleven straight frames over two games picking up the spare.

Folks, there was a time in my life when I bowled quite a bit. My high game is somewhere in the 190s. I'd never had a stretch like that in my life.

And trust me, the scores are irrelevant. I'm a horrible bowler, and I know it.

But it was the situation. The culmination of events. The fact that while all those young people - ages 17-24 - were wearing down at 2 a.m., I was getting stronger.

Seems like a little thing, but to me it was a bit of positive reinforcement that I've been sorely needing.

This morning I'm feeling better - mentally - than I have in weeks.

All it took was a good shaking.

Basics

Still here kids. Just taking some time to reorganize myself.

Intentionally stayed away from the scales today. I'm trying to focus more on the process and less on the results.

Over the last month I've slipped back into many of my old habits. I'd be good for a day, then bad for two. Over and over. And I've picked up about seven pounds, as my corrected scorecard detailed a few posts back.

I'm happy to say that I've made better decisions and, hopefully, progress in the last 4-5 days.

I took notice a while back that the diet I started has morphed into something totally different. So, the focus this week is getting back to basics.

What do I say?

One meal at a time, one day at a time.

Gotta quit just saying it and start living it again.

Traveling Man

Hello from Boston.

About 15 hours on the road today, dad in tow. And actually did very well in the food department.

I've had about three solid days in a row now, which is much better than I had been averaging over the last 3-4 weeks. If I could figure out why I go into these moods, and why I struggle so much with discipline, I'd be a rich man. But I'm sure everyone has the same issues.

I just hate taking steps backwards. And I hate how I feel when I fall off the wagon, even a little.

So, trying to be positive. Trying to be upbeat. Trying to keep things moving in the right direction.

In the morning dad and I are touring Fenway Park. Then it's the Clemson women's game at Boston College tomorrow night. Then on the road again toward home Saturday morning.

What's my mantra? One meal at a time. One day at a time.

Oh, incidentally, I didn't just skip the weigh-in yesterday. I was running late and didn't get to Clemson. Had to go directly to the studio.

We will cover it all next Wednesday.

Hopefully that will be good news.

Mathematical Error

Math has never been one of my strong suits. This morning I got a stunning reminder of that fact.

Getting on the scales last week something didn't quite seem right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Somehow the numbers weren't adding up.

So this morning I went back and started tracking previous posts and found the problem. In one of my last posts in December, I put the wrong number down on a weigh-in. It should have read 367, but I put down 377. Which caused me to operate off of that number in ensuing posts.

What does it mean?

Well, for starters it means that not only did I NOT hold serve for the three weeks over the holidays, I actually gained weight. Seven pounds, to be exact.

So the Year Two Scorecard actually should read like this:

Week 1 - Lost 3
Week 2 - No Weigh-In (Traveling)
Week 3 - No Weigh-In (Traveling and Holidays)
Week 4 - Gained 7 (Covers previous two weeks)

Pains me to write that, but facts are facts.

And the facts are that I've spent the better part of a month falling back into my old ways. And it's showing on the scales.

As you might imagine, this morning's revelation has been a smack in the face. However, I think it's a good thing.

It has brought home the fact - perhaps more clearly than ever - that I'm in a daily battle with this thing. And no amount of harping, yelling or supporting by anybody means a damn thing if I don't take care of myself.

I could be overly dramatic and say that I'm at a crossroads, or some nonsense like that.

But the fact is that for the last month I've simply been a slacker. And once the bad habits have crept back in, it's difficult to get back on the straight and narrow.

That's my focus.

That's my goal.

That needs to be my life.

Settling Back In

Trying to get back into a good groove again on the diet, with mixed results.

Actually, it hasn't been a bad week so far. One or two little hiccups here or there, but nothing overly extravagant. Much better than the previous three weeks, to be sure.

But still not perfect. And while I may never have the perfect week, my mindset should be to strive to come as close as I can. And I feel like I'm getting back to that way of thinking, the way I attacked this thing in the first few weeks after the switch.

The proof will be in the pudding, though. Or rather, in the lack of pudding - and any other type of non-Ultra Fit meal.

My next challenge is coming up later this week.

On Wednesday after my workout I'm leaving for West Virginia. After spending the night with my parents, my dad and I are taking off for Boston for a women's game on Friday.

So, that means trying to eat well on the road again for an extended number of days, something I failed miserably at over the holidays.

But, it's a new opportunity for success. Let's hope I can take advantage of it.

In the meantime, it's going to be good spending the time with my dad. He seems to be getting along pretty well, although he has pretty much stopped his weight loss attempts. He got up to about the 60-pound mark and stalled. He's probably put 10 or so of those pounds back on.

Still, he's in better shape than he was a year ago. And dieting aside, I'm just looking forward to the time together.

Having lived away from home for nearly 20 years now, I don't get these opportunities very often.

I plan to enjoy every minute of it.

Back On The Scales

Funny what just a few days back on the straight and narrow will do for you.

Hit the scales this morning, resuming my official Wednesday weigh-ins. And despite all the angst and emotion I put myself through the last three weeks, this morning I'm down three more pounds.

That's 115 total, and 58 since joining the Ultra Fit Plan. I've now lost more in 19 weeks on Ultra Fit than I did in just over nine months on my own.

Can't tell you how good it was to see that number this morning.

The Year Two Scorecard:

Week One - Lost 3
Week Two - No Weigh-In (Holidays/Traveling)
Week Three - No Weigh-In (Traveling)
Week Four - Lost 3

Confidence Boost

Maybe I'm doing better than I thought. Or maybe I'm just lucky.

In spite of myself, I dropped in on the scales over at Clemson this morning. I figured enough was enough. Let's see how much damage I've done in the last three weeks, deal with it, and move on.

Well, it turns out that I weighed exactly as much this morning as I did at my last official weigh-in.

Haven't gained a pound, in spite of eating the way I've been eating since before the New Year.

I fully expected to see a 4-5 pound gain. Instead, I've held serve.

Holding serve isn't good enough anymore, but I'd be lying if I said I was both relieved and encouraged.

So it's possible that by Wednesday I can be down a pound or two. We'll see.

Right now, I'm focusing on getting in a good Ultra Fit lunch and a solid workout today.

Checking In

I haven't gone away (much to the chagrin of many, I'm sure).

Just taking a break for a while. I didn't weigh in on Wednesday, but I'm happy to say I'm back on the proper nutrition plan.

I've just decided to take a couple of weeks away from the scales. I want to get my mind right again, focusing more on the proper eating habits.

As I'm sure you've noticed, when things go poorly I have a tendency to obsess. One bad meal becomes two. One bad day becomes two. And on and on.

A year-plus into the process I figured I'd have willpower the size of Gibraltar.

Instead, that part of the battle seems to be as tenuous as it was on Day One.

I guess that's why some say fighting a weight problem is akin to an alcohol or drug addiction. John even mentioned it in a reply to my last post. I never really believed that. In fact I thought people who said as much were being overly dramatic.

Shows what I know. Despite cracking triple digits in lost weight, I can't shake the habit of obsessing over each little setback. And with me, the obsession leads to bad decisions. And that leads to weight gain.

So, as mentioned I'm trying to refocus. Not worrying about the number of pounds for a couple of weeks, but paying more attention to the proper food intake and schedule.

It's worked so far. For the most part anyway. The last 2-3 days have been much, much better.

And so it goes. I've written it so often I should have it quick-keyed. But here it is again:

One meal at a time. One day at a time.

Ad infinitum.

Perspective

If I sat down and made a list of my enemies, I don't know how many there would be.

That's always a dangerous subject anyway, because you really never know who hates your guts. Most folks don't have the cajones to tell you. They hit and run, so to speak.

Anyway, that's not the point.

If I could make a list of my enemies, I may not know how many to write down. But I do know who would be at the very top.

Me.

I am my own worst enemy.

Not in the breaking the diet sense. In the self-inflicted stress sense.

Here's what I mean:

When I started the weight-loss process in late Dec. of 2007, I finally came to the realization that I wasn't in a race. I wasn't going to take off all the necessary pounds in just a matter of months, because it took over 20 years to get to that 479 mark I topped out at.

I finally accepted the fact that it was going to be a long process to get it off, and then a lifetime of work to keep it off.

There have been ups and downs along the way. The good weeks are an incredible high. The bad weeks - some of them anyway - have been terrible lows. But for the most part I've been able to stay on something of an even, albeit unsteady, keel.

So this holiday season comes along, and for the last 10 days or so I've not done well at all. In fact, I'll have gained weight when I hit the scales Wednesday morning for my first weigh-in in two weeks.

And as each slip-up accumulated into this bad stretch, I allowed myself to slip back into the "I'm failing, I'll always be fat" mindset. Spent a good deal of time feeling sorry for myself, to be honest with you.

But no more.

Today, while driving from Clemson to Titusville, Fla. (I have a game to broadcast in Miami tomorrow), I had a long time to mentally hash things out in my head. It was quite the battle, me vs. my psyche.

But about three-quarters of the way through the trip - as corny as this sounds - I felt a sudden peace come over me. And within that peace, I determined that I wasn't going to mentally whip myself anymore.

I'm not in a race. I'm not on anyones time schedule but my own.

Yes, I know John and Vernon want the weight to come off me as quickly as possible. And yes, I know the closer I stick to the Ultra Fit program the better, more rapid success I have.

I also know they both read this blog, and guys, I promise you. I'm there with you. I want the weight off, and I'm going to see the program through, and I'm going to make you proud and be another shining example of your success.

But what I'm not going to do is kick myself all over the East Coast because I've had a bad stretch.

Beginning right now, it goes in the books for what it is. Black and white. Nothing more.

If I take eight more months to get the rest of the weight off instead of six, or even a year, so be it.

What's a couple of extra months compared to the rest of my life?

Now understand, I'm fully intending to get back on the straight and narrow and get this done based on the proven Ultra Fit timetable.

The point of this whole manifesto is simply this:

I'm finished beating up myself mentally over every bad meal or bad day.

If I screw up, I'll acknowledge it, get right back up on the proverbial horse, and take off again.

I keep reminding myself, just like others have reminded me in recent days, that I've done a hell of a lot of good in the first year.

Sometimes those accomplishments get obscured in the heat of the moment. And trust me, I'm still big enough to cast a shadow large enough to obscure pretty much anything.

But not where I've come from, and where I want to go.

Those destinations are more clear than ever today.