Big Man Getting Smaller 2.0

Weekly weigh-in, Julie and Julia, and more

2009-08-24T15:22:00.006-04:00

Oh dear.

Where I have been?

Living my life. Swimming. Eating 2500 calories a day. Falling in love. Working on the blogs that I must work on because they have hundreds of paid subscribers who will throw me to the curb if I do a disappearing act.

And I can barely pop my head in here even today after 10 days away, so I know that I am being accountable onlyt to myself, but hey, that's something, isn't it.

So, first and foremost, you like apples? Good. How do you like these apples?

I like 'em a lot. This is the best, most gradual and sustained, that I could have hoped for. 25+ pounds since January and 13.4 pounds since I started swimming in mid-May. On track for 225 by my pal's birthday and the end of the year! Way to go! (Question: I know there's some state that still has a law on the books about how many yards of clothing a woman must wear lest she face arrest, but how much gift wrap would I need?)

I swam 3 days last week and felt great, but now the pool is closed for 3 weeks for its annual repairs. Not to worry. Thanks to Annie (Danny's mom and the best ex any guy could have), I have a one-week pass to the pool at the Waltham Y. I'll think about after that after that.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking about Julie Powell. And, of course, Julia Child.

My pal and I saw the movie yesterday. There was lots of butter. I wanted to stop for dinner afterward at Chez Henri. This morning I placed an order for Mastering the Art of French Cooking (as did, apparently, about a gazillion other people, since Amazon has now sold out clear into the Fall). So BMGS may be headed for hell in a handbasket.

But I feel some kinship with Julie. As a personal blogger on a mission, I love her story, and I love the way it has been turning out for her over the past six years.

I'm going to spend some time looking at her original blog and her current efforts over the next few days. And I'll be back.

Viva la difference: Messing with perfection

2009-08-13T15:43:00.014-04:00

I've lost 24 pounds since the first of the year, and 12 of them at a very consistent pound-a-week since the middle of May when I took out a new membership at the pool and started swimming several times a week. My progress has all been based on the accountability that comes with posting regularly here at BMGS 2.0 and acting reasonably on the knowledge that I will lose a pound a week if I limit my calories to 2500 a day or fewer and get regular exercise. This is not rocket science.

But I suppose it has made an impression on my pal, and in the past couple of days she has kind of asked me if I would help her do the math so that she could get on track herself and maybe drop a pound or two by the time she celebrates what some might consider a big birthday in late December. Although I am not one to mess with perfection, I have agreed to help.

She is 5'8", and that is all you need to know. Although I have recorded other data in the table that follows, I am a wise man who understands the value of the little Google Docs gizmo that blacks out certain fields. If it worked for Bush and Cheney, it can work for me. Some information is best handled on a need-to-know basis.

As you can see from the table, life is not fair or gender-blind when it comes to the arithmetic of weight loss:

My pal's exercise program involves:

a) a combination of walking and running for 30 to 60 minutes on the bike trail near our home,
b) the 8-minutes-a-day workout program with weights, and
c) situps
c) some yoga.

Based on her numbers, my take is that, if she does (a) and (b) 4 times a week each and does (c) and (d) once a week, her BMR based on the "moderately active" calculation would be 2087 calories a day, or 14,609 calories a week. That is the rate of calorie intake that would keep her weight at its current level. In order to lose a pound a week, she would have to consume 3,500 calories less than 14,609 each week. In other words, her target rate for daily calorie intake is 1,587 calories.

Now that I am finished with the considerable exercise involved in moving and I am back to swimming with an occasional day of walking and jogging, my exercise program involves:

a) swimming laps for 60 to 90 minutes without resting;
b) walking and slow jogging for 20 minutes; and
c) crunches, pushups, or weights.

Based on my numbers, if I do (a) three times a week and (b) and (c) once a week each, my BMR based on the "moderately active" calculation would be 3227 calories a day, or 22,589 calories a week. That is the rate of calorie intake that would keep my weight at its current level. In order to lose a pound a week, I have to consume 3,500 calories less than 22,589each week. In other words, my target rate for daily calorie intake is 2,727 calories.

It isn't fair that I can lose weight just as quickly as my pal while I consume 1,140 more calories a day, or about 8,000 more calories a week, but, well, viva la difference!

Sources: BMR Calculator, BMR Calculator 2, Harris Benedict Equation Calculator.

Afterword: In my 12-step program, this draft post would be called 12th-stepping. But whether I post it will depend, of course, on whether my pal feels her anonymity is protected.

Weekly Weigh-In: There's More Than One Way to Get My Exercise

2009-08-12T21:00:00.005-04:00

The past few weeks have featured an interesting kind of triage in my life:

* I finished moving into my new home and office in Arlington. I suppose moving is always an ordeal, and this took dozens of hours and a lot of hard work, but I am done and it feels wonderful.
* I completed work on a major effort to resolve a very specific financial situation that was threatening to be challenging for a long time without resolution.
* I finished several weeks of hard work on my most recent book and published it -- FREE: How to Get Millions of Free Books, Songs, Podcasts, Periodicals And Free eMail, Facebook, Twitter and Wireless Web With Your Amazon Kindle -- and it is doing great as you can see from this screen shot:
So, long story short, the past 10 days were crunch time and I didn't get much formal exercise into my days. This is not something I can afford to do very often, but the reality over the past few weeks was that I was getting a lot of everyday exercise because of my move, and I was also making a point of eating healthy.

So I am happy to be back here, posting an entry after getting back in the pool for a half-mile (36 laps) swim tonight, flipping back and forth between a couple of pretty good ballgames:

here in Boston Josh Beckett is one-hitting the Tigers through six on the way to his 14th victory with Jason Bay and Mike Lowell providing all the needed offense by going 5-for-5 between them with two doubles, two home runs, and four RBI; and
over in Chicago a future Hall of Famer named Pedro Martinez (5' 10" and 175 pounds) has fanned four in three innings and leads the Cubs 4-1 in his first appearance of 2009.

And just as happy to report that I did my weekly weigh-in yesterday and I am almost a full pound ahead of schedule at 245.2, down over a pound from last week:

I'll be back soon.

Weighing in after a way too busy week

2009-08-03T14:13:00.004-04:00

There have been some great weeks in my life -- and most of them have in one way or another involved my three children and my grandson -- but this past week, in spite of the fact that moving is much more of a challenge than it was when I was younger, has been a thoroughly wonderful week. Perhaps at some point I'll have more to say here about my pal, but it's good to maintain some privacy here for all concerned, so I will just say, again, this has been a wonderful week and I am very grateful for the blessings in my life.

What with moving, finishing another book, and several other serious challenges, I will have to acknowledge that most of the exercise I have gotten the past 10 days has been moving related. But I did get to the pool twice last week for, each time, a nonstop mile of swimming. And I have been eating healthy and moderately, and when I stepped on the scale this morning for my weekly weigh-in I liked the reading: 246.6, down almost 2 pounds from my last weigh-in 10 days ago.

There's no time to say more, now, except Thank You, Great Spirits.

A good man - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Saturday, November 24, 2007

2009-07-28T09:54:00.005-04:00

Stephen Windwalker is staying balanced in spite of all: moving Friday, writing the best stuff I have done yet on the Kindle, swam a mile last night, eating healthy, spending great time with friends family and VG friends, making some decent biz/financial decisions, and even caught the last three innings of the Sox' win last night -- all is well, and I am putting Kindle Nation back to Thursdays

about an hour ago ·

Spt Foxboro Tom Sheehan

You are putting out such a positive vibration and getting it back in return - tenfold!

The post below is about my -- it seems, now -- lifelong pal and comrade, Stewart Acuff. We've been together through thick and thin and love each other like brothers. In my most recent telephone conversation with Stewart, on Saturday evening, we caught up for an hour about life, work, getting old but staying young, love, lust, and hard times. He was back in Little Rock where we first met, but this time calling me from the Little Rock Airport after spending some time trying to crowbar Arkansas' moderate Dem senators into line on card check, an issue of importance to him, me, the labor movement, and all of us if we have any sense at all. Great conversation, and I'd love to go on, but as is clear from my Facebook status line above, it will have to wait a spell.

A good man - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Saturday, November 24, 2007

I first met Stewart Acuff in a friend's backyard in Little Rock on the 4th of July in 1978. Stewart was 22 and had just graduated from a little Baptist college across the state of Missouri from where he grew up. He was coming to work for me as a community organizer-trainee in Texas that week.

I invited Stewart to grab a plate of picnic food and sit down on the grass and chat. We hit it off from the start, but he asked me if I could let him off from his prior commitment to start that week so he could go back home for a week to honor a commitment he apparently had made to his father, a Baptist preacher, to go home and teach Sunday School one last time.

I'm sure Stewart expected me to be okay with that. After all, who could stand in the way of a young man teaching Sunday School one last time, let alone honoring his commitment to his Dad?

I could. Problem was, I didn't know his father and mother. (Eventually I got to know them both a little. Once that happened it was clear to me how Stewart had turned out to be such a good person and a great friend.) It wasn't easy back then to hire and train talented organizers. I was a little concerned that if he went home for another week to his Mom and Dad and told them again how he was about to run off to a faraway state and help poor people get organized to fight the power for a salary of $4,000 a year, he would never make it to Texas. Mom and Dad might talk some sense into him.

I didn't tell him flat-out "No." Instead I appealed to his obvious spirituality and said something about the commitment he had made to come to organizing being something between him and God, that I had no personal power to let him out of. I said it without stuttering. He came to Texas without going back home.

We've been the best of friends pretty much ever since. Every day with the work he does he makes me proud. He spent some good time training with me as an organizer in Texas, and then he came to work with me again years later when I running something called the New Hampshire People's Alliance. Later he went into union organizing and is now the National Director of Field Organizing for the AFL-CIO.

As long as I continued to do organizing work, he always made me better at what I did. We also have shared a lot with each other about the trials and tribulations we each have faced trying to balance the desire to live a good life as a man with the frailties and challenges that being a man has thrown in each of our paths.

Along the way, as you can see from a video or two here, he's never gotten too far away from teaching Sunday School.

Keep up the preachin' and the teachin', Stewart.

After Thanksgiving Soundtrack

Bob Dylan - It's All Over Now, Baby Blue

Shawn Colvin - Sunny Came Home

Bonus track

I just got a great email from my friend Ned, who responded to some recent entries and specifically to the Elvis cover of Eddy Arnold's "I Really Don't Want to Know" by sending me a wonderful, rich essay he wrote recently on The King. I can't wait until I finish my current (tardy) copywriting assignment so I can spend the time with it that it deserves, probably tomorrow evening. Meanwhile, back at you, Ned, here is my favorite Elvis song, not "Don't Be Cruel" but just "Don't," which I never noticed back in the day but discovered 15 years ago on a 20 #1 hits compilation. It's such a rich and vulnerable song. (It is also covered wonderfully and breathlessly by Bernadette Peters, although the only track I ever found of that cover was on an LP of hers).

I also have to thank Ned for this. In his email he mentioned, and correctly remembered the title of "The Book of Ezra," my quirky but unfinished novel from sophomore year. Now that is a friend. Thanks, buddy. I love you for that.

PS - I just discovered the Bernadette Peters cover in my collection of purchased iTunes songs, so I am happy to report you can get it from Mr. Jobs for less than a buck.

Sunday Morning Soundtrack

Hot damn! Went off my diet for 5 days and lost another half a pound anyway! It strikes me that maybe I am actually making some fundamental changes in how I eat. This is a good thing. Plus I had 2 great workouts and a really nice long walk around Jamaica Pond and all over JP with my daughter Kip.

So, I Take Five days off, and here's our soundtrack, of course.

1 comments:

Anonymous said...: he's my uncle yayayayay!!!!!!!!!!i love him so much he is a great guy!!!!!; November 27, 2007 4:41 PM

Balance and another weekly weigh-in

2009-07-23T08:12:00.006-04:00

Lots going on here in the land of BMGS:

a wonderful visit with Zach and Mary who came for blueberry pancakes and years of catching up on my pal's deck Tuesday morning,
preparing to move home and office the end of next week,
a mile in the pool last night,
nibbles from a traditional publisher on my Worried Citizen financial crisis book,
some serious work (and expenditure) to arrange my own financial life more beneficially for all concerned for the long haul,
daily life, which never lets up, and
Leonard Cohen reciting the sound and textual track of my life in the background.

Balance is not always at the top of my list in such times, but it should be, because it makes everything else possible.

And so, three days late, I have administered my weekly weigh-in, down from 249.2 to 248.4 in the 10 days since my last weigh-in, moving in the right direction even if I am 6 ounces behind schedule, and firm, at the very least, in my resolve to continue the BMGS 2.0 campaign's regimen of several days a week of swimming or other exercise and 2500 or fewer calories a day.

Don't you wish everybody did? - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Nov. 19, 2007

2009-07-22T16:36:00.002-04:00

(Please accept my apologies for having gone six days without a post here -- I am in the process of preparing to move at the end of next week, and it is a bit of a curve ball for my routines, but, well, I've been swinging a bat long enough that I ought to be able to hit Uncle Charlie by now. I'm off to the pool in a moment with a resolve to do better here).

Don't you wish everybody did?

One of my best friends wrote me an email last night, and I just called him and asked if I could quote him. He said I could.

"I am totally envious of what you're accomplishing--both with the weight loss and the blog," Larry wrote. "I don't know how you have time to write it. I am getting more and more afraid to write stuff down, and I can't actually figure out why. I can't write anything, and I mean anything. I wrote 2 pages for Randy's daughters after he died, but that was the first time in a long while. I used to do it fairly often, but just can seem to now."

I think there were about 20 years when I was afraid to write things down myself. I could write memoranda, speeches, press releases, and organizing plans, but nothing personal. And that was for a guy, me, who self-identified as a writer. I had written hundreds of pages of fiction in college, been the fiction editor of the college literary magazine, and studied with Kurt Vonnegut, Robert Lowell, and the best writing teacher at Harvard, a guy named Monroe Engel.

But I swore it off for 20 years. I thought it was because I was committed to doing organizing work instead, but there were other weird things going on. Part of it was that I was afraid if I started writing I wouldn't stop, and I was afraid I would never get anything else done. Part of it was that I had unconsciously tried to conform myself into a certain person to make my first marriage work, and either writing did not fit with that or maybe I feared that if I wrote down too much it would expose me as a fraud to myself. Part of it was that I probably resented the idea that anyone else, ever, might judge what I wrote. I am reasonably arrogant, after all.

It was all pretty weird, but it's not like I understood any of that then.

The bottom line is that I paid a heavy price for not writing, and for not writing things down, and without ever intending it this way I extracted a heavy price from others. I'm not really prepared to go into detail about all that just now, but the point is that when we are meant to do something, we damned well better do it, or eventually there will be hell to pay.

So, understanding myself a little bit more now than I did then, I can observe this: that I am afraid not to write things down.

In the past 8 years I've published four books and written several others that are in various states of readiness for publication. Some are better than others. I've written hundreds of pages of "web content" to keep soup in the cupboard.

But it has been very good for me, these past 80 days, to have this blog. It never takes me more than an hour a day between writing my posts and posting my music and tweaking this or that. It provides me with a fairly informal way of writing regularly somewhere near the "spine" of my life, of my personal story, although quite frequently it is only after I have written it that I can relate it much to my life. It keeps me relatively honest and, of course, it keeps me accountable to a very specific goal, which is to whip my ass into a little better shape than I have been in lo these many years. It is just one thing, but this one thing is working.

It helps, a lot, that writing per se does not intimidate me the way it intimidates a lot of people. Larry is a mensch, and an extremely interesting and creative guy, so it is hard for me to see that writing things down should be intimidating to him, or to understand why he might feel, as he says, "afraid to write things down." But given how weird and mystifying my own agraphia was, I shouldn't necessarily expect to understand anyone else's, should I?

Blogging makes my life much more livable. It helps me make myself who I want to be, not that I always succeed. It has helped me drop a little over 35 pounds, although I am a little displeased that I cannot yet run a 6-minute mile the way I could in 1996, let alone a 4:38 mile the way I could in 1968. It will lead me to do a fair amount of other writing, and some of that may add chowder to the soup in the cupboard.

I recommend it. It is easier than people think. I honestly believe that if more people wrote things down about their lives, the world would be a more civilized place.

It makes me think of those old commercials for Dial soap:

"Aren't you glad you blog? Don't you wish everybody did?"

I know what you are thinking. Who would read it all, right?

That's where the music would come in:

Weekend soundtrack

Here's a favorite of mine

Alison Krauss & John Waite - Missing You

Monday morning soundtrack

How about a real get to work song for a Monday morning?

Because you don't want to end up like Bonnie and Clyde, right?

Desmond Dekker - The Israelites

Tuesday's Soundtrack

My father was born in Rome, Georgia in 1927. He quit school in the 8th grade and joined the Navy with a fake birth certificate when he was 15. He always kept quiet about being a Cherokee Indian because it was something to hide growing up in Georgia in the 30s. He met my mother at a USO dance when he was 18 and she was 21 and she quit college to marry him. It didn't pan out. He lived in a campsite near the beach on the Big Island north of Kona the last 15 years of his life, until cigarettes killed him in 1986. Here's one of his favorite songs.

Wednesday's soundtrack

My daughter Moriah's first Thanksgiving was on Douglass St. in the Lower Ninth Ward in 1978. Meg and I had moved there from Dallas a few months earlier, and I had just come back to ACORN after a few months away. I was driving the I-10 across the bayous several days a week to do an organizing drive in Lake Charles, while trying to help one of my staff organizers, Lia Lent, get a campaign started targeting the Corps of Engineers concerning the safety of the levees. Randy Newman's Good Old Boys LP was pretty fresh at the time and I played it so much that it's a little surprising that Moriah's first words weren't about "a little fat man with a notepad in his hand." Her first solid food came on Thanksgiving afternoon when I slipped her a little piece of turkey. She's always been a meat and potatoes girl.

Thanksgiving Day Soundtrack

Happy Thanksgiving, friends, loved ones, and countrymen.

1 comments:

thoughtz said...: I write like I breathe. I cannot not write. Once when working in a factory, I figured out how to get the piece work done qhickly so as to give me a 10 minute breadk each hour... I would go into the ladies room and write poetry. This kept me from going bananas!
I wonder what your friend would write if he wrote on a piece of paper, which he would burn when done, how the thought of writing things down makes him feel? No one would ever read it and it might give him some interesting internal insights.
Donna; November 19, 2007 3:02 PM

Night Swimming

2009-07-16T20:13:00.004-04:00

I returned about an hour ago from a great swim in the pool. Another 108 laps, or 1.5 miles, which replicates what I did on Tuesday and has kind of transformed my "long" days into something that I can repeat 2 or 3 times a week.

Both Tuesday and today I was in the pool for an hour and 40 minutes and did the 108 laps nonstop without any break. Back in my running days, running for that long a time, on the clock, was close enough to a "long run" that I certainly was not doing anything that long more than once a week. That amount of time on the clock meant a run of 10-12 miles at my leisurely pace, and that was as much as I did except in the final weeks of training for a marathon, when I trained properly as I did in '78, '93, and '94.

So the astonishing thing, at least to me, is that I have been able in a little less than two months (since I first jumped into the pool on May 19) to build up my conditioning as a swimmer to the point where I can sustain a workout of one hour and 40 minutes without a break.

I just looked up the relative calorie counts of swimming and running and they are pretty close: I am probably burning off a little over 1200 calories during a 1.5 mile swim, or about 120 calories per 10 minutes. If I run for an hour and 40 minutes I will burn off 1500 calories, but the problem is that I will also be on crutches in the morning.

During my best workouts on a treadmill or elliptical machine over the past few years, I might have approached burning off 1,000 calories, but not often.

So this swimming thing is working for me.

Don't get me wrong. It wears me out, even when Marilyn is not there, and I sleep like a baby. But it doesn't beat me up, so the result is that I can do these long swims a few times a week, and get into better and better shape.

For each set of three 1.5 mile swimming workouts I do, that's 3,600 calories. And 3,500 calories equals one pound of body weight, gained or lost, for us humans.

I can do the math, and I'll keep coming.

!Viva la Huelga! - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Saturday, November 17, 2007

2009-07-16T09:42:00.002-04:00

All is well with the BMGS 2.0 on Thursday, July 16, 2009. Intriguing developments the past couple of days involving my book on the financial crisis, but I will keep it close to the vest unless and until there is something more to say. And meanwhile I'll keep working, connecting with the people in my life, swimming, and trying to get the water out of my ears afterward.

!Viva la Huelga!

When I created this blog a little under three months ago I checked a box that allows Google to place ads on the blog. At some point in the future this may lead to my depositing a check for $14, or whatever, in my bank account, although I am embarrassed to say that I may have screwed up somewhere so that this will never happen. The reason I think this may be true is that I can't access my account, and Google does not seem to want to help me access it.

This doesn't seem important to me now, and I am disinclined to think that it is part of a vast conspiracy in which, if I were smart enough to unravel it, Google might be exposed as violating its corporate motto, "Don't be evil." The primary impact that the Google ads have on my life and on my blog, for now, is that they serve as an indicator when I veer off-topic, as you already know I am wont to do. The Google ads are robotically engineered to be associated with the content of whatever site they land on. The idea, of course, is that if this blog is a blog about losing weight and getting smaller, people who read it may be interested in clicking on Google ad links for sites about calorie-counting, losing 50 pounds in 20 minutes, and so forth. This kind of engineering is working pretty well for Google.

For me, I notice from time to time that Google ads turn up here on different topics, such as country music ring tones. That's okay. I'll be surprised if those ads are paying off, but what do I know? Sometimes there are ads about services for bloggers, and sometimes for other things that seem further afield. I pay desultory attention to these trends, and occasionally let them spur me to get back to the original topic at hand.

Today I am going further off topic than usual.

As anyone can clearly tell from the volume, if not the quality, of my entries here, I am a writer. (You might have concluded that perhaps I am a "frustrated writer," and if so, I sort of forgive you, but the truth is that I am the real thing, inasmuch, at least, as I make most of my living by writing.) I am even a member of a labor union for writers, although it is a little past time for me to send in my 2007-2008 dues. The union is called the National Writer's Union, which is also at-large Local 1981 of the United Auto Workers, and is thereby affiliated with the AFL-CIO.

I am proud of this. I don't wear a hard hat to work. I don't punch a clock. I contract individually with companies for much of my writing work. I own the company that provides most of my writing income. So this does not feel much like In Dubious Battle. I don't sit down at the computer each morning and yell "!Viva la Huelga!" at the top of my lungs.

My union is not the same union that represents the writers out in Hollywood, the Writer's Guild of America. (They're actually all over, not just in Hollywood). It's a different union, but it is all one struggle. The major issue facing both unions is getting fair payment for all the commercial uses of the work that writers do, including all the kinds of "new media" that have come along in the past few decades.

The fragmentation of everyday life and commerce in this era makes it very easy for writers and others, even those of us who are just scraping by, to resist seeing our connection with the wider struggles of other writers and other workers. It's so easy to say, "I can fend for myself." It often seems to be true, for a while, at least.

But we are all in this together, in so many ways, even if we don't see it sometimes. An injury to one is an injury to all, and what goes around comes around.

It's time for me to renew my membership in the National Writer's Union. I'm not by my nature a joiner, but the fact is that I benefit every day from the work that my union and other unions have done to get fair payment for writers and other workers. I hope and believe that both the Writer's Guild and the National Writer's Union will win important gains on this current "new media" issue, and that I will benefit from these gains throughout the rest of my life as a writer.

Maybe someday they will even help me figure out how to get paid properly by Google, although I really believe I ought to be able to fend for myself on that one.

I'm not going to preach about the strike issues here. I'll just thank Ned and Nick for sharing these links with me, and pass them on. That's all that organizing is, really, just passing it on.

And oh, by the way, "!Viva la Huelga!"

Dreaming a life - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Wednesday, November 14, 2007

2009-07-15T08:59:00.005-04:00

A quick update at the start of a busy day this morning, July 15, 2009:

A wonderful day at the pool yesterday, swimming 1.5 miles (108 laps, 100 minutes) without so much as a five-second rest along the way.
Coming out of the pool with a brain full of endorphins, singing "That's No Way to Say Goodbye" in the shower without embarrassment and another 50-something comes up to me and asks if I caught Leonard when he played here a few weeks back, no, but leading to a fun conversation about Cohen, whom I saw for the first time in '66 or '67 at the Melody Tent, playing the piano for Judy.
A bit of a difficult evening with my pal which ended up in our feeling even more connected, which is all one can hope for.
A nice and unexpected email and telephone conversation with an old friend, opening the door to some nice, if optimistic, visions of ways in which much of the hard work I have been doing these past few years might lead to pleasant and appropriate rewards.

Dreaming a life

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Wednesday, November 14, 2007

35 pounds today. Another multiple of 5, and some real progress the last few days after slogging for a while.

When I was a distance runner in high school, we had the toughest, hilliest course in New England. I don't know if I succeeded or not, sometimes I did, but I tried to be a mudder, the type of guy who embraced the conditions whatever they were. The last couple weeks of the season we had some snow, a sub-freezing race or two, some mud. I had imagined myself a mudder, and I had my best races then.

So I slog on. I won't say a lot more today, but I'll listen to this music, "Dreaming a Life" by Native American flutist Carlos Nakai. Listen. In a small way it is what I am trying to do here, a struggle of positive self-invention.

Wednesday's Soundtrack

Some nice Zim footage from "The Last Waltz." I had so many thoughtful emails after yesterday's post. Thank you.

Thursday's Soundtrack

When I look into your eyes
I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain
We've been through this such a long long time
Just tryin' to kill the pain
But lovers always come and lovers always go
An no one's really sure who's lettin' go today
Walking away

Guns 'n' Roses - November Rain

Friday's Soundtrack

Some of my favorite bubble gum music.... covered with an edge in the first instance.

Joan Jett and the Blackhearts covering Tommy James' & the Shondells "Crimson and Clover"

"Friday" by The Cure

"Hang on Sloopy" by The McCoys -- there was a time in 60s pop when love always trumped class warfare, and I'm embarrassed to say I believed it, whether it was "Sloopy," "Patches," or "Rag Doll"

"Silence is Golden" by The Tremeloes, who must have thought they were showing up to audition for roles in "The Full Monty"

Unspeakable sadnesses - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - Tuesday, November 13, 2007

2009-07-14T13:00:00.006-04:00

Update, July 14, 2009: Another busy day, but I noticed something especially nice when I was in the kitchen this morning brewing my second cup. For no particular reason I raised my right knee so that my thighs were parallel to the kitchen floor. Then I lowered it and did the same with my left knee.

No big deal, right?

Except that it is a big deal, to me. Both movements were effortless, with no propping myself up, no effort, no nuthin.

I may still be a long way from joining my pal at her weekly yoga class, but this little experience in my kitchen this morning demonstrates a level of flexibility that, frankly, I have not experienced in years. I don't know if it comes from losing 20 pounds or from all the swimming. Probably both. In any case, I will take it gladly, and keep at the regimen.

Big Man Getting Flexible! Yeah!

Unspeakable sadnesses

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 - Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Jeesh, is this what being in my late 50s is going to be like?

Yesterday I learned that a good friend from high school, Chris Kennedy, died of prostate cancer over the weekend.

A week ago, Randy Barnett died of a heart attack in his sleep at the age of 56. He and I knew each other only by telephone, where we had co-managed a fantasy baseball team years ago, but he was one of the best friends of one of my best friends, Larry Ginsburg.

They were both good and decent men, and they will both be missed. They both lived full and satisfying lives, but lives that were way too short.

When I was 14 I worked as a dishwasher at LaRochelle's Restaurant in East Sandwich, and my first real life mentor was the cook, Nick. He was a wise and interesting man who had been an actor until he was blacklisted and lost that career. He was, then, about my age now or a little bit older, and during his break every day he would sit at a table in the kitchen and read the obituaries. "Just keeping up with old friends," he would tell me.

I lost track of Nick, but I am starting to understand what he was doing on his break.

There's not a lot you can do, I suppose. When it's your time, it's your time. Randy smoked cigarettes, but otherwise he was in great shape, an athlete.

But we keep doing what we can. About 18 months ago, during a routine physical, I had a blood test come back that showed me at the bottom edge of the gray area for a heightened risk for, and possibility of, prostate cancer. I had follow-up exams that were inconclusive, and decided against a biopsy. Instead, after talking at length with three doctors, I decided on an approach that had the additional felicity of being called "watchful waiting."

I did more than wait. I read extensively in Phyllis Balch's Nutritional Healing book, cut way back on red meat and other problematic foods and began getting a lot of lycopene, fish oil and flaxseed oil into my diet. My numbers gradually moved back from the risky "gray area" to the safe area, and have stayed there as I have watched them since.

Yesterday I heard about a new study demonstrating a linkage between obesity and prostate cancer, so there's one more addition to the many reasons for the Big Man to Get Smaller.

Both my parents died in their 50s, but I expect, perhaps without supporting evidence, to live much longer. I don't think there is any real point in trying to organize one's entire life around the desire to live longer. I probably wouldn't be much good at it anyway. I want to live a long time, but even more than that I want to enjoy better health during whatever days I have left. Inner and outer health, I believe, are major keys to happiness.

When Larry came up for Randy's memorial we made plans to have breakfast. Then like an idiot I let work deadlines get ahead of me and I had to cancel at the last minute, which was a real failure to prioritize what is important.

It isn't easy to balance everything. There are so many things one must do to live a healthy life, inner and outer. It seems like there are a lot more of them than there used to be. There's work, family responsibilities, the laundry, and the daily administrative details like paying one's bills, getting to the bank, picking up groceries.

Now, in addition to all these other things, I have to add reading the obituaries. And mourning guys who were only 56 or 57.

But I am not complaining. Not even whining. I'm still here, grateful to be here, and daily more mindful that there is richness and soulfulness and even, sometimes, a path to joy, or a fleeting instant of possible awareness, in the unspeakable sadnesses of everyday life.

****************************

Support the Writer's Guild Strikers

I've mentioned my friend Steve Peterman here before. Like a lot of other great people and great writers, he's on strike right now with the Writer's Guild of America. The central issue in the strike is simple and obvious. They should get a fair portion of the revenue that comes from so-called "new media" like websites, etc., based on the shows they write. Steve is one of the major creative forces behind one of my son's favorite shows, Hannah Montana. My son is constantly checking out Hannah Montana content on the web, so I have seen firsthand the natural connection between one kind of media and the other. Here are some links that Steve's and my mutual friend Ned passed on to me if you would like to know more about the writers' strike.

I thought some of you might be interested in sources of information about the Writers Guild of America (WGA) strike. Here are some links:

A petition of support:

http://www.PetitionOnline.com/WGA/petition.html

A short presentation outlining the essential issues:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oJ55Ir2jCxk

On-going LA Times coverage of the strike:

http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/showtracker/2007/11/strike-news-o-s.html

UnitedHollywood.com blog:

http://unitedhollywood.blogspot.com/

WGA, West Home Page:

http://www.wga.org/index.aspx

Steve also suggests this a site for good coverage of the strike developments:

For the best coverage of both sides people out here are going to Nikki Finke of LA Weekly. Her blog is deadlinehollywooddaily.com

***************

Two songs today, both written by heroes of mine. This first one would be a perfect fit for today's post even if Harry Chapin had not died at the age of 38 in the Summer of '81.

The other song was written by a great man named Si Kahn, an organizing mentor and colleague to me and many others as well as a terrific singer-songwriter and author. It's covered by Michael Johnathon.

Back in the pool, and 3 ounces behind schedule

2009-07-13T19:58:00.004-04:00

I got hit by some little viral bug last week -- it didn't hit me nearly as hard as it hit Danny and his Mom, but knocked me back enough that I knew I had better stay out of the pool and conserve my strength. So it was a week of laying low, not much exercise, and purposely backing off the BMGS regimen that has been working for me.

It's all well and good to listen to one's body, and something that I have grudgingly improved at over the years, but I should also admit that I was a little anxious that I would lose all the ground I have gained the past eight weeks. Especially with yesterday being pretty much a day devoted to hanging out and barbecuing on my pal's deck, capped off with two very good cheeseburgers and two Sam Lights while Kip was visiting for dinner last night.

Not to worry.

I won't go into great detail now, but I am pleased, all things considered.

First, I was back in the pool today for 48 laps and I felt great. Nothing special, no sprints, just a good 2/3-mile swim with no rest breaks. And when I arrived home afterward I didn't feel like crashing immediately (as is usually the case on my long days but would not have surprised me today).

Second, Monday's my weekly weigh-in and and I came in at 249.2, down a little bit from last week, and just three ounces above my goal for this week's weigh-in. Got to step it up just a little this week, but all is well.

Embracing the solitude - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Saturday, November 10, 2007

2009-07-13T13:32:00.002-04:00

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Saturday, November 10, 2007

Feeling at least half better today, which I will take. I'm down a pound to 240 even, the lowest I have been, after too many days on a plateau. So I am pleased about that, too.

The fact that the scale registers a pound lower probably has a lot to do with the fact that I've been eating like a sick person the last couple of days, with lots of soup and yogurt.

But that's okay, I'll accept credit for eating healthy, even if I didn't have my usual appetite. Frankly, just between you and me, there have been plenty of times when I have been sick in the past, felt lousy, and used it as an excuse to pig out.

Or, just as easily, I could have gone to one of my all-time favorite ways of coping with a cold, come the evening hours: copious amounts of rum and orange juice, in progressively stronger doses. It really does help one glide through a cold's symptoms, as long as one does not have to drive or take care of small children, etc. I heartily recommend it, and as I was driving home from hanging with Danny a little after 6 yesterday evening I gave serious thought to stopping at the packie.

But the rum and orange juice cure is not generally meant to be taken in moderation. At the very least I would have had 3 stiff drinks, which would have netted me 1200 calories. More likely, I would have finished the rum and the orange juice, and blamed it on the cold.

So taking care of myself, instead, is the right way to go. Being able to do that, and having confidence that I will continue to do it, is all about having this blog to report to each day. It makes a huge difference to know that I am committed to my daily target of about 1750 calories, and likewise to know that I will report here with a truthful summary of the day's calorie events.

In the process, I am also, I think, strengthening my daily routines. Which beings me back to somebody I wanted to write a little bit about today.

Pat B. is one of my favorite people at my Thursday night Gamblers Anonymous meeting. During the 8:30 break this week she came over and sat down next to me. "You know, we should really talk some time about what it is like to be in this program when you live alone," she said.

Now I am going to jump tracks back from gambling to eating and health, and just say that Pat is about as healthy a 78-year-old as I have known. She just exudes good health, and she is an inspiration. She builds her life around healthy daily routines, and gets up every morning to a breakfast of yogurt, nuts and berries every morning between 5:30 and 6 a.m.

There's a beauty that people have, that radiates from the inside out, when they take good care of themselves from the inside out. Pat definitely has it, although she also has plenty of strength: witness the fact that she almost always joins the guys moving tables and chairs back into place after each meeting.

Living alone makes things easy sometimes, and more difficult other times. Right now I am embracing my solitude, and gaining a lot from it. Drawing inspiration from other people who have done very well at living healthy lives while living alone, like Pat B. and my sister Deborah, helps me with these gains.

So, nothing earthshaking here, but to put it very simply, one of the things that I hope to build in myself as I continue with Big Man Getting Smaller is a daily life whose foundation is based on healthy routines like the ones that are the cornerstones of Pat's days. And yesterday I picked up some berries and yogurt, rather than rum and orange juice.

Friday's Soundtrack

When I am back at full strength I'm planning to write a post about an inspiring friend of mine named Pat, but for now I'll just share some music: "Free Bird" by Lynyrd Skynyrd, hoping it will help me kick this scum-of-the-earth virus that has plagued me the past couple of days.

Saturday's Soundtrack

Here's one I'm guessing Pat B. remembers!

1 comments:

thoughtz said...: I try to imagine solitude... living as I do with my son, husband, 3 cats, 2 dogs and a parakeet. I wonder what it would be like to sit at my computer in the living room and write without having to block the loud TV not 10 feet away, or the sound of the snoring hubby in front of said TV...
I fantasize about someday living here alone... or perhaps in New York in a little studio apartment. I wonder what it would be like to never have to come home because someone expected me home... to go to a bar on the way home or to go to a friend's and spend the night without even having to call home to explain...
Donna; November 11, 2007 12:07 PM

Weekly Weigh-In: Snickering at the Scale

2009-07-06T11:46:00.008-04:00

Another successful weekly weigh-in, and I am establishing myself in the 240s now over the past few days, despite allowing some, well, interesting balance into my life the past couple of days that:

at the Lincoln town fireworks Saturday night, I enjoyed a dinner of Doritos and two frozen Snickers bars
last night my pal and I celebrated several sweet months with a walk and a dinner in Concord, and my dinner included a pomegranate martini, a cheeseburger, a caesar salad (my pal had french fries, but being statuesque she can get away with anything), and something called a Chocolate Explosion

I won't allow myself many weekends like that, but I also did some walking and it's all good on the scale this morning at 249.6. It has actually been remarkably gradual, which is probably exactly what I should be aspiring to, albeit without Snickers bars.

It was all they had at the fireworks snack bar, really.

PS - This morning my pal said that I looked really healthy around the eyes. I don't know if that would be the Doritos or the frozen Snickers bars.

Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 11/7/2007: 2 million reasons to cut back to 2,300 calories

2009-07-06T11:46:00.003-04:00

If you've ever wondered why there have been so many mentions of the Red Sox on this blog that is supposed to be about losing weight, yesterday the planets came into perfect alignment and the question was answered.

According to his "38 Pitches" blog, 40-year-old pitcher Curt Schilling agreed to a 1-year contract to remain with the Sox Monday night, and the contract includes a $2 million weight incentive.

Yes, $2 million. All he has to do for that $2 million is "make weight" at 6 randomly scheduled weigh-ins during the course of the year.

What a country, hmm? It does make good sense both for the player and the team, and my guess is that it will make a big difference in helping Schill to meet the other key incentive in his contract, which parcels out up to $4 million as he hits certain levels in innings pitched.

So, many people might be a little envious here and lament the fact that we all can't pick up a serious check just by having a salad or two, I am a caring, giving spirit (and a Sox fan for lo these past 50 years).

My mission here is to offer some assistance.

The challenge for Curt, I think, is the challenge that I've faced and so many men face when they are at that cusp between the end of their serious "jock" career and, er, whatever it is that comes afterward. Curt's facing it at 40, whereas most men face it in their 20s or 30s.

You believe that you can work your way back into shape just by punishing your body in the gym, on the field, etc. Changing what you eat is only a minor consideration. You think you can cut back on a beer or two, drop the desserts (at least until after midnight), and cover for it all by burning off a thousand calories a day at the gym. A guy who is in pretty good shape can make that work for a while, but he runs the risk of overtraining, especially when his body is beginning to break down a little bit to begin with.

So here's what Curt needs to do. He's 6'4" and he will turn 41 a week from today. Although his baseball bio says he weight 215, I suspect that's what he weighed when he was photographed for this 1988 New Britain Red Sox baseball card. My estimate is that he goes 275 to 280 now.

At 275, with moderate exercise, his basal metabolic rate to maintain that weight is 3,822 calories a day. If he cuts 1,500 calories a day from that figure, he can still eat over 2,300 calories a day, which allows for plenty of good steaks, chicken and seafood and even an occasional dessert or beer. (One or the other, not both).

It's not rocket science. It's that simple.

Do the math, dude.

At that rate, he'll lose 3 pounds a week (1500 x 7 / 3500 = 3) between now and mid-February, when pitchers and catchers report to Spring training. He'll weigh 235 then, he'll look great, and he'll be ready to pitch. He'll still be strong as a bull, and he'll have a little extra jingle in his pocket.

If he keeps it up through the season, he could get down to his rookie playing weight by the World Series and then in 2009, his first year of retirement, he'll be able to run the Boston Marathon with his lovely wife Shonda. Which will no doubt lead to another bloody sock.

The real benefit would be long-term, of course. Like me, Schill has a choice between going through the rest of his life as a load or as a healthy, relatively fit guy. As my friend Nick has mentioned, being 6'4" or 6'5" can cover for you only for a while. I fully expected to start seeing Schill at Subway and BoLoco when I am there to pick up my calorie-counted subs and burritos.

Go, Schill!

Update: As you are probably already aware, the point was moot. Schilling's arm problems kept him from ever rejoining the active Red Sox roster again, and he retired from baseball without -- one assumes -- ever getting paid for a weigh-in.

Rhythm, no blues

2009-07-03T10:02:00.003-04:00

Filed by Steve on Friday, July 3, 2009

Terrific rhythm to my life in the last 24 hours:

I did most of the work on my weekly Kindle Nation email newsletter yesterday morning, writing a lost post that I feel pretty good about under the title "Wake Up, Amazon!"
Then I hung with Danny who was home sick from tweener summer day camp from 2 to 6 and he cleaned my clock twice at Clue, Simpsons version. We also went outside with Brownie for a while so he could take a hammer to a matchbox el-caminoed Cadillac which he had purchased for two bucks at Newbury Comics for the express purpose of seeing how hard it would be to demolish it with a hammer. That's my boy.
I got to the pool at 6 and did my 40 laps, which got me to a little over 3 miles for the week. Hot damn!
Arrived back at my house about 7:30 knowing I needed to do about two hours of work to send out Kindle Nation. Took a 45-minute nap with the replay of the previous day's Sox game as ambient TV noise, then got up, made myself a sardine sandwich and a cup of coffee, and hit "send" on Kindle Nation at 10:35 pm.
Included, in Kindle Nation, a note saying that there would be no issue this coming week. Just like the New York does in the summer sometimes, except they plan their breaks a little further ahead.
I was asleep by 11, like a rock on the pillow. Okay, a big rock.
Wandered through the house looking for coffee some time this morning, sat down and read an email sent by my pal suggesting I give her a call at 11:17 pm, looked at the clock on the computer and it said 5:52 am.
Had a bowl of flax cereal and two cups of coffee and spent the next two hours extremely productively while lying down: reading the chapter about my friend Jim Koch's friend John Wing in the The Smartest Guys in the Room, then making notes toward an amazing business plan for a new media company.
I also made a long list of things I could do today, and have done some of them.
Had a lovely conversation with my pal, although it was not about anything.

Weekend warrior - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 on November 1, 2009

2009-07-03T09:07:00.004-04:00

It’s opening night for the Celtics tonight.

I think this could be the best season the Celtics have had since the early 90s, when we said goodbye over several years and for several reasons to Larry Joe Bird, Chief, DJ, McHale, Reggie Lewis and Lenny Bias. There is talk of a new Big Three, which of course will be nothing but heresy unless and until the new guys hang a flag.

Back in the 80s, when Larry was the king of this city and I had a third of a front-row season ticket at the old Garden through several amazing seasons, I also had a moment of totally unintended athletic competition with Larry Joe Bird.

I was in my 30s, mind you, and had been doing a little running. Enough to compete as a weekend warrior in an occasional 10K or 5-miler and to finish somewhere in the middle of the pack. Long before Big Man Getting Smaller, I was one of those guys of whom it was sometimes said, “Moves well for a big man.” I probably went around 220 or 225 at the time.

One weekend in March, a bit before St. Paddy’s day, the Celtics organization was the primary sponsor of a road race they called the “Shamrock Classic,” making a circuit around the North End and the Waterfront. I found out that the race would include something fair uncommon in those days, in addition to the various age groups, a “Clydesdale” division for guys over 210.

The race started and finished in front of the Garden. I wasn’t fast, but I was fast enough that I figured there was a good chance that the Clydesdale trophy might have my name on it, even though there was a huge field, pumped up by Celtics marketing.

I started toward the back of the pack and and picked guys off as I went along. I can’t remember now how long the race was, or what my time was, but I did fairly well, and when I finished I got a cold beer and waited for the results print-outs to get posted on a brick wall across the street from the Garden. I thought I had a decent shot.

Finally they posted the sheet with the Clydesdale winner on it. I had just about convinced myself that another fat guy could not have beaten me.

I squinted in the sunlight to read the name of the Clydesdale winner, and I was right. Another fat guy had not beaten me.

The Clydesdale winner was a 6’9”, 239-pound guy from French Lick, Indiana, who was about 10 years younger than me. He kicked my ass.

He wore number 33, as he always did. This is also the number of pounds the Big Man Getting Smaller has lost in the past 9 weeks.

Happy Celtics Opening Day, Larry. Here’s a song for you.

I feel lucky that I somehow grew up to be somebody who appreciates sports. A fan. And I feel doubly lucky to be living in Boston throughout so much of the past 50 years. Not everyone sees any significance in what guys like Bird, Russ, Pedro, Bobby Orr, Big Papi, Yaz, Cooz, DJ, Brady, Flutie, the Splinter, Rodgers, Joanie, and El Tiante did when they strapped them on. I do. And nobody ever did more credit to any team's uniform than Larry Bird did when he stepped on the parquet as a Celtic.

Thursday's Soundtrack

This is kind of a self-improvement song. The video is Jewel's cover, yodeling and all, but here is a link to the Indigo Girls' original. Words and music by IG Emily Saliers.

Actually I think the yodeling is by Woody's granddaughter (and Arlo's daughter) Sarah Lee Guthrie. The song is "Closer to Fine." I remember the first time I played it for my daughter Kippy when she was about 11. She didn't give it a high rating. She said it sounded like a sound they'd sing around the campfire at Farm & Wilderness. No doubt.

100 Laps Yesterday, and Younger Next Year

2009-07-01T09:31:00.011-04:00

Given my schedule with my son Danny and the fact that the pool is open only at limited weekday times, my swimming routine is that I try for four days a week and sometimes only manage three days. I add in other exercise -- walking, running, maybe a little tennis with my pal this weekend? -- as I can, and it is working pretty well.

The structure of my workouts is to include one "long" day each week, with two or three other days on which I am trying to follow an old training principle from distance running, which is to add no more than about 10% to the distance of my workouts, week over week. That's been going great and I've gone from 16 laps my first day in the pool May 19 to half a mile (36 laps) on my regular workout days this week.

Yesterday was my long day. I did 100 laps. 80 laps without a rest, then I had to get out of the pool for a pit stop (and to stretch out a slight cramp in my toes), and then the final 20.

2500 yards.

1.42 miles.

I was in the pool for an hour and 20 minutes. If someone had told me 10 years ago that I would ever in my life spend an hour and 20 minutes swimming laps in an indoor pool I would have laughed out loud and said "you don't know me."

But I am enjoying it, thinking and imagining and ruminating as I swim, feeling better conditioned every day, and the endorphins, have I mentioned the endorphins? I went over to my pal's after my workout and sat on the sofa watching the Sox and she looked at my big silly endorphin-laced grin and said something along the lines of "You so goofy."

Yes indeed.

And that's not all.

You may recall that a few days ago I set a little side-goal alongside my usual cumulative goal of losing a pound a week (on which I am on track). Seeing that I had a shot at reaching it, I decided to make an effort to get "into the 240s" weight-wise by July 1.

So today I stepped aboard and weight in at 249.6, thanks in large part to my nice long workout in the pool yesterday.

It may come as no surprise to you that I like getting various kinds of positive feedback for my efforts. It helps to motivate me. Sometimes the feedback comes from others, and sometimes it comes from writing things down, keeping track, and charting my progress. It makes me feel good. I like to feel good, especially if in some small way I have earned it.

Getting into the 240s is good positive feedback, that will help me continue on this path. So is the progress of what I am able to accomplish in my long workouts over the past 4 weeks:

6/5 - 30 laps
6/11 - 36 laps (1/2 mile!)
6/16 - 48 laps (2/3 mile, no rests)
6/23 - 72 laps - 1 mile!
6/30 - 100 laps - 1.42 miles

And so are the endorphins.

And it's no accident that I got a haircut yesterday and I am going to the dentist this afternoon. You don't want to know how long it has been since I went to the dentist. But there's a trend here, and it's not all bad.

Without putting too fine a point on any of this, I'll just reference one of the section headings from a great book that I am reading on my Kindle thanks to my friend and college classmate Len Edgerly, he of the The Kindle Chronicles podcast. The book is entitled Younger Next Year: A Guide to Living Like 50 Until You're 80 and Beyond, by Chris Crowley and Harry Lodge. (It's also available in paperback). I don't usually cotton to such books, but this one is intelligent, packed with a lot more interesting information than most fitness tomes, and totally on my wavelength.

The section heading that caught my eye?

"Just Say No to Yasir Arafat"

Just so.

(P.S. - My friend Ned asked me to post the recent photograph above showing the gills that are growing on my body. I couldn't get a profile view which would have been clearer).

Related posts:

Getting Younger Every Year - and a Good Weekly Weigh-in

Romance Leads to Regimen Leads to Results

Off the shrink's couch - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 Halloween, October 31, 2007

2009-07-01T08:49:00.003-04:00

Today marks two months for Big Man Getting Smaller, and 32 pounds gone. It is working, and I can already tell that it is working a little better now that the Red Sox are finished keeping me up past midnight. I appreciate the warmth of the feedback I have gotten from so many people who have been in touch with me in various ways about this blog, and even the fact that at times the central struggle of BMGS seems shared. We are doing it.

Which leads me to share some thoughts about another writer’s efforts….

A good friend of a good friend (does that make her a pretty good friend? I’d like to think so) writes a regular column for her community’s weekly paper, the Free Press down in North Attleboro, and I have become a frequent reader. Written under the column title “This Too Shall Pass,” Donna’s work is a little bit Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City, a little bit Beans of Egypt, and all her own. I get something good from it each time I give myself the time to sit with it for a few moments.

Last week she did a bit of a retrospective on how her homestead came to be known as Poverty Flats in the column, and how the column itself came to be and evolved along with her family. Having lived for a while in what my family and out neighbors called “Poverty Hollow” in Sandwich as a child, in a family that was by no means conventional, I was predisposed to identify with what she wrote.

A couple of paragraphs in particular caught my eye because they shed some light, as Donna wrote about the place of her column in her life and the life of her family, on the importance that this Big Man Getting Smaller blog has taken on for me:

“My children have grown up in the pages of the Free Press, and relatives and friends have kept up with life here at the Flats. I guess you might say that This Too Shall Pass was the original blog which you didn't need a computer to enjoy.”

And, earlier on:

“Through it all, my column has kept me off a shrink's couch, and saved loads in medication costs. It helps one's ability to deal with the ups and down of daily life to be able to write about the events and have other humans read and share the load. I have no idea why this works but it does.”

Well, yeah, exactly. Writing in interesting, witty, and self-examining ways about our lives, as Donna does, takes some time, patience and guts, but there are rewards. It isn’t something that everyone can do.

It puts things in perspective, and without presuming too much on my own friends’ tolerance for my own loquaciousness, it can be a wonderful way to stay in touch. I couldn’t say it any better than Donna said it, so I hope it won’t bring the Free Press’ lawyers down on my head that I have quoted two paragraphs here.

Meanwhile, Happy Halloween. I am pleased and proud, this Halloween to be the father of a 9-year-old axe murderer.

If he darkens your door this evening, all I can tell you is: "Don't be a hero. Give up the candy. Better to lose the candy than your neck."

Wednesday's Soundtrack

A story song from 1962 ... it's a little bit Halloween, a little bit Poverty Flats, and a little bit Poverty Hollow: the lesson of Dickie Lee's "Patches" is that inter-class romance can be a killer.

Welcome to Our World, Rose Helen Jackson!

2009-06-29T14:35:00.006-04:00

No doubt there are a few readers who are squinting at that little fraction-of-an-inch patch of Rose's face and saying, "Awwww, isn't she cute!!??"

And I am sure she is very, very cute. But I am here to say that this little girl is also very lucky, because she was born last Tuesday to two wonderful and grateful parents, Jennifer and my old roomie Paul. A little over 8 pounds, or about twice as big as the puppy Danny got for his fourth birthday.

It's been a blessing to watch all of this unfold over the past couple of years, Rose, and I can't wait to meet you. And I am also looking forward to sharing some of the experiences of fatherhood with your Dad.

As for the Big Man Getting Smaller, fatherhood continues to provide one amazing experience after another. Today, Danny got poked in the nose in karate, and it bled. Second time for this, but a big difference from the first time, which was a little bit teary. Today he just sucked it up, went in to the bathroom to clean himself up, and went about his business. That's my boy.

And of course, Danny is at or near the top among the many reasons why I am hard at this quest for fitness and health and longevity. Who would want to miss and of what I experience day after day and month after month with kids like Danny and Kippy and Moriah and a grandson like Callum? Nobody in his right mind, that's who.

So I swam again today, 40 laps in the pool at 6 o'clock. After swimming half a mile (36 laps) without a rest, I finished the workout with two 50-yard freestyle (crawl) sprints in 64 and 63 seconds. The U.S. mens' record, a little over 21 seconds, is safe. But I felt like I was moving in the water, and it felt good.

And I also got on the scale for my weekly weigh-in, and it was good. Down 0.8 from last week to 250.6, still ahead of schedule, and within spittin' distance of my little side goal of getting down into the 240s by July 1.

It's been a hell of a week here in East Arlington....

2009-06-27T15:53:00.005-04:00

Amazing week.

In a very intense and disciplined burst of energy Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday I put the finishing touches on a book that I have been working on, off and on, for months. It is still going through its paces in terms of final proofing, documentation, backmatter, line-editing, and cover design (see image at right), but I feel great about the book and I am looking forward to seeing it in a Kindle edition by the end of this week and in paperback later in July.

Tuesday evening I swam a mile in the pool. 72 laps. I think I have already crowed about that, but, well. A mile. I started the swimming regimen on May 19 and prior to that I had now done anty lap-swimming, or any real swimming other than sloshing around in the ocean or a pond, for over 40 years. I am still feeling great from that, and I was back in the pool Thursday for 30 laps Thursday evening.

After I got out of the pool I picked up my pal at her office and we went to a party. Not just any party. The 60th birthday party of a great old friend from my undergraduate days hanging out at the South House Grille, wetting our whistles with a gallon jug of Vino Fino on Saturday nights, and other pursuits. During the past couple of years I have been blessed to enjoy wonderful times re-connecting with a great group of people from those years, and spending some time with Jim has been one of those treats. Being at his 60th birthday party was special, and the beer, the lobster, and the vintage music were damned good too. And I danced -- much to the astonishment of my pal, and dance partner.

All of that -- Thursday's 30 laps and the subsequent partying -- also occurred after I completed an intense day meeting Thursday's weekly deadline for my Kindle Nation email newsletter, with over 3,000 words of fresh content.

Then on Friday -- after my mid-day nap -- my pal and I took my son Danny, who will be 11 in six weeks, to a concert. David Archuleta, KSM, and Demi Lovato. I had noticed Archuleta's name before, only because Louise Archuleta -- no relative, I assume -- was one of the community leaders with whom I was honored to work as a community organizer in Danieldale, Texas, a little over 30 years ago. (We brought picnic baskets and blankets and occupied the offices of the City of Dallas; director of parks and recreation until we wona commitment of CDBG funding for what came to be known as Danieldale ACORN Park, but that's another story.) Otherwise, these were not names with which I had been familiar. Let's just say that while we had great fun at the concert, the experience did not knock the Stones and BB King at the Garden (November 1969) from the top spot among my all-time list of favorite concerts. And I lasted as long as Danny.

Tonight my pal and I are going to babysit my 15-month-old grandson Callum, and this afternoon after making some good progress on the cover design above I went out on a beautiful day and had a great sweaty 35-minute run -- something I can only do now and then, but which I enjoyed greatly on a day when the pool was closed.

And those are just the things I can tell you about.

Arrogant, pretentious, and prideful - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 on October 27, 2007

2009-06-27T15:29:00.004-04:00

This is the cover image of Bowl of Cherries, the debut novel of Millard Kaufman, who celebrated his 90th birthday last March. Yes, I said “debut” novel. As in, his first novel.

You gotta love that. I do. I listened to an interview this morning on the radio, and l read some print media notices.

Then I ordered the book, which is published by an absolutely wonderful indie publishing house called McSweeney’s. I’ll let you know what I think. (It’s not like Mr. Kaufman doesn’t already have his writing chops. He wrote the screenplay for the Academy Award-nominated Bad Day at Black Rock (1955). and was a co-creator of Mr. Magoo. But still.)

But first, just this. This is why we live. This is why it is worth pulling out all the stops to get back into great shape when we are 57. Because there are decades and decades left, and also, there might be a book signing party when we are 90. And we’d want to be in shape for that, looking our best, and feeling our best. (I type this as I listen to Daniel Schorr’s commentary on this week’s news on NPR. Yes, he is older than Mr. Kaufman.)

It would be easy, at any point, to throw in the towel. To say, “No Mas,” or just to quit trying for anything but the pillow at the end of the day.

But life is best when we live it for its best moments, and refuse to accept the sentence to mediocrity implicit in Thoreau’s line: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.”

It is arrogant of me, and pretentious, and prideful, I am sure, to see the best in myself after having faced the worst. To envision great productivity and wonderful results in my future. But it is also a gift to myself. Sometimes, at my most hopeful, I even believe that it is also a gift to my children, to their children, to my loved ones, to my friends and fellow citizens. Life is long, or could be, and one never knows.

So I try to work out almost every day, and to keep the calories 1000 to 1500 a day below my daily “maintenance level” of about 3200. Not because I’ll ever get those sixpack abs back, or run a sub-4:40 mile again, or be a babe magnet, or recover my wildly delusional dream to someday play third for the Sox. But because I want to be around for a long time, do some serious good work, and enjoy my life and my loved ones.

If I am around at 90, I want to expect every bit as much of myself as Millard Kaufman does of himself. I wonder what his next project is.

One of my several literary heroes, D.H. Lawrence, used his fiction to struggle with the issues in his life and to remake himself as a man. For now, I will admit, this same sort of struggle is one ulterior purpose for my blog. But I probably shouldn’t call it “ulterior.” My weight-loss goals and my everyday struggle to renew and remake my life are, at some fundamental level, one and the same. (And I am untroubled by the sheer ridiculousness of the implied comparison).

So I will write today. And do my other work. And get to the gym. And read my daughter’s blog. And hang out with my 9-year-old son. And email my friends. And count calories.

Saturday's Soundtrack

This one may seem insufficient as a dance tune, unless you are really, really in the moment with it.

The artwork is amazing, as is Ginsburg's reading.

Here are links to the parts:

Howl Part 1 by Allen Ginsberg

Howl Part 2 by Allen Ginsberg

Sunday Soundtrack

Ah, medication....

This may be the perkiest song ever recorded by a good band. I'm not totally down with it. If you watch the video it won't be hard to decipher which character I identify with. But it's okay. A perky song can be a kind of place-holder until my medication kicks in, yes, Doctor?

I do like REM a lot. If it weren't for their other songs that I like a lot I probably would never have listened to this one. Here are the other songs:

Nightswimming

Man on the Moon (with Bruce!)

Losing My Religion

Everybody Hurts

One other thing that I like about Michael Stipe and his band is that they commit themselves to the videos, which tend to be pretty good.

Monday's Soundtrack

A nice season comes to a nice conclusion for the Sox, playing a nice game.

I have to admit ... I am a little glad it is over. Now I can get back to eating right and getting to sleep at a decent hour!

Tuesday's Soundtrack

It's difficult to describe now how important it was, growing up in a sleepy little town on Cape Cod in 1965, to be able to hear the occasional messages like this that slipped through the seams of the dominant culture.

You'd always think, "Whoa, what's he getting at? Oh, yeah, it's that thing again, that thing that you think about all the time...."

1 comments:

thoughtz said...: Arrogant, pretentious and prideful... that is what those who call me who are living lives of quiet desperation. Life is to have fun with and to have our positive thoughts create our wonderful future! I find your blog very inspiring!
Donna; October 28, 2007 12:41 PM

Update: Mr. Kaufman died in March of 2009.

A mile!

2009-06-23T22:21:00.003-04:00

5/19 - 12 laps
5/20 - 14 laps
5/21 - 16 laps
5/26 - 18 laps
5/27 - 20 laps
5/28 - 20 laps
6/1 - 22 laps
6/2 - 22 laps
6/3 - 22 laps
6/5 - 30 laps
6/8 - 24 laps
6/9 - 30-minute jog
6/10 - 24 laps
6/11 - 36 laps (1/2 mile!)
6/15 - 26 laps
6/16 - 48 laps (2/3 mile, no rests)
6/18 - 26 laps
6/19 - 26 laps
6/22 - 10 laps (Pool was overcrowded with 4 people swimming clockwise in each set of double lanes, collisions, and craziness, so I gave up to live another day after 10 frustrating laps)
6/23 - 72 laps - 1 mile! - I last swam a mile the day I got my junior lifesavers patch when I was 12. That was not recently.

Five minutes

2009-06-23T08:03:00.004-04:00

I took five minutes yesterday.

Jack G's wife died Thursday morning, and last night I drove down to Milford for the wake. My pal came with me and we had good talks on the way and the way back, so all it really took for me to pay my respects to Jack, to give him hugs of greeting and of parting, to tell him to call me any hour of the day or night, was five minutes. We got there about 7:30 and we were back in the car before 7:45. It meant something to Jack G, and it meant something to me.

How many wakes or funerals have I passed up, begrudging the five minutes? Dozens, maybe more. Probably there will be more to come, and maybe I'll have learned something when they do come.

The fact that I made it a priority to reach out to Jack imposed some order on my day yesterday, along with my time with Danny and his Karate class, so I did not post here about my weekly weigh-in, or anything else.

But I did the weigh-in, and even though the clock says 8:09 and my current regimen says that I must be working on the book and not blogging between 8 am and 1 pm, I am taking this five minutes now. As important as it is to be accountable to my writing regimen, it is equally important to be accountable to my BMGS regimen.

Sometimes life as a grown-up is about balancing multiple and mildly conflicting forms of accountability. Duh.

So I will just post the chart here, and say that it is all good, very good, especially when the weigh-in at 251.4 came after a weekend that featured a Father's Day brunch with Danny at Country Buffet (yes, as in "all you can eat") and a delicious barbecue at my pal's.

I am going to keep this up and I am going to be down into the 240s at or near the first of July! Is that big?

Well, a little less big, but yes.

Catastrophic - Originally posted to BMGS 1.0, October 24, 2007

2009-06-23T07:54:00.004-04:00

Catastrophic
Originally posted to BMGS 1.0 on Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Fire. A few months ago, when I read Cormac McCarthy's The Road, I didn't get it about the fire. His fire-ravaged post-apocalyptic earth was perhaps the result of nuclear disaster, yet now, at the same time, I am beginning to get it about fire. The fire could keep coming. It isn't hellfire, but it isn't an accident either. Water here, fire there. Out there, it is the driest it has been in over a century. The planet will have the last word.

I just spoke to my daughter Kip on the phone. She's a transplanted Boston girl making her way in LA, but the last few days she has been at her grandmother's in La Jolla, surrounded by smoke. It's hard to get my head around what this experience must be like there, with ash falling like a bad joke from the sky everywhere, smoke rising up in frightening billows, and lovely La Jolla overfilled with people scared to death of where they have come from and not knowing when or if their lives will still be there when they go back.

It is every bit as frightening and catastrophic as 9.11, but it remains to be seen if it will inspire a fightback. There are causes, but they do not submit easily to campaigns of hate, being so close at hand. There are things that could be done, but they would take discipline and rigor and real concern about people and the planet. They do not involve invading any other countries. They may require a look in the mirror.

I shouldn't get started. This is no time for ranting, is it? I'm not sure. I am proud of my daughter for helping out at Qualcomm, and I hope that she doesn't inhale too much smoke.

*************************************************************************

Unencumbered

Wednesday's Soundtrack

That was me at 17, in 1967, making a move in a race on a Saturday afternoon in October. It's good, even now, to be able to summon that kid's heart and toughness for an important struggle, or, sometimes, just to get through the day. He was always ready. He could always do what had to be done. Whatever it took, day or night. Good chance he passed that guy just ahead of him in the teeshirt.

I figure that I will be living in whatever I make of my body for another 30 years. I know I'll never have that one back, too many nicks and dings. But I can get back a lot closer to that, and why wouldn't it be worth the effort?

Stood there boldly
Sweatin in the sun
Felt like a million
Felt like number one
The height of summer
I'd never felt that strong
Like a rock

I was eighteen
Didn't have a care
Working for peanuts
Not a dime to spare
But I was lean and
Solid everywhere
Like a rock

My hands were steady
My eyes were clear and bright
My walk had purpose
My steps were quick and light
And I held firmly
To what I felt was right
Like a rock

Like a rock, I was strong as I could be
Like a rock, nothin ever got to me
Like a rock, I was something to see
Like a rock

And I stood arrow straight
Unencumbered by the weight
Of all these hustlers and their schemes
I stood proud, I stood tall
High above it all
I still believed in my dreams

Twenty years now
Where'd they go?
Twenty years
I dont know
Sit and I wonder sometimes
Where theyve gone

And sometimes late at night
When I'm bathed in the firelight
The moon comes callin a ghostly white
And I recall
Recall

Like a rock. standin arrow straight
Like a rock, chargin from the gate
Like a rock, carryin the weight
Like a rock

Like a rock, the sun upon my skin
Like a rock, hard against the wind
Like a rock, I see myself again
Like a rock

Words and music by Bob Seger

Special bonus track, apropos of nada