4:00 AM Magic

It’s 4:00 AM. Do you know where your wife is?

I do. She’s in our basement, lights already on, feet resting on the coffee table, leaning back on the couch, phone in her left hand, cup of Energize in her right. Her ankles crossed as she sips the drink, she waits in solitude and silence, expecting me by her side before long.

Meanwhile, I fumble to hoist myself to sitting. A dream interrupted, a deep sleep dashed, thoughts jumbled, whereabouts known only somewhat. I know what I must do and yet, my groggy, mostly sleeping mind tells me I’m wrong.

“Who the hell gets up at this hour?”

I don’t know.

“Look outside. Does it look like it’s time to wake up?”

Not really. I’d be scared to be out at this hour.

“What’d you get? Five hours? Minus the two times you went to pee?”

<<Yawn>> Yeah, that’s true.

“Technically, you could get another 45 minutes of sleep before work. It would probably suit you.”

You’re right.

“So why don’t you just close your eyes, sit in the darkness a while, and let the sleep overcome you? You deserve it. You need it.”

You’re right. I’ll just close my…WAIT. WHAT THE HELL? SHUT UP. I’m already up! Why would I go back to sleep? Nice try.

And with that, I rise. I narrowly avoid the bedpost as I trip over a pillow while stepping on the edge of the dog’s bed. My first major accomplishment of the day: I’m upright.

Slowly, I shuffle. The floorboards creak. My back creaks. But the basement beckons. With labored thumps, downward I galumph, no air of grace, strength, or beauty becoming me. I heave myself on the couch beside my wife, laboriously raise my legs to match hers on the table, give a deep, dramatic sigh, and fall back.

“What’s the matter?” she asks. The question is always the same.

“I just woke up.” I respond. The answer is always the same, too.

I lift my own cup of Energize to my lips, grateful to my bride who lovingly prepared it the night before as I dozed ingloriously on the couch and who carried it downstairs for me today. We drink in silence, still too asleep to converse. Ten minutes, maybe 15 pass, and one of us says, “We should probably get started.”

And so, we hit play. In all their glory, Autumn and the cast are ready to go. And so are we. When the lights come on, we’re primed and pumped to get our butts kicked because “no impact does not mean easy.” No, it does not.

As if the sweat exiting my pores is somehow leaching my brain of quality cells, my mind starts up again.

“You don’t need to finish the last two reps.”

“Just take the modification.”

“You’ve done enough for the day, it’s okay if you stop now and go get ready.”

But again, I command my mind to cease. If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything. And onward I go.

Now, 30 minutes later, as we cool down and stretch, I revel in the glow of a completed work out. In an hour, at 5:45, we will be heading out the door to catch our train and be on the way to work. Many people won’t have even hit their first snooze of the morning.

Before my day has even started, I’ve accomplished something major. My body thanks me. My brain thanks me. I did something great today, and it’s going to be a good day.

There’s no abracadabra or hocus pocus when it comes to the 4:00 AM magic. There’s no true trickery or sleight of hand. But that feeling when you’re done? The sweat dripping so profusely you look like you came out of the shower and then wet your pants? The knowledge that something big has already happened, and something bigger might still be coming? That’s where the magic is.

And we can all be magicians.

I’ve Lost 10 Pounds in 10 Days – Can I Tell You Why?

This morning was a lovely confluence of events.

For starters, I got on the scale and discovered I dropped another pound. This pushed me to 10.6 pounds lost in 10 days, which is pretty much ridiculous.

I kind of know what the difference has been, but reading this morning through the exercise chapter of You Can Drop It (Ilana Muhlstein) really crystallized why it’s working.

I have often been a victim of my own success when it comes to exercise. Why? Because I have too often rationalized my eating this way: “Well, I worked out today so I can have…”

That’s self-sabotage.

At my best, most fit, my reward for the workout would be eating healthy to maintain my momentum. But at my worst, I have allowed my reward to be eating too much. I’ll call it compensation.

Here’s Ilana’s take in a nutshell, directly quoted from her book (emphasis my own):

…in our minds, we justify the “cheat eat” if we had a difficult workout because we feel it was earned. That psychological trick we play on ourselves never works – and it always backfires, because you can literally negate any calorie burn you had in a workout with just a few bites.

Can you see how self-defeating that is? To me, it means that the workout is almost meaningless in the sense that it was a lot of work for strength and conditioning, but are you optimizing your work for weight and optimal fitness? I know when I “cheat eat” that way, the answer is a resounding, “NO.”

I can remember the first time my wife and I, who were dating at the time, took a long walk. And I do mean looooong. If memory serves, it was about 16 miles! We went for lunch at the diner after and we both ordered salads* (without even realizing we were doing “Veggies Most,” come to think of it). The idea of celebrating with a stack of pancakes or something else like that didn’t even occur to us.

*Side note: It was on this occasion that I convinced my lovely wife to try avocado for the first time. I gave her basically the smallest piece I could get and watched in fits of laughter as she repeatedly raised it to her lips before moving the fork away again. Eventually she tried it and of course, loved it!

I feel like I’m back at that necessary place now, where the reward for exercise is optimizing my health with healthy food. This is a wonderful change in mindset that I think is only possible because I’m following the 2B principles: Water First, Veggies Most, The Scale, and Track.

10.6 pounds down in 10 days can’t be wrong.

 

A Week Living the 2B Mindset

Yesterday marked the start of my second week living the ideas of 2B Mindset. I am not like some of the Mindsetters, folks who, bless them, have lost tens and tens, even 100 or more pounds. I’m just someone who cares about his health and knows there needs to be a better approach toward food and eating.

As a reference, some 8 or 9 years ago, I was tipping the scales at 214 lbs., squeezing myself into size 36 pants and wearing size large shirts. I decided to devote myself – almost fanatically – to my health and fitness and dropped 50 lbs. – yes, 50! – to weigh 164 and wear a size 30, generally wearing a small size shirt. I think my neck went from 17.5 to 14.5.

In the ensuing time, I’ve never gotten back to my starting weight, and I actually don’t think I ever got back to 200, but you know what? All the working out my wife and I have been doing, while it has made me stronger for sure, has not cut the pounds from my frame as might be expected. I always knew why – the food. I just never saw it clearly enough to say, “Enough is enough.”

Well, Week 1 of 2B Mindset has been wonderful. I want to tell you some of the awesome food I have been eating, share some of my new indulgences (contrasting them with the old), and let you know how much weight I’ve dropped despite rarely ever feeling hungry and never feeling deprived. Quite the contrary – the food I’ve eaten in the past week has largely been AMAZING.

Awesome Food I Have Been Eating

I don’t want to sound like a dope, but let me tell you something: veggies are the bomb.

I’ve never had a problem eating vegetables, and there are some I really like and am happy to gobble by the handful (carrots, tomatoes, peppers, mushrooms). I also love to roast a big pan of onions, parsnips, mushrooms, peppers, butternut squash…LOVE this in the fall and winter.

But now I see it so much better: veggies are versatile! There is so much you can do with them to make them taste amazing. By accessorizing them, the sky is really the limit.

Here are some things I have eaten devoured this week.

• Hearts of palm linguine with healthy alfredo sauce
• Spaghetti squash lasagna (one of my wife’s specialties)
• Scrambled eggs with sauteed mushrooms, peppers, and broccoli, topped with caramelized onions and a little feta
• fresh from my garden green beans topped with lemon and parmesan; this also works with broccoli
• zucchini noodles cooked in sauteed onions topped with tomato sauce – with a crusty piece of Ezekiel sesame bread and some ricotta

Hey, for having usually gotten my fill of veggies from a salad a couple times a week and shakes made with spinach in them, it’s been an impressive and exciting week. I am so pumped for the next Costco order to arrive with more vegetables.

New Indulgences

I have long enjoyed a nice bedtime snack. Some frozen cherries, a large bowl of SkinnyPop that could feed 5 people (my wife would eat for 1, me for 4), maybe a bowl of cereal, pretzels, graham crackers, or maybe three pieces of fruit. Not all at once, mind you, but still…

I am happy to say I have loved the “Dinner and Done” concept. After dinner, I brush my teeth and call it a night, food-wise. Maybe if I’m feeling adventurous or rebellious, I’ll have a can of flavored seltzer. But food after dinner? Doneskies.

I’ve long been a fruit fiend. I just love fruit. It’s watermelon season and I’m in charge of cutting them. Do you know how many pieces won’t make it into the container because they get sucked up by my face? A cup of watermelon this week was just fine. Same thing with blueberries, little handheld buggers that they are. I’m not so quick to just throw them down my mouth hole anymore. It all adds up.

Saturday has been pizza and wine night for my wife and I for a long time. She makes the sauce and I make the pizza. This week we both looked forward to it and, having been so purposeful and mindful about our eating all week, we both really enjoyed it. The glass of wine on the deck was also sensational. And guess what, for the first time in forever, I topped my half of the pizza with veggies – peppers and mushrooms. I couldn’t eat it fast enough. (Next morning, I had only gained .1 lbs. I guess pizza and wine night is here to stay!)

The Results Are In

At the start of the week, I stepped on the scale and was disappointed to see my weight perilously close to 200. It was 199.3.

As a Mindsetter, I embrace the fact that the scale is a tool, so I didn’t get too upset by it. That made sense as soon as I read about it. So, prepared that the scale’s numbers might rise or fall throughout the week, I dutifully checked my progress everyday. One day, I went up .3. After consulting my tracker, I decided not to have another one of the banana/veggie muffins I made for my toddler (mommy and daddy love veggies – he won’t even sniff one. But he will gobble down those “cupcakes”). The next day I recorded a loss. There’s a lot of power in knowing what you ate and how it may have affected you. Tracking is so important.

All that water, all those veggies, all that mindful eating, and guess what? I lost 6.9 lbs. in the first 7 days. I’m sold. I’m excited to keep shoving vegetables in my mouth. The results are there and it’s a great feeling.

Mindful Moments with a 2-Year Old

This morning, for whatever reason, I opened this meditation on mindfulness. I kid you not, I think I was in some kind of trance. It’s a nice way to start the day, clearheaded and  in the moment. And I was pleased to have the experience as an anchor for the day ahead.

How often do you get caught up in your thoughts, things happening around you, or distractions (smartphone, anyone?) Mindfulness helps you be aware of the now. It’s not to say that to-do list doesn’t need to get to-done, but, like I learned from Daniel Tiger, “Enjoy the wow that’s happening now.”

Yeah, I have learned a lot about Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. That’s my son’s favorite show of late. We watch it, we have the books, we sing the songs, we color the pages…

When he’s in the throes of a nasty tantrum, I might say to him “Oh come on, enjoy the wow that’s happening now.” It doesn’t help! Whatever, he’s working on it, right?

One of our favorite things to do is play outside in the backyard. Water is a big hit for him. Usually we will run the hose through his sprinkler pad, with the kiddie pool filled up, too. I’ll bring out my speaker and play some music while I watch him and enjoy his happiness (and manage his tantrums and clean his hands when he falls).

It’s often a treat to be out there with my little man. When the weather’s right, it’s perfectly heavenly.

But today was different. He wasn’t content for me to sit and watch. He wanted Daddy to play, too. I consider myself a very loving and devoted dad, and I so enjoy the time I get to have with him (what a blessing). But outside is hot and as long as he’s safe, it’s a good time to chill.

So, of course, I joined him. And you know what? For over an hour, we ran through that sprinkler pad, hiya’d our way through it like ninjas, danced in the sprinkler, and celebrated all the mud we were creating together. We held hands as we ran through, and we compared how much mud was on each of us. I didn’t care if I wasn’t looking at my phone. Instead, I had my giggling boy, our music, the feeling and sight of the “Ew! Wocky mud!”, and the sun on our faces. I was really in the moment. And you know what, in this mindful moment that seemed to last forever but didn’t last long enough, there was no Covid, no worries about anything.

“Run with me Daddy!” “I want to hold Daddy’s hand and run!” Enjoy the wow that’s happening now.

As he enjoyed his post-play watermelon-strawberry popsicle, I said, “Do you know how much your daddy loves you?” Sticky melted popsicle melting down his tiny hands, he said, “Yeah!”

Enjoy the wow.

 

That Feeling You Just Can’t Shake…Or Can You?

I’m not an anxious, worrisome person. I tend not to fixate on issues, and have really been working on understanding there are things I can’t control or do anything about. In terms of working through the mental part of this pandemic, at times I’ve taken a laissez-faire attitude toward information overload. Normally I am all over the news, but I have found myself feeling overwhelmed by all the Covid coverage.

That being said, I do like to be informed and like everyone, I have things at stake. Well, it seems that the latest focus relating to Covid-19 is the reopening of schools. You’ve got people on all sides of the issue, each with valid reasons, either for or against bringing kids back into schools.

For me, there’s a part that says kids need to be back in school safely for purposes of their education and socialization, both of which are vital for their development. I have seen the detrimental effects of both on my own students (children with disabilities) as well as my own children (14, 11, and 2). To be sure, there are no easy answers, nor will there be any solution that pleases everyone, nor will there be any decisions made that don’t ultimately cause 1,000 other problems of their own. It’s pretty much an impossible situation.

So what is this doing on this blog, which is supposed to be about fitness, motivation, and inspiration? I’ll explain. One thing I have come to understand on the last few years of life’s journey is that wellness, fitness, and health are not limited to one’s physical self. Indeed, while you run the risk of not being able to live without taking care of your physical well-being, if you neglect your mental well-being, you run the risk of not being able to survive.

Think about it: you can’t take care of anything until you take care of yourself.

I’m getting into a roundabout dissertation on the way to the story I want to share today. Forgive me, but when I was a journalism major in college, I was chided in red ink for being too florid and using up too much space with my extra words. I guess I haven’t learned that lesson.

Anyway, with my interest piqued by the debate about reopening schools, it’s renewed a certain sense of urgency in my wife and I (both teachers) to square away childcare for our 2-year old when (if?) we go back to work in late August or early September. We believe we have options, which is a plus. 

But where we are concerned we don’t have an option is when it comes to our little one wearing a mask back at daycare. Bless his heart, he can be very stubborn, independent, strong-willed, and petulant. I mean, he is two.

So what happens when he shows up at daycare and won’t wear a mask? 

It was with that idea this morning that I left my early AM conversation with my dear wife to go do my morning meditation before our morning workout (see how I’m incorporating mental health and physical on this blog?) For the first time since I gained an interest in meditation (which was admittedly only a few months ago), I decided to look for one about relieving worry and anxiety. That tight chest feeling that I couldn’t shake surely could be shaken by a good visualization and mind liberation. 

The Honest Guys meditations are really soothing, comforting, uplifting, etc. So I chose one of theirs. But as I was encouraged to see my worries lifting toward an ever growing cloud above me, only to be carried away on the atmosphere’s winds, to disappear over the horizon and never be seen again, I just couldn’t shake the feeling of worry in my chest. There were too many thoughts about my little man in a mask, his beautiful smile shielded from sight, his little sneezes stuffed inside a piece of cloth snug against his face, his almost certain unwillingness to even try to tolerate a mask, and the idea of how outrageous it is for anyone, MUCH LESS A TWO-YEAR OLD, to be expected to wear a mask for 8 hours.

Again, things I can’t control. Working on it.

My meditation ended, and I wasn’t at my best. It really hadn’t done much for me. But on the screen when I opened my eyes was a gentle image of a lake framed by a few leafy branches dancing on the breeze. Man did it look peaceful. What is it about water? The stillness, the repetition, the cleanliness, the opportunity, the endlessness? Whatever it is, I mean, water just gets me.

Serenity.

So I stared at that for a while until my wife joined me in the basement, ready to work out, but needing to provide a little therapy instead. What was I grateful for this morning? So much, but especially my angel.

We talked about this for another 20 minutes, baby monitor silently watching us as a reminder that there’s only so much time before we’re in parent mode. We usually start our workout by 6. Today? Not until 6:30!

I wasn’t even feeling it. Didn’t really want to do it. The heavy chest feeling messes with you, and tells you useless, troubling things. Today, it told me I don’t have to workout, I should take a break, I should focus on what’s bothering me. Thankfully I have a wife who knows better. We pushed play, got ourselves moving, and by the time we got to about 15 minutes in, I said, “I’m so glad we’re doing this workout.” That heavy chest feeling was gone, and it hasn’t been back since.

I guess I’m glad I got to workout today, because my day started off in a troubling place. I guess I’m glad I was able to pick myself up, because honestly, the day has gone much better than I ever anticipated it going. I’m grateful.

—

Update on 2B Mindset

• Four days in and I have to make a point to drink more Water First before eating. I’ve been drinking a minimum of 200 ounces of water each day, but I want to time it better to fill me up more.
• I am really enjoying Veggies Most. My wife made sesame chicken last night and I asked her to make enough of the sauce so we could have it on broccoli. I filled 2/3 of my plate with the broccoli, about 1/4 with chicken, and the rest with rice. So satisfying. For lunch, I had a bowl of peppers, carrots, and mushrooms with hummus and guacamole. So refreshing on a hot day. Breakfast this morning was two scrambled eggs atop half an English muffin loaded with caramelized onions and sauteed peppers and mushrooms, along with a couple of pieces of feta. What a texture and flavor treat!
• The Scale has been a highlight of the morning, even this morning when it showed a .3 gain. The idea is that the scale is a tool, not for judgement, but for figuring out what works for your body. I ate a later dinner last night and had a snack that was probably too carb heavy. (Side note: it was these awesome Banana Oat muffins from Cookie & Kate that I made for my son because he loves cupcakes. I modify by using less sweetener and adding veggies, because heavens forbid he would ever try one off his plate, or anyone else’s for that matter! This latest batch was my most ambitious. I put carrots and zucchini in. I guess when you also throw in some chocolate chips, you don’t notice!)
• Tracking has been a mostly faithful exercise – if you bite it, you write it. However I do need to do a better job of putting specific amounts. Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’re taking.

A Mindset of Gratitude Makes Everything Better

At the risk of sounding hyperbolic, the global pandemic has affected literally every person on this planet. As a teacher in one of the hardest – if not the hardest – hit areas of the United States, I had students whose parents and grandparents contracted Covid-19, and in our school there were far too many children who lost parents to the horrid disease. Family members of mine suffered through it, thankfully coming out healthy. Friends and coworkers have also been sick.

The details, effects, and news are unavoidable unless you live under a rock. On a personal level, my son no longer gets to go to his favorite places: the library, the gym, the park, Trader Joe’s, or Costco. Even though he is only two, he knows these places are closed, and talks about it often. All three kids have had their have had their social lives upended and our older ones both missed out on the pageantry and pomp of graduations this year. Working from home as a teacher, with a wife who is also a teacher, while raising a 2-year old was not only challenging, it was virtually impossible. Being unable to see our family as often or as unrestrictedly as we would takes an emotional toll. In short, although throughout this pandemic life has been good to us, it’s also been hard.

This isn’t a complaint. I don’t even pretend that we have it rough. All of our problems and issues, while they are problems and issues, pale in comparison to what so many others have had to deal with. I can say this with no irony or qualms because of the gradual shift in my mindset about life. It’s bearing out to be true that everything happens for a reason. Let me explain.

This February, my parents, my family, and my sister’s family got to go to Disney World together. We had planned toward this trip for years, and I personally took the reins on the finer details of it. Excitement was building everyday as we headed toward our departure date. A few days before my family and my sister’s family left for Florida, my parents flew down with the intention of crossing the state to see friends before meeting us in Orlando.

A couple of days before we left, my mom called me from Florida and asked me if I was driving. It was an unusual, but unsuspicious question. I wasn’t. Then she asked if I was sitting. I started to sense a problem. I was. Then she dropped an absolute bomb of horrible news. My uncle had unexpectedly passed away. I yelled into the other room where my wife was, and before I knew it, I was sobbing uncontrollably. My uncle was a wonderful man, and he and I had always had a special bond. His unexpected death was a major gut punch to everyone. He left behind a wife, two adult children, and three grandchildren. Like everyone else, they all adored him.

My mom returned from Florida that night. The next morning we went to his funeral. And a couple of days later, we were up at 3:00 am for a flight to the so-called “Happiest Place on Earth.” What a whirlwind of emotions.

It was, however, on this trip, that I learned something very important, and that is the power of gratitude. How thankful we all were to be able to share in this incredible trip together, given the tragedy that had befallen our family only days before. Framing that trip, as best I could, with that lens of gratitude really made it all the more enjoyable. I certainly didn’t take for granted that our family could all be together in such a magical way.

When we returned from Disney World, we went back to work. At this point the pandemic was becoming more of an issue but still seemed a world away on the western coast of the U.S. But days passed, and things worsened. My son turned 2, and two days later, we celebrated his birthday at home with family, pizza, and ice cream cake. The next day, it was announced schools were closed indefinitely, and we went into lockdown. The life we knew was over. Not one month before, we were in Disney World, carefree and naive. The day before, my entire family was in our house. Now, we were home, on our own, isolated from family, friends, school, work, and everything normal that we had always taken for granted. Another gut punch!

I had an opportunity once the lockdown started to do one of two things: dwell on it and make it awful or seize it as time we might never have again. Along with being able to spend more time with my wife, Jaime, and children – time that otherwise doesn’t exist when we’re all running in our own directions and being shuttled around – I have found meditation to be an effective tool for me to cultivate gratitude.

I look at it this way: I can choose to dwell on everything horrible in this world or I can choose to be grateful for everything wonderful. I’ve never been an anxious person, but I haven’t always been the most positive, either. Starting each day with a meditation puts me in the right mindset to enjoy the day, no matter what comes.

If you haven’t meditated before (and I’m a total noob, myself), let me just give a short rundown of how I’ve begun dabbling. I started with ten minute guided meditations I found on YouTube. As I did those, I realized I wanted more, so I bumped up to 20 minutes. The key is to have a quiet place where you won’t be disturbed. For me, it’s the basement at 5:30 in the morning, earbuds in, Jaime respecting my time, and all 3 kids and the dog snoozing away. The 20 or so minutes I spend in my own head and body without any distractions is sacred and fantastic.

I always had a weird feeling about meditation. This came from a place of ignorance and lack of knowledge (don’t those two always go hand in hand?) Basically, when you do a guided meditation, you close your eyes and position yourself comfortably, focus on your breathing, and listen to a luxuriously calming voice walk you through some thoughts and visualizations of yourself and nature. It really is an incredible tool.

On the days I am really focused and not distracted by my own thoughts, the experience is always uplifting and gives me drive to live the day as positively and gratefully as possible. Some mornings, if I’m not well-enough rested or I have a lot of jumbled thoughts, it’s harder to find clarity – but at least there’s something.

Through meditating I have been able to focus on who I am at my core, which is a positive person. I am learning that things don’t happen to me, but around me. I have learned that there is gratitude to be found in every possible situation. It’s a truly liberating and transcendental mindset to know that my life is absolutely wonderful and there is always, always, always so much to be grateful for.

These are some of my favorite guided meditations if you’re interested in getting started.

Open the Magic Book – 26 mins (helps you find answers to your deepest questions)

The Wishing Well of Abundance – 15 mins (short and sweet, and always leaves me smiling)

Mindfulness Meditation – 20 mins (just being aware, very powerful)

There are really so many out there. You may find some don’t work for you, but that’s no problem. Read the comments on the videos and you’ll see you’re not the only one.

I would love to read about how this goes for you, so please leave a comment to share!

 

Getting into 2B Mindset

Once upon a time, I sat alone in my apartment, a carefree bachelor with endless hours to devote to any pursuit I desired. And when this blog was conceived, those pursuits very often focused on fitness. I logged food diligently into my online nutrition tracker, meticulously watching numbers to make sure I had a balance of everything I needed to. I randomly threw my feet up on the dresser to do 20 incline pushups throughout the day. I ran, ran, and ran some more, training everyday to achieve personal bests in miles, speed, and races. It was a simpler time, and the results were impressive. When my journey started, I tipped the scales at 214 pounds. At my leanest, I was down to 164.

Since then, so much life has happened. I have been beyond blessed and continue to be. I married the most wonderful woman, who entrusted me with the shared care of my two stepchildren. We moved into a beautiful house that we love. One month later, my son, who is my best buddy in the world, was born. Three months after that, we adopted a feisty black lab puppy who still tries to wrench my shoulder out on walks two years later. All in all, it’s been a wonderful journey. I can’t complain about anything. My family has been healthy and Gd willing, will continue to be.

But, with all that life has come a lot less time. My commute to and from work was 15 minutes back then. Now, it’s over an hour each way. The time I once had to dedicate to anything I wanted is now very often dedicated to family, house, and dog duties. And with three kids in the house, there’s no shortage of crap to eat, plates to help clear, and opportunities to be sedentary because it can be very tiring!

It’s not to say I’m not healthy anymore. My wife and I wake up every morning at 5:00 am to work out together and start the day off healthy. Pandemic life has given us the opportunity to walk more. But my results don’t reflect my effort, and it’s because of my eating. I’m not at rock bottom like I was way back when, but I need to do a better job eating healthy. It’s necessary. For my health and my ability to be the best I can be for my family, I need to carry myself in such a way that I maximize myself to the fullest health potential. The excuses? No more.

Today, I committed to improving myself by adopting, happily, the 2B Mindset. Admittedly, I have not even finished Ilana Muhlstein’s book, You Can Drop It!. But having finished the first 3 chapters, I already feel like my head is in a better place than it has been. Again, this isn’t to say I’ve been shoving down ice cream every night, or eating a pound of spaghetti in a sitting. But my relationship with food is not a healthy one. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean I need to eat it.

I am excited to listen to sensations of fullness to warn me off overeating and mindless consumption. Drinking water before eating really does help. The opportunity to eat tons of veggies is exciting. I can shove them into my shakes, snack on crunchy, sweet carrots, and gobble down a delicious plateful of zucchini noodles. I’m excited to discover more about the foods I need, gladly pushing aside the ones I want. Really, is there any reason for two bowls of Raisin Bran topped with mixed nuts at 9:30 at night?

I do believe the 2B Mindset program is wonderfully novel in that it teaches you a way of thinking and being as opposed to a way of doing. I am glad I won’t need to avoid things, but that I will want to anyway.

I’m entering into this excitement with my wife, Jaime, and sister, Ilena. However, we would also love the support of those of you who are already living the mindset. Won’t you follow along this exciting journey with me?

This little man is one of my biggest reasons to be healthy.

Another Post About Getting Back To It

Seems like most of the posts I write recently have a common theme: I was out of it, now it’s time to get back into it. And so, this post is more of the same.

First, let me start with a Happy New Year. I finished out 2014 pretty much doing no kind of running – just some walking here and there and the NYRR Jingle Bell Jog at the beginning of December. That race was all kinds of festive. Check out the elf hat I got for my donation to their charity and the compression socks we got instead of a race shirt.

I couldn’t even claim the award for “Most Ridiculously Dressed.”

Later that month, I would volunteer at my first race: bag check at a Central Park 15K on a cold day. It was actually more fun than I anticipated. I fulfilled my requirements for guaranteed entry into this year’s NYC Marathon, got a shirt (even though it’s too big), and reaped the benefits of the runners’ appreciation.

The knee issue I developed in October’s half marathon lingers on, but thankfully, with time, it has become almost a thing of the past. I’ve been using the stairs more, and believe it or not, that seems to be helping. Most importantly, though, I’m again more conscious of how much I eat and I’m starting to work running back into my life.

Though I spent much of the early part of the day out with my sister and energetic toddler niece, I was inspired to get out for a run once I got home in the afternoon. It was certainly crisp outside, but the sunshine and blue sky were too much to pass up. I pulled on my candy cane compression socks, layered a couple of shirts, covered my bald dome and wrapped a bandana around my neck and headed out. It felt great to move. So great, in fact, that my tentatively planned two miles became three and became four. And since I ran straight out, I left myself no choice but to have to walk back.

Out of the slowly dipping sun, it was quite cold walking back. I was torn about how direct a route I should take home, but the movements in my stomach that kept coming on sharply told me I better pick the quickest way back. On the way, between pangs, I was able to enjoy my sportstalk radio (and I don’t even care about hockey), as well as the unique scenery of the winter’s twilight hours.

By the time I got a bit past this picture, I was beginning to consider drastic measures with regards to my stomach issues, and none of them were, by my estimate, legal. Panic wouldn’t help my cause, but turning sooner than I planned and cutting through the park would.

I don’t know if the park’s bathroom was open, but with the frigid temperature, I’m not sure I would have availed myself of the opportunity to use it, either. Soon I was on the main (and final) street home, and, damn it, the walk wasn’t getting me there fast enough. I decided to go for it and wound up running the last .5 mile home, at which point I continued running – to the bathroom to take care of everything.

The 4+ miles ran today mark my most on a recreational run since who knows when. That’s a good thing. That I’m pain-free (no jinxes) is an even better thing. There is a lot on my running plan plate this year, starting with my goal of running at least 4 of NYRR’s borough races (Queens 10K, Bronx 10-Mile, Staten Island Half, and soonest on the calendar, Brooklyn Half). I’m also within the window of deciding whether to cash in my guaranteed entry to the NYC Marathon in November, a decision I must make by mid-February (can I get a “Yikes” from the congregation?).

Today’s run was a great one: crisp, comfortable, enjoyable, and relaxing. I have to aim for more of them if my 2015 is going to be as special as it can be.

My Running Log: Race Recap – NYRR Dash to the Finish Line 5K

Well, that half marathon really took a lot out of me. I ran two miles once after it and before my next race (October 26). I’ve been dealing with knee soreness. I’m neither as young nor as fit as I was.

I didn’t recap the October 26 race, so here’s a condensed version. First off, it was touch and go whether I’d even be able to do compete in it. Since the half, my knee had really been barking. Since I work on the third floor of a school with no elevator, every time I was on the stairs was a reminder that something was off. Still, race day came, and I wanted to run. Even though I had originally intended to really push to finish in the top 3 of my age group, I knew that with my lack of training it wasn’t going to happen. Once the horn sounded, there was no knee issue at all. It was a gorgeous day to run, and rather than compete for a prize, I found myself competing with another runner with whom I traded places four times on the course. My plan all along was to lay in the grass until the final hill that charges into the finish. When we hit it, I took off ahead of him and passed another guy, too. But I gave too much too soon. Before I knew it, just yards from the finish, there he was taking position over me again. It was a sprint to the end, and the better runner – him – won. I went over to him right away to congratulate him, but in my head I said that next year would be different.

My knee felt great the rest of the day, but the next morning, it reminded me of my folly. Marginal improvements took place over the course of the week, and by yesterday, I felt rested and ready to roll again, just in time for one of my favorite races on the calendar, the NYRR Dash to the Finish Line.

Every race is a dash to the finish, you say. This one is unique. Held annually on the day before the NYC Marathon, it gives runners of all stripes – many of whom complete the Marathon the next day – the chance to run through midtown Manhattan and cross the Marathon finish line after 3.1 miles. It’s unique for it’s flavor and energy. There is truly nothing like running through Manhattan, passing the Chrysler Building, Grand Central Terminal, Radio City Music Hall, and ending in the park. Because of its proximity to the Marathon, it also draws runners from around the world. In the corrals prior to start, one meets runners from (and hears the mellifluous languages and accents of) Great Britain, Germany, Denmark, Austria, Australia, New Zealand and more, along with those of us locals who love running our city.

Last year, it took quite a while to progress from the starting corrals to the start line. It was unexpected and annoying, but also manageable because, although chilly, it was a beautiful sunny day. There were fewer runners this year and I was in a higher seeded corral, so there was less waiting. This worked out well because, for the first time in my running career (probably about 40 races), it rained on race day.

It was a cold and wet start, for sure. Only about 1/4 mile in, looking at the Chrysler Building, I felt the first twinge in my knee. Momentarily, I thought of stopping and walking, but I couldn’t. In the back of my mind, I figured the next day would bring me suffering, but I chose to focus on the enjoyment of running instead.

The rain was alternately light and steady, and it slicked the streets. Near Grand Central, I said, “Screw it,” and pulled off my hood to let the rain hit my face and head. I didn’t feel like I labored at all. I just ran.

The atmosphere was awesome. With the lights and runners reflected in the street, with the international flags waving, with the spectators cheering beneath the skyscrapers and autumn trees, it was a special sight.

Two miles in, we entered Central Park. Last year, the street was so densely packed, it became difficult to move. This year, though, a considerably thinner group of runners allowed for a much more pleasurable experience. I had forgotten about the excitement I felt when I saw the first true indicator that I was running through the same final mile that the marathoners would one day later: a large banner overhead indicating mile 25 on the course.

Soon, I removed my headphones here and let myself pretend I was a marathoner. Before long, the noise of the finish line came on as a steadily growing din. Soon thereafter it was crowd noise and distinguishable music. It’s a dramatic finish on this course, with all the international flags flapping in the breeze and a huge finish line with video screens and history looming.

I finished about a minute off of last year’s mark. It’s no surprise. I’ve been running slower this year than last anyway. My knee felt okay and feels decent today.

For two straight years now, I’ve crossed the NYC Marathon finish line. Only thing is, neither time did I do it as one of the 50,000 runners who compete in the legendary, iconic race.

So, now, having watched the event this morning and been reminded about how exciting it is to me every year, the question is renewed: Will I enter myself in the NYC Marathon in 2015?

It’s a tempting proposition. Right now, I am drunk with the glitz and glamour of having a perfect fall day in New York, seeing the city as I never have, taking part in the spiritual runner’s rite of a marathon, finishing my first right in my backyard. In the coming days, weeks, and months, I’ll more seriously consider the commitment necessary to achieving such an accomplishment, and, maybe I’ll seriously look into resources that can help me, like a coach, trainer, or running clubs.

I know there’s nothing like the sea of humanity streaming through the streets of New York, the runners owning the city for the day, and cementing memories for a lifetime. Perhaps it’s time I joined them.

---

Distance: 3.32 miles (official 5K)

Time: 27 minutes, 58 seconds (officially 27 minutes, 33 seconds)

Splits: 

Looking ahead: Inspired by the Marathon, I went out for a 1 mile run this afternoon. It’s probably the first time in nearly two months I’ve run on consecutive days. I decided to keep the run brief so I can keep my knee feeling good. I iced it for a bit when I got back in and I’m hoping for the best. I have no races booked until December, but I want to get at least a couple in before then, so let’s see what I do.

My Running Log: Race Recap – NYRR Staten Island Half Marathon

Well, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?

I last posted a blog on this site exactly one month ago. Wouldn’t you know that was also the last time I put on my running shoes and hit the pavement. Awful, isn’t it?

I have no acceptable excuses. I was perfectly healthy this last month, certainly capable of running. The weather was mild and runnable. The only thing lacking was my motivation. Having a half marathon looming on my calendar didn’t motivate me anymore. Instead, with being back at work and all the effort that goes into that, I found myself looking at running as a chore. And so, instead of running, I sat. That I was running purely for training purposes thoroughly sapped any momentum and joy I may have previously enjoyed. Days turned into weeks, which turned into a full month off from running.

Every now and then, I told myself I was setting myself up for an issue. I’d still be doing the half, sure, but what right did I have? My rationalization became this: My longest run in this training was 10 miles. Never mind that it was five weeks ago. I could manage another three for the half.

Cue LoL.

So today, that fateful date with my first half marathon arrived. I finished it all right. The day was not without significant folly, worry, sadness, and joy.

Here’s a three-part recap.

Part One: Getting to the Half is Half the Battle

There’s no convenient way to get from my home to Staten Island. You’re either shlepping over the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge via the BQE or Belt Parkway, or you’re taking a train, subway, and ferry.

The parking situation sounds bleak, so the decision is made to go via public transportation. I’m up at 4:45 and my running partner arrives before 5:30 am so we can walk the mile to catch the 5:56 train. The ride will be followed by a half-hour subway ride to the ferry for a 25-minute ride across New York Harbor to the starting line.

It’s a comfortable early morning walk, sure. But 5:56 comes and goes, and the train doesn’t. The tickets are already purchased, and our research on the smartphone indicates the only trains around 5:56 either already came through at 5:26 or won’t return until 6:26. We won’t be able to make a ferry in time to get to the start, so we’re kind of screwed.

After a few minutes of discussing options – a taxi, chancing a late arrival, saying “Screw it” – we decide to hightail it back to my car. Of course, my car keys are upstairs, so I have to run the last of the distance to get upstairs and back down so we can go. Waze says it will take 40 minutes, which will leave us plenty of time to look for parking that NYRR warned us doesn’t exist.

Once in the vicinity of the race, it’s about 7:15, and I find an absolutely perfect spot with the packet pickup within spitting distance. “Huh,” I wonder, “Why wouldn’t anyone grab this spot?” Plenty of cars are parked on this street, which turns out to be part of the course. I exit the vehicle, and a cop pulls up and says I might want to move the car or I will be towed. I opt to move it.

Now the fun starts: there’s not a spot to be had. Of course, on every side street, spots are disappearing just as I get onto the blocks. One of the lots promoted by NYRR is already full, so we’re stuck sitting with no place to go. Finally, we get ourselves (after many wrong turns) to a parking garage. The $8 it will cost is worth the peace of mind, but it’s already 7:47.

One of us needs the bathroom and the line is long, so I rush to pick up bibs and shirts. By the time we’re ready to head toward the start line, it’s 8:15, and corrals are about to collapse for the 8:30 start.

I head up toward my corral and see the obscene pace marker displayed there: 1 hour 55 minutes. HA! Not a snowball’s chance. MAYBE if I kept up my training, breaking two hours would be a goal with a real possibility, but at this point I’ve reduced myself to setting the goal of just finishing. So I drop back about 3,000 numbers and tell myself to take my damn time and just get this thing done.

This was a nice view to start the race. I wouldn’t see it again for over two hours.

I’m shaking in the cold before the start. Ten minutes after an FDNY fireboat launches the race, it’s finally time for my group to begin the walk and jog to the start line. There’s no turning back now, and not finishing is not an option.

Part Two: From “This Actually Isn’t So Bad” to “What the @#*& Was I Thinking?”

And I’m off. I haven’t planned any music so I’m listening to a playlist that I hope will make me feel warm. I’m just going to take it as it comes, count the miles down, and tell myself that once I get to 10 (my previous longest distance), it’s only a 5K away.

The course isn’t that thrilling, but I always enjoy running in new places. When I was a child, Staten Island was the stinky place with the landfills in which I held my nose as we drove to summer vacations on the Jersey shore. Still, it’s part of NYC, and the thought of running my first half in my city was a major factor that led to choosing this one. How times have changed.

At three miles, I’m feeling good, going faster than I thought. There’s no plan time-wise or split-wise. I really don’t know what to expect from myself. I tell myself a 5K is done. Nice! I still have 10 miles to go. Damn!

Five miles in, I’m going strong. I can keep this up for another eight, can’t I?

Apparently not. I cross the 10K mat, and my next milestone is the 6.5-mile halfway point. Soon, I’ll be turning around and heading onto the back part of the out and back course. I do, and the Verrazano Bridge – symbol of the borough and the NYC Marathon – is on the horizon. It’s not a bad look.

Unfortunately, I’m slowing down. The lack of training has reared it’s head (and rightfully so). Along the course, a number of runners on the sidelines stretching or punching their unwilling legs back to usefulness. Thankfully, I’m still mobile, but I’m adding significant time as I go on.

A little after seven miles, I notice what appears to be a group of runners trying to reconnoiter so they can run together. There’s a lot of waving from behind and in front. My music is on, but the closer I get to those ahead of me, the better I can hear. It’s not a group of friends trying to get together. It’s a group of frenzied strangers screaming, “HELP! HELP!”

Someone must be hurt, I think. But as I get even closer, I see that a man is collapsed on the course. I bolt onto the median to run for a cop, screaming for someone to come, and I’m relieved to see that one is running in my direction and to the troubled man.

What do I do now? I can’t help in any way, but is it disrespectful to run ahead? I’m fearing the worst and hoping for the best. I leave an earbud out and continue. I don’t know what else to do.

After what seems like a long time, emergency vehicles start heading in the direction opposite me to help this man. I’ll think about him the rest of the day. Only as I write this post do I finally find out some information about him. The poor man was without a pulse and wasn’t breathing. Thankfully, he was revived by an officer. He’s in critical condition at the hospital tonight.

It reminds me now, thinking back, about what I was thinking prior to even seeing this tragedy. Half marathons are not tests of speed, at least at my level. They are tests of endurance. The human body has an incredible capacity, but it can’t be forgotten how potentially dangerous the sport of running can be, no matter how healthy one is. This is not something one should roll out of bed and attempt. You have to respect the training process. I didn’t, and I was fortunate to be okay.

Feeling funny, I continue on my own personal journey to the finish line. I’m confused, though, about my role. I wonder if I’ll be able to smile when I cross the finish line. I wonder how NYRR will acknowledge this tragedy. I hope for the best and keep going.

I’ve been munching on dried bananas and dates since about mile four, washing them down with coconut water (just for flavor’s sake). But it’s not enough, and I start stopping at fluid stations. I don’t want to stop running, but I’m not going to risk it after what I witnessed. I suck down Gatorade and allow myself to walk while I drink it. Then it’s back to running. I’ll do this for 5 of the last 6 miles. Despite it all, when I finish, I notice salt streaks are caked on my face.

It’s such a gorgeous day, and I can’t ask for better weather to (I hope) get back to running.

The second half of this race is considerably more taxing on me than the first. The slight incline at one stretch brings me to my slowest speed of the day. As the mileage on my legs increase, my lower body’s protests grow louder and more pointed. My left ankle issue has resurfaced after months away from me. My lower back is barking. My knees are creaking. My groin aches. My heels sting. I’m not the only one gritting my teeth at points, and plenty of people pass me by.

I don’t care, though. Failing to finish is not an option. At 12 miles, I stop for fluids one more time. It will be the last stop I make, and I slam the cup into the garbage and tell myself to get this done.

My mind at this point is blank. I just want to finish. I had been under the misguided impression that this race was mostly waterfront. Not so, in fact. But as I near the end, the water and Manhattan are back in view.

Ahead of me, I can see people running down a ramp, and I momentarily think that’s where I’m heading. Turns out I’m half right: the 13-mile mark is down the second ramp. As I turn down, I can’t believe I’m on the verge of finishing a half marathon.

It’s time to better soak in the atmosphere, so I remove my earbuds. There are a lot of spectators cheering, and the public address announcers are enthusiastic despite having been bringing home finishers for close to 2 hours and 30 minutes.

The finish line is in sight. I momentarily think I might cry, but I don’t: too cliche. I put my arms up so I can finally get a picture taken of me actually looking at the camera.

I’m surprised by my reaction as I cross the finish line. Thirteen-point-one miles are in the books, and I’ve never run more than 10.08 at a time. I pump my fist, leap up, and scream, “YEAH!” Next time I can do better, but it’s no insignificant accomplishment.

Part Three: Here’s What Happens When You Don’t Respect the Process

Now that my race is over, I’m gauging my ability to walk. I slowly move to the refreshments and down three cups of Gatorade, a cinnamon raisin bagel, and an apple. For the next 30 minutes I try to figure out how to bend my knees. I see others stretching and I’m envious. I can barely even think of it without the soreness overwhelming me. After trying some of my old high school P.E. class stretches, and failing, I decide to stand up and watch others come down the finishing chute. There is considerable pain in the backs of my knees. Eventually, I figure out that squatting down as low as I can go gives me some relief. The more I do this, the more nimble I feel. I climb onto the guard rail to do some calf raises. I’m returning to normal.

As the announcers spout on, they take an informal poll of who just completed their first half marathon. I’m proud to raise my hand to indicate I did.

Though the process leading up to today wasn’t respected and followed as properly as it should be, the fact remains that I’ve finished my first half marathon. Whether that makes me half crazy or fully crazy is hard to say at this point.

As I write and reflect this evening, I’m sorer than I’ve ever been from running, having trouble walking, and suffering from some GI distress. At the same time, plans are being discussed about when the next half marathon will be.

I told you the whole experience ranged in emotions. My number one concern remains with that man who collapsed on the course and I hope he recovers as fully as possible. Because of him, I feel blessed to have been able to finish.

I’m proud to have accomplished a goal I’ve had since last year. I enjoyed the race, despite the pain, because I didn’t put any pressure on myself other than to finish. Now that I know I can do it, I want to do it again – only better.

---

Distance: 13.26 miles

Time: 2 hours, 15 minutes, 46 seconds (unofficial) Officially: 2 hours, 15 minutes, 22 seconds

Splits: 

Looking ahead: We’ll see when I can walk right again, let alone run!