So far my weight loss tool kit hasn't been all that interesting. The internet? Been there, doing that. A medical scale? Woo-hoo! OK, I get it. How about something with a little more oomph? How about a little appliance that packs 1500 watts of grind-your-fingers-to-a-bloody-stump power?

2. Blender


This is a blender I can get excited about. Now, I'm not going to try to blend up a set of kettlebells or anything like what they do on WillItBend but I am going to put this powerhouse through it's paces while introducing some of the other items that have helped me lose weight. I plan on using the Blendtec over the next week and report on whether or not I really need a blender this powerful. My initial impressions are pretty good as it already has been helpful in eliminating an embarrassing side effect of less-powerful blenders... "hobo teeth".

While it may look like I've been neglecting myself in the dental hygiene department, all I've really been doing is drinking my usual after-workout smoothie. My usual blender mixes things up enough to drink but it leaves things like berry skins and other stuff in fairly large chunks. Not too large where they can't be swallowed and digested but large enough to get stuck between my teeth and show off to clients an friends. With the Blendtec, people are actually smiling back rather than looking away or, worse, launching into some elaborate game of charades as they try to alert me to the chunks wedged between my teeth rather than actually coming out and telling me.

Next time, I'll continue testing the blender and show you what I'm loading into it that has helped me drop the pounds.

"Arsenal" may be a tad strong. Eloquence was never my forté. How about this: "Stuff I use on a daily basis in my effort to lose weight and increase my fitness level." The thing is, with 10 pounds to lose during the next 5 weeks, I may well need an arsenal.

I'm a guy who likes to develop a routine and then stick to it. Once I've figured out what I'm going to do I continually work on refining each step in terms of effectiveness and flow. The internet and a tremendous collection of individuals with similar interests and aspirations has been a tremendous help in refining many areas of my life in providing inspiration to supplement the limitless information that has helped me achieve many of my personal goals.

What I'm fumbling about with here is that, as far as my "tool kit" or "arsenal" is concerned, I consider the internet and more specifically a subset of diet and self-improvement bloggers to be my "tool crib" or "weapon depot". OK, OK- it's first the place I go to get the information and stuff I need to lose weight better... and stuff. Talking good (er, speaking well) will top my list of goals in the near future. You're welcome.

Moving on...

Besides the internet, there are several things I use daily that have been indispensable in my efforts. That's what these next few installments are all about. Here we go with tool numero uno:

1. Scale
Not just any scale but the kind you'd find at the doctor's office. I'm talking about the mechanical beam one with the little weights that you slide to the left or right to make the little needle on the end go up and down until it's centered just-so. Now, you can get any kind of fancy-smancy digital-laser guided-fat-sensor-audible-warning-and-wifi-ipod-dock-sock-warmer scale you want but I believe there's nothing like old-school beam, weights and fulcrum for accuracy and dependability. Electronics may get sketchy and springs may lose their... er... springiness but gravity remains constant (gravity remains constant- get it? Ha! Sometimes I just nerd myself right-the-hell-out).

Here's a something you can do with it: Weigh yourself at the beginning of the week then decide on an achievable goal (future weight and date by which you will achieve it). Continue to step on the scale every day before you work out EXCEPT BEFORE YOU DO, set the scale at your goal-weight. You won't know your exact weight but you'll know whether or not you've achieved your objective. Rather than a number, the objective becomes making that needle drop. It's now a red light/green light, visual kind of thing. If the needle stays perched at the top, go hit the machines; if it drops below center, grab a donut. (OK, I'm kidding about the donut.) Once the needle hits bottom it's time to set a new goal.

The balance beam scale isn't all that exciting but it is something I use every day. Tomorrow I'll introduce a device that is as powerful as it is awesome.

Happy Obscure Reference Tuesday!

"Relax, all right? My old man is a television repairman, he's got this ultimate set of tools. I can fix it."
- Jeff Spicoli, Fast Times At Ridgemont High

Now there's a recipe for disaster; a stoner with television repair tools trying to fix a wrecked car. As you may remember from the movie, he never did use his father's tools and ultimately "fixed" the situation by making the car even worse and then blamed the whole mess on someone else. There are some really obvious lessons to learn here.

1. Don't make stupid choices in the first place. Taking drugs and getting behind the wheel of an aggressive jock's prized set of wheels is a high-risk/low-reward scenario that will most likely end up with someone getting hurt. Regularly sitting on the couch in front of the television with a super-sized order of grease & carbs from your local fast-food joint will ultimately put me in the hospital- or Guinness' Book of World Records.

2. Don't blame someone else for my own mistakes. Ridgemont may have won the football game but Charles Jefferson was still out one sweet ride- and a whole lot of anger was vented on an innocent party. Good times, indeed! C'mon, it was just wrong.

3. Use the right tools for the job. I don't care how stoned you are, you're never going to straighten the frame and take the dents out of a wrecked car with a pair of needle-nose pliers and a voltmeter. Restoring the human body requires the proper tools as well. That's what I'm going cover over the next several installments; the right tools for achieving and maintaining proper weight and good health.

The first two lessons are something I should have learned from the cuts, bruises, and embarrassment of childhood. The third is something I'm continuously learning during my return from obese to fit. There are some really great tools available that have increased my overall awareness and have hastened my restoration. I would say that I probably might never have lost any weight at all without them.

Over the next couple of weeks I am going to push a little harder and increase my focus and resolve. My goal is to lose ten (10) pounds by September 30th. That's five (5) weeks from today. That may not seem like a lot for a guy who's already lost 153 pounds but I can tell you that while it is simple, it's not easy.

It's all about attitude and applying the right tools, so for this task I'm going to leave the needle-nose pliers and the voltmeter in the garage and bring out some truly appropriate and effective tools for the job. I'll be introducing them with each entry on my website; why they're chosen and how they're used. Stay tuned!

Right now I'm curious about what it is that you can't live without-- those things that have improved your life or helped you achieve your goals. Please let me know, I may need to add a few items to my kit.

OK, my apologies for rattling the old skeletons in my attic closet. I forget that no one wants to hear about all the crud that stuck to my shoes as I trudged through adolescence. Funny. That reminds me of the time when...

Moving on.

The last two entries on this website belabored a very simple concept that well, changed my life. By simply paying attention to what I was eating, how much I was eating, and how often I was eating it, I've been able to get myself back on track- eating right and losing weight. Had I applied it in every aspect of my existence from the day I learned this valuable lesson, I probably would have never gained all the weight I did. As they say, "Hindsight is like 20 kicks in the pants."

Here's another one. I lived in some fairly uncomfortable and inconvenient places while I was growing up. OK- no stories here. I won't mention anything about a 12-year-old boy laying in the dirt and mud with a transmission from a '67 vega on his chest, or being left to clean fish while mosquitos- swarming so thick that I looked like one of those idiots who covers themselves with bee pheromones for one of those "man with the bee beard" stunts that no one really cares about but can't look away because, my gawd, he's got a beard made of bees and that's just nuts, and how they were biting my eyelids and getting stuck in my tears and my dad wouldn't let me come inside until I was done and then only if I brought him a beer and...

Nope, not a word about any of that.

What I'm eventually getting at here is that discomfort, if I'm paying attention, is a pretty effective motivator. I mean really, if the temperature isn't just right in the room, I'm motivated to adjust the thermostat. If there's something on TV that I don't want to watch, I get up and dig through the sofa cushions to find the remote so I can change the channel. You know, big stuff like that.

Then there are the little things. That little, almost inaudible grunt of discomfort I was making whenever I bent over to pick something up. The uncomfortable bloat of eating too much pizza. The discomfort of cramming myself into dress slacks to attend a social gathering. The discomfort of being the biggest guy in the room. The discomfort of feeling the looks from other guest as I approached the appetizer table. The uncomfortable rumble of my stomach when I cut several thousand calories from my daily diet. The discomfort I felt as I started walking farther and farther each day. The ache of my muscles after working out. The discomfort of being sweaty and winded after a morning at the gym. Discomfort motivating me to do more and more so that I can experience the elation of stepping on the scale this morning and seeing it register a loss of two more pounds since the last time I stepped on it.

For many, life is all about seeking comfort- a comfortable pair of shoes, a comfortable living, a comfy chair. I now thrive on discomfort. It motivates me to do more than I have before- to move my thermostat past the comfort zone and towards a better me.

Entrecard:

This entry is the psuedo-scintillating and hardly anticipated conclusion to the flashback to my misspent youth from yesterday's entry (see below).

The days between my meeting with the police officer from the neighboring small town and my day in court were a fun-filled blur of high-octane tomfoolery and teenage hijinx- mostly just cruising, hanging out and driving fast. Woohoo!

Traffic court was this crowded circus-like affair that seemingly ran all day. In reality there were two sessions; morning and evening. I was scheduled for the evening session, which was great because it gave my friends and I time to grab some food after work before making our way to the courthouse. We opted for the drive-through at McDonalds and loaded up on Big Macs and milkshakes to cram down our gullets on the way over. Big Macs and milkshakes were not the best thing for me, I know, but I really wasn't paying attention to my nutritional requirements. I was an idiot. Good times.

It was with full bellies that my friends and I slid onto one of the wooden benches reserved for those who would be judged and those who like to watch that sort of thing. The place was packed; I guess there was some kind of judicial promotion going on and I was lucky enough to be part of it. And what a rambunctious crowd! They were all laughing and carrying on- it was like they had moved everyone out of the drunk tank or something. Party-on!

The tone changed a little when the judge walked in. Everyone stood as he entered and sat when he did. A mild hush blanketed the room.

After shuffling through a stack of papers, the judge called to the bailiff for the first case. It was me.

I was directed to stand at a podium about fifteen feet away from and several feet lower than the judge's bench. The crowded courtroom was behind me- still twittering happily about whatever they were all happy about. I stood and smiled at the judge, said hello-how-ya-doin' and waited for him to tell me where to pay my $20 fine (typical for my previous offenses).

The judge, a rather youngish-looking guy (for a judge) with thick glasses and longish hair, thumbed though a stack of papers and after several moments looked down at me for what was a very uncomfortable length of time. I looked back, maintained my sheepish smile and tried to stay calm.

"WHAT THE HELL IS IT GOING TO TAKE TO GET YOUR ATTENTION?!?!" he yelled as he simultaneously slammed one hand on his desk and threw the stack of papers towards me.

The hair on the back of my neck stood on end as a chorus of "Oh, shit!" was whisper-hissed behind me. I began to physically melt into a puddle of my own juices.

The judge went on a total rant, mixing expletives and metaphors in tempo with the risings and fallings of his tone; about how irresponsible and dangerous I was. Judging from the dead silence behind me, the party was definitely over. I don't think anyone in the room was even breathing- I'm pretty sure I wasn't. But if sweat made a noise, I would have been screaming.

The judge finally ran out of steam and pronounced sentence; $1,200 fine AND 6 months in jail. Someone behind whispered, "oh shit," again. I was ready to show everyone what I had eaten from McDonalds- it was only a matter of deciding on which orifice evacuation would occur. I was now paying attention.

I didn't know what to do. I stood there and waited for someone to haul me away, lightning to strike me, the judge to shoot me, something- I don't know what. I was lost but I never looked away from the judge. And after an eternity, and with a look I will never forget, he said, "Did I got your attention tonight? I hope I did, because if your are ever in my courtroom again you will go to jail and you will suffer. I guarantee it." He then went on to say that he was suspending the jail time and that the fine was payable to the clerk.

I nearly collapsed.

The fine drained my bank account but I was happy to pay it. After the ordeal I had just gone through, it seemed trivial. What occurred to me though, and the lesson I chose to glean from the experience, was that I really had not been paying attention to anything. I was just cruising through life gratifying immediate whims without regard to impact or consequence- at most I was just throwing money at whatever stood between me and a good time. What an idiot.

So how does that relate to weight gain and/or loss? Why do I thank that judge for part of the success I'm experiencing as I move towards my goals? I think that a lot of the weight I gained over the years was because I just wasn't paying attention. How many times had I sat in front of the TV with a bag of chips or a pint of Ben & Jerry's and, without realizing, both emptied the container and spent the entire evening sitting on my butt doing nothing? I don't know. Probably too many, but I really wasn't paying attention.

I am paying attention now. Paying attention to what, how much, and how often I eat. I am paying attention to how much I move; how far, how fast, how often, and the results I'm getting. I'm paying attention and I'm better-off for it.

Thanks, Judge.

I don't know about some of you but once upon a time, I was an idiot teenager. Now, now, don't get all maternal/paternal on me and poo-poo what you may surmise is feigned self-deprecation. It's true. If Forrest Gump's mom was correct in saying that stupid is as stupid does- well, let's just say I was proof to her pudding. Now, there are sundry examples from several categories of idiocy so, for the sake of time and bandwidth, I'll focus on one little event that lends insight to just what exactly was the root of my malaise.

I loved to drive- fast. Really fast. My friends and I were into muscle cars and we flexed them constantly. I can't tell you how many speeding tickets I acquired during my seventeenth year of life; truth was I really didn't pay attention. Usually going somewhere, anywhere, was an opportunity to test the limits of big-block durability during what the authorities called "high-speed pursuit" in my Dukes of Hazzard-like existence. Back then speeding tickets were cheap and I figured I was paying for school books with all the fine-money I was paying. Good deeds via punishment, yes? It was worth it 'cause Steve had to go fast. Stupid, reckless, idiot teenager.

Well, one day I was ticketed for speeding in this tiny neighboring town. Nothing outrageous, just a dozen or so mph over the limit. The officer was as professional and cordial as all the others I had come to know. He even smiled as he told me I would have to appear in court to take care of my fine. This was unusual (most of the time I would just mail it in) and the lights should have started blinking in the empty expanse of my skull- but they didn't. I really wasn't paying attention. The officer wrote the court date on the ticket, asked for my autograph and went on his way. I waited a few minutes, did an awesome power-braked smoke show and left the little town and two big black stripes from my BFG Radial T/A's behind. I didn't come back until my court date, a week or so later.

You're probably wondering what this little trip down memory lane has to do with weight loss. Amazingly, everything. What happened changed me and dredging it up in my mind just now still affects me. What I learned helped me lose all the weight I've lost so far and will help me achieve the goal I've set for myself before my next birthday.

I'll tell you all about it tomorrow.

I've always maintained that life is all about choice and conditioning; choosing to make changes and conditioning myself to accommodate. Just like water seeking it's own level, my old body seeks to balance itself against whatever choices I've made. If I overeat my body burns what it needs to maintain and then (mostly) stores or (er... "lessly") expels the excess. I'm constantly seeking equilibrium- I eat less than I did 450 days ago so I've lost weight, I'm lifting heavier weights so I'm getting stronger.

Here's the thing though, over the past few weeks I'm beginning to think I've hit some kind of wall. I guess It could be said that my current stats (height, weight, appetite, strength, exercise load, and lifestyle) have reached equilibrium. My equation has balanced and I'm not satisfied with the status quo.

homeostasis (hō'mē-ō-stā'sĭs)
1. the tendency of a system, esp. the physiological system of higher animals, to maintain internal stability, owing to the coordinated response of its parts to any situation or stimulus tending to disturb its normal condition or function.
2. Psychology. a state of psychological equilibrium obtained when tension or a drive has been reduced or eliminated.
-The American Heritage Science Dictionary

Do I feel like #1 and/or #2 (metaphoric and literal pun intended)? Maybe. Don't get me wrong, I think I've made considerable progress in a modest amount of time and I think my current lifestyle has improved greatly. But what happens when everything I do becomes "normal" and I'm no longer progressing toward my goals?

I get frickin' motivated, that's what! Frickin'-A!

That's right, I'm a dork. But I'm also getting excited. Excited that I've got a goal, a destination, and I have the means and I'm motivated, and by gawd I'm going to achieve what I set out to do. It's what I've done so far and seeing it in writing, right here, right now, means that it's going to happen.

Frickin' - A! (I'm such a dork!)

Now bask in the glory that is today's featured blog:

OK, so I'm back from camping and I'm thinking I just can't wait to get back in the swing of things; hitting the gym and working and whatnot. These little wilderness breaks my family take are therapeutic and help us appreciate things like indoor plumbing, clean sheets, HDTV, broadband, and the dreary, soul-crushing experience that is our day-to-day existence back in the real world.

I'm kidding and I kid because I love. Things really aren't that bad- could be better, could be worse; but I don't want to talk about that right now. I want to talk about the consequence of camping food on the ol' diet.

It seems that camping is all about snacking- at least that's how it's been with us. Muffins for breakfast, hotdogs for lunch, hamburgers for dinner, dumpcake for desert, S'mores for after-dessert-dessert. All of it bound by a never-ending stream of chips, cookies, peanuts, candy, gorp, energy bars, and hot cocoa. It's all about carb-loading and mosquitos- or carb-loading mosquitos via transfusion, I dunno, but I do know that I came back with an extra 2 pounds of cargo. I mean flubber, and a new found determination to make the next camping trip more nutritious.

I'm curious about what others pack when they go camping, food-wise. I have another trip planned and need to come up with a menu that is do-able in the woods (no electricity).

I don't know about you but I grew up in a home where we were "compelled" to clean our plates.
Steve v0.8: "May I be excused"
Mom: "You haven't finished your pork renderings and chicken fat"
Steve v0.8: "Ah Mom. Do I hafta?"
Mom: "There are children starving in (insert fictitious country prefix here)-opia and they would love to have even the crumbs from your plate."
Steve v0.8: "Can I mail them the whole thing?"
Mom (scowling): "Hurry and finish or you won't get any dessert!"
Steve v0.8: "Yes Mom."

Even at the age of eight I was aware of starving children in other countries and I would have given them my portion had it been within my means. Hey, I encourage everyone to help in those efforts even to this day. Sally Struthers was one effective pitch-woman for starving children and really curbed my appetite for late-night infomercial-laden television.

The thing is that I was conditioned to clean my plate and whether it was reverence to starving children or for a slab of double-fudge wacky cake, it is a habit I carry with me now. I have to clean my plate. It's just how I was raised and it's something I continue to do unconsciously. Thanks, Mom!

As I grew so did my appetite and cleaning my plate really wasn't a problem so much. Rarely did I miss dessert and I saved a ton of money on postage to (insert fictitious country prefix here)-opia. Turns out that type of conditioning doesn't work so well when you're trying to lose weight.

How about using smaller plates? The idea struck when I was shopping for a camping trip. Paper plates come in a variety of sizes and the smaller ones are cheaper. Easy choice for a tightwad like me, right? We used the smaller plates. I still cleaned my plate (thanks again, Mom! I'm kidding about this; not Mom's fault.) but I ate less. Why not do that at home as well? I'm not talking about commandeering my daughter's tea set but rather switching out our daily-use, American-excess, feeding-trough-sized platters for something a little smaller.

I was at a local restaurant for their lunch buffet (certainly not as economical for me as it once was) and notice that their plates are quite a bit smaller than the ones we have at home. Hmm. Interesting, thought I. The restaurant was probably trying to limit portions at their all-you-can-eat buffet. Hmm. (gears are turning now) Smaller plates equal smaller portions. (porch light is on and brain is pulling into the driveway) Smaller portions equal less calories and fewer calories equal fewer pounds on my tuckus. (lights are on and brain walks in the door) So, smaller plates equal smaller fanny (brain is tired and now distracted by something shiny)!

Is it worth the trip to a restaurant supply store to do something like that? I'm tempted.

Scientists have been working on a drug that's produced increased stamina in lab mice. Seems the treated mice could run 44% farther and 23% longer than untreated mice. The drug is supposed to chemically mimic the effects of exercise according to Ron Evans, the author of the study. The drug is called AICAR.

So I have to ask myself, if I could get all the benefits of exercise just by taking a pill, would I? Should I?

Short answer:

Scientists and savvy marketers are constantly and consistently discovering substances, devices and methods that promise to make me lean and fit while keeping my butt firmly planted in my Lay-Z-Boy. Take a pill? I think I'll pass. The less I put into my body the better.

Shorter answer: No.

There is satisfaction in achievement by virtue of effort. There are other benefits that can be derived from this new drug (such as preventing complications associated with heart bypass surgery), replacing exercise shouldn't be one of them.

Today's awesome distraction of really good stuff:

Summer is moving a little too quickly for me. The realization hit when we were packing up at the end of all too short camping trip recently. I was thinking about how precious the summer months are and how soon fall arrives when you're so sure you'll have time to do all the great stuff you planned while the weather kept you confined indoors and summer was so far away. Man, I'm such a sap-- and really into run-on sentences.

The thing is that there is no time like right now to get up, get out, and go do the things I want and/or need to do. Just freakin' do it. Turn off whatever soul-robbing contraption that has my buttocks mated with my chair and... -click-

And... I'm... Back!

That was awesome! Completely furious workout at the gym this morning. I did a number of different weight routines that reminded me of muscles that hadn't been out to play for a while. I followed that with a run/walk/climb session at the high school stadium. I only ran the circuit three times but hey, I was feeling it. If I were a masochist I'd have been in a steaming lather by the time it was over. I'm not but I was- er... not a masochist but was still in a lather, I mean. Ew, that's starting to sound a little weird. Geez, I'm constantly putting my foot in my mouth. No, not literally. Focus, Steve!

Why the frenetic burst of activity this morning? It seems I have a lot more weight to lose. Thank you scale! Wait, I mean thank you Poppycock! No, that's not quite right either. What I really mean to say is, "Thanks to you, Steve."

"Salty carbs don't bloat people; people consuming mass quantities of salty carbs bloat people."

So this morning I was all about sweating out the Sodium and working off the carbs- and it felt really good. Thank you scale. Thank you indeed.

The thing is, salty-carb-induced-bloat and the waning summer aren't the only reasons for the change-up in activity this morning. It seems like I've hit some sort of wall in my weight loss efforts. So I'm taking some advice from a reliable source in regard to my weight lifting efforts and switching things up a little. More on that later.