Week Off: Fin

I'm going to be perfectly honest with everybody. This post, I'm just going through the motions. I genuinely do not feel like writing. In light of the fact that my Grammie Gordon passed away early Sunday morning, I don't feel it would be appropriate to pretend to be in good spirits, crack dirty jokes, talk tongue-in-cheek about how awesome it is that I'm losing all this weight, etc. So I'm just going to post the regular information, and I'll be back to good form later this week.


The heart and soul of the Gordon family.

*****

After an intense 10-week workout, I took a week off. Didn't pig out too much, but also didn't exercise. And since I'm moving into a new phase of the weight loss, we'll call this my new starting weight, even though next week will count as Week 11.

NEW STARTING WEIGHT - MIDNIGHT, MONDAY, JUNE 28, 2010: 263.7 LBS.
WEIGHT LOST SINCE LAST WEIGH-OUT - 4.0 LBS.
WEIGHT LOST SINCE BEGINNING OF PROGRAM - 38.1 LBS.

This new program, by the way, will see me in the gym twice a week for an intense super-cutting program that combines supersets of many different exercises with five-minute increments of cardio. There will be about four days of cardio-only workouts during the week, and one day off as usual. This is a bit more flexible schedule than I allowed myself in the beginning.

Thanks for understanding, everybody. I'll be back to form soon enough....

Ok...

One joke, what the hell...

How do I feel at this exact moment? On a scale of Olga Sherer to Gilbert Grape's mom, I am definitely a George Lucas: overweight, happy, questionable facial hair, and possibly misguided in my attempt to take something that went amazingly well the first time and trying to improve it by constantly, CONSTANTLY, CONSTANTLY tinkering with it. At least I'm not enlisting a nerdy Canadian kid with no acting ability to play one of the most iconic roles of all time.


Yeah, I'm looking at you, Hayden Christensen...

Week 10: Fin

"This is the dawning of the rest of our lives
On holiday"
~Green Day~

So after ten grueling weeks of diet and exercise, the first leg of my journey is complete.

It started on a sunny day back in mid-April, when a heavily-out-of-shape redhead meandered into a barely-used fitness center and started pumping the iron. In addition, I started on an extremely strict diet of vegetarian meals and water for the first few weeks in an attempt to jump start my weight loss. And for the first few weeks, I stuck to it hard-core. Through the first five weeks, I lost 28.7 lbs., an average of 5.74 lbs. per week. I was on a roll. Two more solid weeks saw another 4.2 lbs come off the frame, at which point I accepted the fact that the long-feared plateau had finally been reached.

Along the way, I passed tests at almost every interval, from eating out to avoiding comfort food to not snacking between meals and so on. In fact, I started to get very comfortable, and maybe even a little greedy. This became glaringly apparent in Week 8, when I gained back 5.7 lbs., bringing my total back to 27.2 lbs. (still not bad at 3.4 lbs. per week). But if I learned one thing during this journey, it's that I don't like having my hard work undone by anything...especially my own lethargy.

In Week 9, I got back on the horse a little bit, but not by much...or so I thought. My workout routine really wasn't much different then in weeks past. Maybe I was curtailing the size of my meals, but really, that was about it. My weight loss for Week 9 was an astounding 11.9 lbs., bringing my total back to 39.1 lbs. (4.34 lbs. per week). I had not taken any especially long trips to the bathroom, and I still can't explain why I lost 4% of my starting weight in one week.

So after 9 weeks, that's where we stand: 39.1 lbs. lighter...1 weigh-in from the future...7 days off from the gym...1 "Hallelujah".

*****

After my Week 9 weigh-out (I like this better than weigh-in, because at least I feel better saying something like, "All my fat's on it's Weigh Out" (c) Chris Gordon), I was ecstatic, and also a bit freakishly obsessed with trying to lose more weight. In fact, I believe the first words out of my mouth were, "Eleven-point-nine pounds? How much do you think I can lose next week?"

Which is where the worry comes in from my family and friends. See, there are certain folk in my life who believe that I am losing the weight too fast, and that this could be detrimental to my health, as well as extremely gross when you factor in how much extra skin I will eventually have.

Well, not quite that bad.

Regardless, I've been told several times that losing too much weight too fast can be bad for you. I'm not trying to be naive, but I just don't see it. Somebody please tell me before I get on the treadmill again and hurt myself.

So when I saw the 11.9 flash on the screen, I was obsessed with getting as close to that number as I could again. And since Week 10 was my last week before a mini-vacation from the gym, I decided to go back to basics: up the weights at the gym, up the speed of the treadmill, go easy on the food, and get back to feeling like I did that first week when I was miserably out of shape and wondering why the hell I even got into this. No music, no television, practically no human contact: just shut up and lose the weight.

And I can say for a fact that I wanted it bad. How bad? Two things happened this week that proved the ultimate test.

1) I fell on the treadmill. I alluded to this earlier this week, but here's the full blow-by-blow. When I run on the treadmill, I tend to drift from side-to-side once in a while. Usually I see this happening and correct myself. For whatever reason, this time I did not. My right foot was then half on the belt and half off the track, and since all my weight was on my right foot for the moment, the belt whipped my foot out from under me. That shot me 90 degrees to my left, where for an awkward second or two I tried to remain upright. When that failed, the belt - whipping under me at exactly 7.0 miles per hour, flung me into the air, where I proceeded to crash hard on my left side. But it doesn't end there, oh no! The belt shot me off into the wall, and since there wasn't a lot of space between the treadmill and the wall, I had to curl into the fetal position while the belt tried to ground about four layers of skin off my back. It hurt, like, a lot. I yelled and swore, shutting off the treadmill for a moment and tried to walk it off. My left arm and leg hurt a lot, but not as much as the treadmill, as I had landed so hard there was now a giant crack near the back of it. Regardless, I had less than a quarter-mile left to run, so I got back up, turned the treadmill on, and ran it out. Old Chris would have never done that. He would have drowned his sorrows in NeoSporin and Tostitos.

2) On Friday, my last official workout, I came down with a pretty bad stomach cramp that afflicted me so badly throughout the day that I briefly considered not going to the gym at all. I had been to the bathroom several times that day, and when I started stretching for the gym, sweating out another 1,000 calories wasn't exactly something I was looking forward to. But I sucked it up and went through with the whole workout, even running out the mile at the end. That's not to say that (children and civilized people, cover your eyes) I didn't have a life-altering fart in the middle of a set of incline push-ups that I could feel coming down the hatch 20 seconds before blast-off. It required so much energy I had to stop breathing for a second to fully appreciate the impact this particular form of flatulence was about to have. That, and I was afraid I would contract prostate cancer if I breathed in the fumes.

So you see, on the exercise end of it, I really wanted a big weight loss bad this week. Too bad my diet didn't get the same treatment. On Saturday, I journeyed to Northern Maine to DJ a wedding, stopping at the one and only Mickey-D's on the way up, where I devoured a Big N' Tasty, fries, and a Diet Coke in about 14 seconds. On the 3-hour drive home, I stopped twice: once at Tim Horton's where I ordered an XL coffee with cream and sugar and the biggest turkey bacon club sandwich I had ever laid eyes upon, and once at Irving's, where I downed a liter of Mountain Dew and a bag of Chex Mix (I do not receive compensation from these companies, not even the fine folks at Taco Bell, home of the $1.99 Chalupa!)

So that wasn't such a good thing. But wait....there's more!

*****

To celebrate 10 weeks of [constant] exercising and [mostly] dieting, I determined that I would have to commemorate this first leg by doing something so far out of my comfort zone that I would be proud of it for years to come. I had already hurdled one mountain by running the 3.5-mile Back Bay, so I would have to go bigger this time. And when you look at the Portland Trail System, there's only one trail that's longer than the Back Bay. In fact, "dwarfs" might be a better word.

I decided that I was going to run the Harborwalk Trail. There's no point in trying to describe it, so here's the map instead

Just know that the starting point is East End Beach (at the top) and the end point is Bug Light Park (to the right). Total length: just about 6 miles i.e. THE LONGEST DISTANCE TRAVERSED BY ONE CHRISTOPHER GORDON. But could I do it? I thought I could anyways. I ran a mile almost every day for over two months, and as long as I didn't get too ahead of myself, I though I would have a pretty good chance of completing it.

I started shortly after 6pm on Sunday...

...and finished my non-stop run at 7:15. Unbelievable. Touching Bug Light was the highlight of my ten weeks thus far, and on top of that it was a beautiful day, I hadn't collapsed, I had lost tons of weight...do I need to explain how big my smile was? Just to prove I was there, here's a picture of Bug Light shortly after I touched it...


And for you true cynics out there, here's a picture of me in front of Bug Light, all sweaty and stuff


And for those who just like sexy things, here's another picture of me


And for those tired of me trumpeting my own virtues, here's a picture of Fat Me frowning


Everybody happy?

*****

So after running 6 miles, busting my ass for 10 weeks straight, and promising myself a week off for good behavior, I come to my tenth and final weigh-out, hoping beyond hope that all my hard work paid off just one more time. So how'd I do?

WEIGHT AFTER TEN WEEKS - MIDNIGHT, MONDAY, JUNE 21, 2010: 267.8 LBS. (+4.9 LBS.)

You know what? After 10 weeks, 85.5 miles ran, only one steak eaten, and a total of 34 pounds lost, I'm not even going to bitch this time. Just...grin and bear it.

LATE ADDITION: Two more developments that should give me a reason to keep hope alive...

1) My waist size dropped to a 36 - well, 38 comfortably. Had I bought the 36 shorts, the button would eventually have gone flying across the room like a champagne cork

2) I dropped a whole shirt size to an XL. No such luck with my enormous Irish head.

So now I'm on break for a week: break from the gym, break from the strict diet, break from taking three hours out of my day to prepare for the gym, work out at the gym, and unwind from the gym. C'est la vie! See you in a week!

How do I feel at this exact moment? On a scale of Olga Sherer to Gilbert Grape's mom, I'm a Big Baby Davis: tried hard for a long time, the weight kept coming off, and much like the 2010 Celtics, the final week didn't turn out exactly like I thought it would; also, like Big Baby, I screamed so loud after the Week 10 weigh-in that I scared the HIV out of Magic Johnson.

Owie!

So what stupid thing did I do while working out last night? I'll never tell...










Funny videos

Week 9: Fin

To answer the question hanging on the tip of everybody's tongue, yes, I did do the double workout on Saturday. Will I ever do it again? I'll let Arms answer this one:

"YOU DAMN FOOL! IF YOU EVER PULL A STUNT LIKE THAT AGAIN, I'LL CRAMP YOUR BICEP IN THE MIDDLE OF A WIPE!"

Loud and clear. The Double Workout is not a fun time, especially if, over 9 weeks, you're used to doing 6 exercises and then a mile. 12 exercises and 2 miles equals Certain Death. It's not so bad when you're doing it, but the next day you feel like you've been the victim of a Superfly Splash: just pure pain rushing at you at 12 feet per second.


*****

Not to get all preachy or anything, but I figured I would share some words of wisdom. After 9 weeks, I'm getting into pretty good shape, not just physically but mentally, too. By that I mean that my attitude toward physical fitness has changed tremendously. I no longer dread going to the gym (even though I still have many more trips ahead of me), and eating healthy is not as bad as it sounds (although lentil chili still doesn't sound very good). I hope at the very least that if this blog accomplishes nothing else, at least one person out there will get inspired and want to start changing their life as well. One word of advice, if I may: over 9 weeks I have learned this -

My body doesn't owe me shit.

That's the truth. Let me give you an example: say I work out five days during the week. I eat healthy, and generally take care of myself. Now let's say that on the sixth day, I feel like rewarding myself, so I eat an entire stuffed crust pizza, using the logic that I've been good all week and my body will give me a free pass just this once.

That's a big negative. Your body thinks like an accountant: it's just numbers and basic math. If you lost 5 lbs, and then eat 2 lbs worth of junk food without compensating for it - like exercising, for example - your body is only going to give you credit for 3 lbs, and probably less when you factor in lethargy, grease, fat, etc. All those fancy diets - Atkins, South Beach, Atkins Beach, etc. - may actually work for a couple people, but nothing on Earth allows you to eateateat with no repercussions at all. It's sad, I know, but unless you're dieting and exercising on a regular basis, you're never going to spur any real change in your body chemistry. That being said, don't read the next paragraph...

Week 9 saw somewhat of a return to form for me. While I did take two days off at the gym rather than my normal one, I made up for it on Saturday, while at home, I managed to work in some more healthy meals (although the allure of chicken ceasar sandwiches still hung in the air all week). After last week, where I re-gained nearly 6 lbs, I was bound and determined NOT to have regressive weeks in a row. Even if I lost nothing this week, there was no way in hell I was gaining any weight. I made sure of that on Sunday night; while the Celtics were whipping the Lakers in Game Five, the treadmill was whupping me during a faster 2-mile run.

(Note: Initially, I was going to run the Back Bay again, but Maine is in this peculiar weather pattern where we can't seem to get the same weather two days in a row. Everybody's mood is going south for the summer...very frustrating).

Two major relapses this week:
1) Earlier in the week, I treated myself to a midnight snack: cheese popcorn. A lot of cheese popcorn. I started crying midway through, thinking that the whole week was down the drain (didn't really start crying, but you get the idea)
2) Saturday night, while over to my old roommate Shorn's house watching UFC, I treated myself to not one, but two bowls of fat free chocolate ice cream. No word on whether or not the pizza and wings that I DID NOT EAT were jealous at all.

That feels kind of like the explanation and confession of guilt right before the jury's verdict is delivered, but anyway...here goes nothing...wince...

WEIGHT AFTER NINE WEEKS - MIDNIGHT, MONDAY, JUNE 14, 2010: 262.8 LBS. (-11.9 LBS.)

...












I think that just about says it all. I'd like some popcorn now.

*****

Week 10 is here. Time to re-up and work out hardcore, and then I get a week off. Looking forward to it, too. Nothing but pizza! I wish...

How do I feel at this exact moment? On a scale of Olga Sherer to Gilbert Grape's mom, I'm like Monica on "Friends": the change has been so drastic so suddenly, people wonder if I'm going to balloon back up again. I know on the show she's skinny, but she used to be fat, remember? (er...not that I've ever seen the show...um...)

Closing In and Then a Sin

Son of a bee-sting!

I knew that eventually something would happen that would prevent me from hitting the Sweat Factory and getting my sexiness all in order. Well, wouldn't you know that it ended up being my laziness? Who'da thunkit? Oh, I know who: my 275-lb. fat ass that took almost 26 years to get to this point.

Let me recap without chucking invectives wildly like a Dave McCarty fastball: about four weeks ago, I transferred to another department within my company. In my new position, my schedule changes almost daily, and it is rare that I have the same two days off in consecutive weeks. Therefore, my 1pm start time that I had relied on for over a month has been violently ripped away from me (although my happiness level at work and at home has exponentially risen). So every day I have to work out at a completely different time, and since some days I don't get out of work until 9pm...you do the math. You know I'm not waking up an hour earlier if I don't have to be to work until 1 in the afternoon. And after nine weeks, my gung-ho Go Team! attitude has been reduced to a broken noisemaker and 5.7 previously-lost pounds finding their way back into my body.

Anyway, with different start times every day, I've been occasionally rearranging my day off from the gym every week. It used to be Saturday, but lately it's been Tuesday, or Friday, or Wednesday, or whatever. This week it was Wednesday. I worked a nine-hour shift, and was supposed to head right for the gym after work. But at the end, my boss sat me down and told me training was over, and that I was now effectively released into the wild, as it were. I was incredibly happy. Here's a brief idea of how I looked:


Just add about 22 years and a couple hundred pounds (but the same wife-beater) and you get the idea.

So how did I want to celebrate? Did I want to go leg press about 300 lbs. and almost snap my tailbone like a dead tree? Or did I want to go home and kill a bottle of Zinfandel with my honey? Or did I want to drink and work out at the same time?

Well, I opted for B (although C sounds wonderful). So much for Saturday being my day off. But it wasn't a huge deal. I would just have to work out every day for the rest of the week. Yet Thursday had other plans for me. It was my day off from work, and I spent most of it unpacking and rearranging things in our new apartment. Around 3:30 or so, I was literally walking out the door to head to the gym (it should be noted that Holls was out of work at 3, but was on her way to an oil change). She pulled into the driveway right as I was walking out the door. She had one of those looks that every husband/fiance/boyfriend recognizes right away: it's the I'm-going-to-say-you-can-leave-for-the-gym-now-but-if-you-leave-me-alone-I-might-murder-a-cat-in-cold-blood look. Like this:


Wait, that's the cat. More like this:


Minus the nurse's uniform.

So I gotta find out what's wrong. I can't leave my girl hanging like that, so I put off going to the gym. And we talk for a while, and we end up going out for dinner, and the potential bad night turns into a very good one.

And at a certain point, it's about 10:30...

And my bag is still packed for the gym...

Only I am in absolutely no mood to go to the gym...

And in a flash, I tell myself I'll make it up somewhere else...

Even though I'll be shorting myself a workout this week...

Goddammit...

(Sidebar: I just re-read everything I just wrote, and realized that it sounds like something...else was going on. That's a negative on that. We just ate pasta and went to Home Depot. I promise you. So far as you know [giggles!]).


But seriously....no.

Regardless, when I woke up Friday morning, only one thought crossed my mind: ".....Shit." Now I have to make up a workout somewhere. I foolishly told myself that I would work out Friday morning and night, and I did hit the gym this morning, but I decided about .000067 seconds after I punched out that one workout was enough, and that what was best for my body was scouring YouTube and my television for fitness-related programming aka hey Ass, let's take a night off and worry about doubling up tomorrow. You've earned it!

Will I double up a workout tomorrow night? Or will I go double-or-nothing on Sunday, when I'm already supposed to run 2 miles? Guess you'll just have to stay tuned! Good day...


...I SAID GOOD DAY!

Week 8: Fin

After nearly 2 months of a steady workout regiment, Week 8 was the first time where I felt my resolve start to slip a bit. It was mostly little things: larger meal portions, less emphasis on weight during my workout, etc. I still haven't missed any workouts, but this was the first week where midway through the week I knew something was a bit off.

For example, at work one day, I had for lunch a grilled reuben sandwich with half a bag of pretzels. That's an old Chris meal. A new Chris meal would have eaten half the sandwich and a few pretzels. Part of my slip this week centered around a holier-than-thou complex that's been building inside of me for a couple weeks now. Whereas in the past I would not specify to people exactly how much weight I had lost, I was proudly telling people left and right this week that I had lost 33 pounds. And after hearing myself say over and over again how awesome I am, I started to feel invincible, and felt that I could just about anything and I would lose weight.

That's not accurate. The whole reason I've been shedding so much weight is because the diet and exercise portions both act as supplements to each other: they bring out the best in each other, like Heidi and Spencer only the exact opposite. And this week, I stupidly thought that I could just rely on exercise to carry the day, and could still eat whatever I want. No more Frosted Flakes burritos for me (although that does sound wonderful...).

So how'd I do?

WEIGHT AFTER EIGHT WEEKS - MIDNIGHT, MONDAY, JUNE 7, 2010: 274.7 LBS. (+5.7 LBS.)

Yikes. So the slip was more like...



FIVE THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND:

1. I ate a really big dinner on Sunday night. That could have something to do with it.

2. I ate a Tums right before weigh-in. I don't know if it weighed 5.7 pounds, but it could have...

3. This picture was taken Saturday night. Who the hell is this guy?

Compared to this guy, that is.


4. I figure there's been one bad week out of eight. Not too shabby.

5. And then this...not everything is bad



How do I feel at this exact moment? On a scale of Olga Sherer to Gilbert Grape's mom, I'm Eric Cartman in the "Weight Gain 4000" episode: I think I'm losing a lot of weight, but in reality, it's not going so well. "Beefcake! BEEFCAKE!!!"