Progress is Progress, With or Without a Smile

I was never injured on a PT boat during the war in the Pacific, but each time I arose from my chair and buttoned my coat today I was stiff and grimaced slightly like those old newsreels of John F. Kennedy.

My back is still sore, but I would stretch it as best I could and powered through. It's like when you were a kid and banged your arm or leg during practice, something that hurt, but was clearly not an injury, and your stern coach would scoff at any belly-aching and say something like, "Rub some dirt on it, you'll be fine," or "You'll be able to walk by the time you're married." Draconian advice to toughen up young lads when no serious injury is evident. It is hard not to think of those words even 30 years later when you contemplate skipping the gym because you've been moving around like your Grandfather - grunts and all.

I actually feel much better now as my sore muscles and kinks worked themselves into operable order.

Skipping breakfast, which I normally never do, I grabbed an apple before heading to the gym.

My trainer said we were going to "show off" today, which meant gliding (and in my case plodding) around the main floor of the gym, weaving around people on treadmills and exercise bikes, throwing lefts, and rights, right crosses, and upper cuts with both hands. And today he introduced ducking as he threw his right cross at my head. Again, because these are movements I have never done in all my years playing sports it takes some practice to stop looking like Bambi on a frozen pond...in front scores of people no less.

My wrists began to feel like they were made of Tinker Toys, and my heavy breathing and grunting had to sound like a Clydesdale in a Bud commercial.

Although I try not to weigh myself too much, I am a little obsessed about weighing an oz. below 250 lbs by Thursday. I am flying to L.A. for the big Health Expo in Anaheim this weekend where I will be seeing the crew, including Heather, from VBites. Even though my progress is very good, I just want the psychological gratification of walking the show room 50 lbs lighter. And when I finally move the main bottom weight on the scale from the 250 lb notch, to 200 lb notch it will be a great victory for me. I really hope to weigh in at 249 lbs by the weekend! Today I was 256 lbs.

The salad bar at the cafe at work is perfect - plenty of different lettuce, and legumes. I loaded up on iceberg, mesclun, and spinach salad with shredded carrots, cucumbers, black beans, kidney beans, chickpeas, olives, humus, and sunflower seeds. And no dressing at all - none needed, it is great without it. In fact, now, when I have a salad at a restaurant it seems drowned in oil.

Yesterday, I met my Aunt and Uncle at the MET and then went over to one of the best burger places in New York City - J.G. Melons. It is a great old bar and restaurant and I have never been there in all my years without a beer, burger, and bowl of chili. The salad was just fine, but was doused in oil. And, truth be told, as my Aunt and Uncle enjoyed their burgers I was envious. Funny. How can I dislike the oil on my salad, but salivate over a greasy cheeseburger?

Tonight I did not feel too hungry so I made a smoothie - soy milk, frozen cherries, banana, and frozen raspberries. It was fantastic, and I thought, this amazing treat is what I will give my kids. No sugar, no preservatives, just a good healthy snack that rivals anything you can order at Jamba Juice.

In a sick way, even though my wrists feel like they are about to snap merely tapping this keyboard, I want to box again tomorrow - I am exhausted, but I feel lots of adrenaline, and I really want to start hitting those mitts like a pro! I've now done it four times, and I went from fearing the exaustion to fearing doing it poorly.

The last thing I wanted to do today was go to the gym, but I didn't think about it. As I walked out of the locker room I was not looking forward to my vigorous work out, but I realized that I never sat at my desk and fretted, and tried to make excuses for myself, I just went without thinking, like walking across the street to Walgreens to pick up a package of licorice. The famous sports slogan, "Just Do It" is actually apropos. Don't think, just go do what you have to do. Think about it later, when you are tired, but thrilled that it made the day an important one - fatigue and sore muscles means that much less fat on your bones. I realized today that motivation does not have to mean you are happily looking forward to exercise, it only means that you ignore the one million dreamt up reasons why you shouldn't.