Friday Night Strong!

Yesterday I ran into a friend of mine after I had my edamame, miso, and salad (no fish) at Haru. He is a triathlete and I mentioned how I enjoyed his updates on Facebook about all the training, and half marathons he does. He said, "Well, what else can a single guy in NYC do? If I didn't train I'd party myself into the ground!" He then commented on my quest and said, "Honestly, I don't know how you did it (giving up drinking for 6 months), I mean, what else is there to do for fun?" Here is a guy who is in such great shape that he drinks with impunity on the weekends.

Again, this is the culture in which I live, but I took his comment about training keeping him out of trouble and he is exactly right!

I chose not to go to the Shore this weekend because I wanted some quality time to myself where I can do constructive things all weekend that do not revolve around drinking. Basically, I firmly resolved to avoid the near occasion of "sin" -- I took extreme temptation out of the equation. Not to mention, with my :20 minutes of extra cardio (on top of a prescribed :40 minutes) for every drink over 7 I have in a week needs to be employed! Thus far I had 11 1/2 drinks this week, so I am looking at 90 minutes of extra cardio I must do! Well, tonight I knocked off one of those extra drinks doing intense cardio for a full :60 minutes today (:40 regular work-out, plus :20 extra).  :70 extra to go!

 Actually, after work tonight as everyone around me rushed to get out of the city for the weekend I casually, and happily walked to the gym and worked out for a full 2 hours tonight!

Today for breakfast I snuck out for some fresh fruit and water at a bar while watching a few minutes of the Brazil vs. Portugal World Cup match. For lunch, my typical salad of lettuce, cucumbers, carrots, black beans, chick peas, kidney beans, some peanuts, and sunflower seeds.

After my huge work-out of weight lifting, ab work, and an hour of cardio: :20 minutes bike, :30 minutes of the elliptical, and :10 minutes of steep incline on the treadmill, I came home to enjoy a plum, a smoothie, a cigar (I know, I know, but cut me a break), and a couple liters of water. I usually re-use my bottles for at least a week -- nothing better than NYC tap!

I feel great, and I feel IN CONTROL, and now watching the Yankees vs. Dodgers game.

Now, tomorrow I will naturally be at a bar to watch the USA take on Ghana in the World Cup, but I am not too worried - I watched the Yankees win the World Series with a pint of seltzer water in my hand.

A Day in the Life of New York City

Thursday morning I saw some action, and learned that sometimes running is a really really bad idea. If you allow me a reprieve to speak of something not related to my vegan quest:

On my way to Green Symphony for some oatmeal I saw a man in T-Shirt and shorts sprint down 43rd Street. A van blocked my view so I could not see where he was running to; I paid it no mind. Then I saw a cop running after him. And then another. I hopped out into the middle of the street to see if these less than lightening fast officers needed the assistance of a 42 year old with two bad knees. Oh, no need at all! About 20 yards away I saw a cop tackle a man I had not seen earlier, and then the man in a T-Shirt and shorts (I quickly saw was an undercover cop) joined in the open field tackle of the "perp"  (perpetrator) as well. The under-cover speedster then introduced his knuckles to the tackled man's head over and over and over again as the perp struggled to break free of the ever growing collection of NYPD officers joining the fracas. Now this was not a movie, it was better than movie! I was now standing 5 feet from the life and death gymnastics of police work as more and more of New York's finest dove into the scrum while the perp struggled about. Even when it is 7 on 1 it is very hard to place handcuffs on the 1 if he is determined for it not to happen - it was quite a long struggle. I heard the first cop I saw running say to a Lieutenant, "I asked him to come over and speak with me and he just took off running!" I then looked at the man on the ground, who surprisingly looked in his early 50's, with a canvas briefcase next to him screaming, "I can't breath!" Hmmm, I thought. He is putting up a helluva fight for having no oxygen. You can breath. It is rather simple actually. When you are in the middle  of one of the top targets of international terrorism just 8 weeks (and 2 blocks away) after a terrorist tried to blow up as many people as possible and a police officer asked to speak with you it is probably in your best interest not to take off running down the street carrying a bag - if you don't run you'll end up breathing quite well. But what I loved is this all took place right in front of the large stage doors where the Local 1 union guys are building the sets for the upcoming Broadway production of Spiderman. True to New York City form, all the hard hats came running out to assist the cops if necessary. One hard hat came running out with a drill in his hand! I really really love this city! Just when you think this brotherhood and unity was dissipating, something like this re-energizes you and you happily remember we are all in this together.

If I appear less than sympathetic, and callous towards the man on the ground, I apologize. But when I pass men in riot gear and machine guns most mornings as I walk to work in a building at the heart of a giant bulls-eye, I sort of loose sympathy for those whose actions exacerbate an already tense life and death situation. Now, maybe he just missed a few parking tickets, but if you want to run and fight do it at the gym, not with the NYPD.

A Confession

I was not going to tell this story, but, the nagging sense of guilt is forcing my keyboard:

In regards to my business trip on Wednesday, the 8:10 AM train was permanently delayed so there was a mad rush to jump on the Acela (Express) train at 9:00. I would still have time to get into Philly, rent a car and drive to my 11:00 appointment, but it would be cutting it very close (as it was, I pulled into the parking lot of my client at 10:55 AM!). Myself, and dozens others scrambled to get onto the Amtrak queue to exchange our tickets for the Acela (being a more expensive trip we were forced to exchange our tickets and pay the

difference). Amtrak is a perennial money loser propped up only by the daily travelers (mostly business people) going to meetings at points between Boston, New York, Philly and Washington, DC. Therefore, all those in line were frantic about missing meetings when the 8:10 went out of service. Visiting Grandma in Baltimore 2 hours later than expected is not cause for eruption at the glacial pace of the Amtrak ticketing staff, missing a meeting worth millions of dollars is. The snarls of everyone in front and behind me as we impatiently waited to get on the next train spoke many stories. And then, I lost my cool and said something shameful.

The meeting in Philly was months in the making, we just submitted a Request for Proposal to their ad agency, and we have never been able to carry this particular business in the past. The importance of this meeting was huge, and missing it was not an option. My story was replicated amongst my new cohorts in similar circumstances in line - everyone had an important meeting to get to. Group anger makes fast friends. Then a Red Cap, carrying luggage, brings a cartoonishly obese businessman to the front of the line. With the clock ticking down to departure - minutes away - and the threat of seats being sold out an imminent probability, the queue (men and women alike) exploded the second this hugely rotund man cut the line and went up to the window. Everyone started shouting and screaming at him, and I too lost my cool, I am ashamed to say, and I am disgusted to say that as I joined the chorus screaming at this man, I called him "tubby." Who am I to criticize anyone's weight, ever? It was a short burst of immature anger, and infantile name calling. Although my fellow queue mates called him vile curse words with angry spittle coming out of their mouths, I went for the jugular, and I acted like a complete jackass. It seems attacking someone's weight is the last acceptable point of difference to point out in polite society, and it is ridiculously, sadly wrong.

Most of my life I felt terrible for those who were overweight, and incensed when anyone would make fun of them, but there I was in a moment of unjustified rage going against what I believe. If I called him a Bastard, or a M'ther F%$&@ (like my queue mates) I would have long since forgotten it, but I didn't. I made fun of the way he looked, and I still feel terrible. Not to mention, it was really the Red Cap's fault!

Getting my just deserts, the woman in front of me got the very last coach ticket on the train, and I was forced to fork over another $145 for a first class seat. First class on Amtrak is a far cry from first class on Virgin Atlantic, or even first class on a Greyhound bus! In fact, it is exactly like riding coach, but you get a free breakfast fruit plate - 3 strawberries, 6 damaged grapes, and a tiny slice of orange. Definitely worth the
extra money, and trouble, and shame of name calling.

Travel Day...Hard to Eat Well

Wednesday morning I caught an early train to Philadelphia for a big meeting and lunch. Running late, naturally, I figured I would find something for breakfast at Penn Station before boarding the train. Who was I kidding? Not an apple, nor banana in sight. If I wanted a sugar covered donut, or a giant chocolate chip muffin, or a dripping egg, cheese, and sausage on a bun I was in business. But something healthy? No such luck.

On the Amtrak train I got the fruit plate...it was pathetic in size and quality.

Lunch was at The Four Seasons in Philly and I ordered the salmon (fulfilling my full 5% of non-vegan meals per week), and a salad. The salmon was the size of a fig newton cookie, and the meal, especially for the Four Seasons, was quite unimpressive.

This was trouble since I was still hungry when I got back to the 30th Street Station. A beautiful train station, their food court was your typical assortment of fast food restaurants that serve high fat, low nutrient food. I had an hour to kill so I went to the bar to watch some of the World Cup and eat some more. Not much to choose from I got the hummus plate, which was very good, but I clearly had too much bread. And, well, another tic on the ledger! The weekend was going to have be a dry one!

I got back into the city in the evening where I had time to engage in about 35 minutes of intense cardio - I was drenched through and through.

Later I met the lovely ladies of London at The Lion -- one of those new, hip, celeb places where I don't belong. It was great catching up, but when I was told I looked to have gained a little weight it was disheartening, but they were dead right! Enjoying the ambiance, and the good cheer, and Regis Philbin (a tiny man) walking by, I decided, after 4 large glasses of seltzer to order a Rye. And, another tic off the ledger!

The week was getting weaker, and I am now thinking of staying in the city to engage in lots of physical activity in central park, etc to end the week on a high note. There is no way a weekend at the Shore would be the best thing for my self control at this stage! Plus, the beach house promises to be over-flowing with people so my sleeping will suffer as well.

No Soup for Me...Yet

So, Tuesday night I was eager to get to my ingredients to cook Dr. Fuhrman's famous soup.

But like children with shiny objects I was quickly distracted with the prospect of "going out." Going out in NYC can mean doing something I always do, in rut-like fashion, such as P.J. Clarke's, Pig 'n Whistle, rinse, repeat. Or, the deadly trifecta, back when the famed Old Stand bar sat on the NW corner of 55th and 3rd (now, sadly, a mobile phone store) and slung pints between giant posters of Eamon de Valera and Eamon Coughlan it formed the perfect right triangle with the hypotenuse between the Pig and Clarke's. But really, it was the Burmuda Triangle for me, and I have a lost decade to prove it!

Or going out could mean traveling no more than 20 blocks away (1 mi.) and be in an entirely different world.

And so it was Tuesday night when then the Encouraging Nurse not only educated me about a part of the city (very hard to do) that I passed often, but did not realize existed, "Curry Hill," but was kind enough to treat me to some terrific Indian food. In the area of Lexington Avenue in the 20's sits a dozen Indian restaurants and is nicknamed "Curry Hill" (proper geographic name, Murray Hill). A perfect meal suggestion on a warm evening we went to Pongal Vegetarian Indian Restaurant.

We started with Iddly - steamed rice cakes with chutney and sambar sauces, and Medu Vada - lentil donuts (hardly something you would find at Dunkin Donuts), also with chutney and sambar.

For dinner we shared Chana Sag chick peas in cream of spinach cooked with spices, and Shahi Paneer - cottage cheese cubes (part of my 5% non-vegan diet) in an creamy and mild onion tomato sauce. Both were excellent! It was tasty, and the spices cooled me off on a hot summer night.

At the end of the evening, we were too close to a good friend, and dry-witted Irishman and his "local" not to give a ring in case he was out and about. I will now pause and let all the ladies reading this roll their eyes, re-read, and incredulously say, "He paused a date, a date in which she paid, to call his drinking pal?" Shameful, I know, but I had an ulterior motive which proved marvelously successful - better than anything Bord Failte could do. And yes, I kept a ledger for the weekly drink allotment, 3 down and 4 to go, all with the weekend looming.

One thing I have studiously avoided on this blog, save for one or two postings, is any discussion of the ethical issues of veganism. And after this story I am sure to keep it that way:

In a scene reminiscent of  the film Annie Hall, the Nurse asked if I would perform a "job for a man" because there was a moth in her bathroom. This is a job I could handle and, unlike Wood Allen fumbling with his rolled up copy of National Review, I marched in grabbing some tissue paper in order to slay the moth and flush it down the commode. A job performed by heroes, daily, around the globe. After a couple of spastic swipes at this insect Red Barron my noble intentions suddenly became clear to her, and this humanitarian of humanitarians shrieked that she didn't want me to kill it! Rather my orders were to capture it and let it fly out her window!That's like telling a Roman Gladiator that he was only supposed to pet the lion. Then, when I heard the moth had been in her bathroom since the morning and she had placed some spinach on the sink so it would not go hungry I knew I would never, nor could I ever comment on ethical issues again. I was out of my league...universe really, since not once did I ever say the rosary after squashing a cockroach on a subway stairwell.

The Joy of Cooking?

So, yesterday I only had 30 minutes to go to the gym which amounted to only 20 minutes of cardio. Not great at all, but it's movement, and even though it was not a full work-out, I went anyway to at least sweat a little. Better than nothing. The vegetarian powerhouse salad from Chop't followed. But really, the lines are ridiculous! With both Chop't and Moaz Falafel, the only healthy choices in the area of The Bowtie and the Deuce, I have never seen such consistently enormous queues! But then again Times Square is the vortex of horrendous food offerings between Ruby Tuesday's, Chevy's, Bubba Gump's, Red Lobster, and a bevy of faux pizza joints. Nothing says "authentic New York," not to mention "healthy eating," than those aforementioned chain restaurants!

Yesterday evening I wanted to make Dr. Fuhrman's famous "Anti-Cancer Soup." I went to the grocery store and picked up the ingredients. Now, there is no super markets on the way home, I have to walk over to 2nd Avenue. After a long day at work, walking home on a hot summer evening dodging clueless, meandering tourists who all suffer the same peripheral vision deficiency, the last thing I want to do is grocery shop! But I grab the miniscule shopping cart and set off down aisles the width of your sunglasses. Grocery store shopping in the City is torturous at most of the places.

I had to pick up two items (recipe below) that I never shopped for, and to be honest, had no idea what they looked like. I had to get either collard greens or kale. All I knew is that they are green. I figured "collared greens" sounded more appetizing than something that sounds more like an ailment than a vegetable. "Yes, I'm sorry, he suffers from kale." Also, the South seems to enthusiastically support collard greens so it was the safe bet. Of course the Food Emporium only stocked kale -- the things were huge!

I really was not excited about this shopping, and my mind wandered to the 67 steps I would have to climb with plastic bags cutting into my fingers. As I shuffled around looking in vain for dried split peas I noticed everyone else's baskets: ground beef patties, burritos, microwave ready pizza rolls, etc. It is so easy to be lured by the quick meal --- the quick unhealthy meal. Walking home I looked at every restaurant and thought, "In 10 minutes I can have a meal!" So, cooking does take time!

Well, I got home, had a bowl of cherries, talked on the phone, and realized I would have to wait until tomorrow to cook my famous Dr. Fuhrman's anti-cancer soup!

* update* - here is the recipe that is the same below but includes the collard greens or kale, plus a video of Dr. Fuhrman cooking:   http://www.chooseveg.com/anti-cancer-soup.asp

From Dr. Fuhrman's book Eat to Live:

Making this soup involves more time and effort than the other recipes, so you might want to make a huge amount and save it in the refrigerator for the whole week. It tastes so good that a patient of mine who owns a fine restaurant offers in on his menu.

1 cup dried split peas and/or beans

4 medium onions

6-10 zucchini

3 stalks leek

5 lbs. carrots

2 bunches celery

1 cup raw cashews

2 tbsp. VegiZest

1 package mushrooms, any type (optional)

6 oz. textured vegetable protein (optional)

Place the beans and 4 cups of water in a very large pot and start cooking them, covered, on the lowest flame possible. Take the outer skins off the onions and place them in the covered pot. Do not cut them up, put them in whole. Add the zucchini, uncut. Cut the bottom roots off the leeks and slice them up the side so each leaf can be thoroughly washed, because leeks have lots of dirt hidden inside. Throw away the last inch at the green top. Then place the entire leek (leaves uncut) into the pot. Juice the carrots and celery in a juice extractor. Add the juice to the pot. While the soup is simmering, chop up the mushrooms (if desired). By the time you get to this stage, the zucchini, leeks, onions should be soft.

This next step only works if you have a Vita-Mix, a powerful blender, or a food processor. Ladle some of the liquid from the pot into the machine. Use tongs to remove the soft onions, zucchini, and leeks. Be careful to leave the beans in the bottom of the pot. In a few separate batches, completely blend together the onions, zucchini, and leeks. Add more soup liquid and cashews to the mixture, and blend in. Return the blended, creamy mix back to the pot. Add the textured vegetable protein and the mushrooms, if desired. Simmer another 20 minutes, and you have my soup that is famous the world over. I know a doctor who makes and freezes my soup and sells it to his patients to cure everything from sinusitis to cancer. It's not really a cure, but it sure does taste great.

It's the Weekends that are Proving the Hardest

I made it down to the Jersey Shore Friday early evening in time for the BBQ. I chose only to have the pasta salad and delicious sweet corn. I did not eat the BBQ chicken no matter how good it looked. I was going to try to stay vegan for the weekend - always a tough thing to do at the beach unless I went out to the grocery store myself, which I did not do. Generally speaking, I stayed rather close to a vegan diet, save for the sandwich I had after the beach Saturday afternoon. But I did not eat healthfully at all. I guess I was kidding myself that going back to essentially veganism until I met my goal was pointless unless I curbed my weekend drinking as well. I would never normally grab a bag of chips, or cookies, or a pop tart for breakfast unless I was in the midst of a good session, or the morning after one. When you are at the beach, and there is a party going on with music, and people in bathing suits running around, and cocktails all about, those Girl Scout cookies suddenly look delicious and healthy to your skewed perception! Then of course there is the craziness of wildly popular bars like the Parker House which is a black hole of debauchery!

So, here is my game plan:

1. Go to the gym at least 4 times per week (I've been averaging 3 times)

2. 95% of my weekly (and weekend) diet will be vegan, with 100% being nutrient dense.

3. I am limiting myself to 7 alcoholic drinks per week (this allows a glass of wine at dinner in a social setting to avoid any awkwardness, or a couple of beers watching a game with the boys). Down at the beach, I probably had more than twice that amount over the weekend - heck, I had 5 beers alone watching the U.S. Open at the bar over a couple of hours.

4. However, if I break this strict rule of 7 per week, I must do an additional 20 minutes of cardio for every drink over my weekly limit.

Why not just eliminate all drinking until I make my goal? Because lack of moderation is the personal dragon I must slay. Although I found it a terrific challenge, but doable, to give it up for 6 months, it is much more of a challenge to find that balance that does not include 100% abstaining.

I know I pulled myself back into a relatively good week health wise, and of course let it slip again on the weekend. If I was at my goal weight of 225 lbs, and chose the monastic life during the week, and blew it out over the weekend in fun and frolic, and was able to keep my weight steady, then I would have no problem with that. However, I am not at my goal weight, and secondly, there are scores of events during the week that can easily turn me back into a good time Charlie every other day, so I need to have these restrictions now!

Today was fine thus far, oatmeal and a giant plate of pineapple, melon, and strawberries.

Now, I am off to the gym. As coach Jim Valvano once famously said, "Don't give up, don't ever give up."

Starting the Weekend

Yesterday I had this terrific craving for the falafel sandwich at Moaz. But, I knew the better option would be the Vegetarian Powerhouse salad at Chop't. Yet, I really wanted that falafel sandwich were you can add as much cucumber, tomatoes, salsa, carrots, cabbage as you want. It is a healthy sandwich to be sure, but the falafel is fried so it is not the very best option for me. But the desire was too strong, and I zombie-like walked down the street. Thankfully, the line was quite long down the block - impatience beat out my cravings, and I opted for the equally long, but some what faster moving queue at Chop't.

For the last few times I have been to Chop't there have been cops in there eating. Doesn't quite fit with the stereotype, does it? Times Square cops eating a healthy salad while playing on their blackberrys. Somewhere Jack Webb is spitting up his coffee.

This morning I was forced to have a Gatorade. OK, I went to P.J. Clarke's last night, and in between holding court with 4 lady friends, and 2 Brits I just met I was feeling a little like my old self - in all the good, and all the not so good. So, I grabbed a Gatorade. I used to always have Gatorade, but now that my liquid intake is about 90% water Gatorade tastes too sweet, as well as too salty for me. Its not the taste I remember loving after a sporting event, or nursing a hangover in the morning.

Here is another new thing I noticed...I can tie the half Windsor tie knot. I just sort of realized it. For years my big belly prevented the half Windsor because the thin strand underneath would not reach the loop. Consequently, the schoolboy four-in-hand knot. Now, with all the room in the front I knot up the old half Windsor. I know, fascinating, huh?

Look, it's Friday. Go enjoy your weekend!

I am heading to the Jersey Shore again this weekend. Stay tuned!!

FAT

I am generally a black or white guy, not too much nuance, and at times pretty rough around the edges. Not to mention, I am terrifically judgmental of people, places, and things. Some people have even thought me a jerk at times. Imagine?! I make snap judgments about people, and I think I was only wrong 14 times.

But when it comes to the obese, I feel a certain pain for them - been feeling it all my life too, whether I was in the best shape of my life, or the worse, or as a kid.

My first memory was in 1977. I was a 9 year-old kid playing Little League baseball. The coach was pitching to us and we lined up to take our turns at bat. The catcher was our teammate, Steve Carney. I was sort of in a trance standing in the queue to take my swings with an oversized helmet bobbling on my skinny neck. I could have been nervous about how fast Mr. Tanis was pitching, or maybe I was watching some lady walk her dog, either way I was not aware of the conversation others were having as they waited their turn to bat. Then I sort of became aware what was going on. Some of the kids were making fun of Steve. Back in the 70's (and 60's, 50's, 40's, etc) when you were a kid there was only one, maybe two fat kids in your entire class (unlike the atrociously high percentage today). Steve was one of them, but he was also a terrific athlete. And, true to stereotypical form (see: Engelberg, character, The Bad News Bears, 1976) he was our catcher. It was just a week or so into the season, and I really didn't know anyone. About 3 or 4 of the kids were joking about Steve's weight, "He doesn't even need a chest protector he's so fat!" I am quite sure I made a comment like, "Cut it out you guys," immediately scared that I would be disliked by my new teammates. But they kept it up, and when I stepped into the batter's box my heart melted. Steve, not saying a word to all the taunts was squatting behind the plate, and through the catcher's mask I saw silent tears streaming down his face. It absolutely killed me, and I made an effort to be friends with him on subsequent Little League teams through the years. That image is seared into my mind. I even remember what he was wearing. I wonder what ever happened to him?

Another time I was having lunch with my boss before a huge meeting with NASDAQ. We were there early, and decided to duck into a fast food joint in Northern Virginia. As my boss was going over our strategy for the meeting, I saw this terribly obese women walking towards us with her finished tray of food. Her little daughter was trailing behind. The tables and chairs were haphazardly strewn about and I saw her start to try to pass between two tables, thought better of it and backed off. She then motioned towards the other side of the table but that was too close to another table with people eating. She then started back towards her original route, stopped, and then looked back at the second route. She stood there looking at the two easiest ways out of the restaurant and they both looked too small for her to squeeze through (even at 300 lbs I could have passed either route easily). The look on her face was gut wrenching for me. She looked so sad, and depressed and resigned to her fate as an obese woman with a young active child asking, "What's taking so long?" She turned around and walked back the length of the restaurant so she could leave unhindered. That broke my heart, it really did. Of course, she has no one to blame - not genetics, not a glandular problem - but herself. But it is clear that it is a vicious cycle. Not happy with your life, eating food that tastes great makes you happy - unfortunately her body is conditioned so that the best tasting foods are hamburgers, pizza, and ice cream.

There have been many times I have felt terribly sorry for people who are obese (not always, since sometimes I am repulsed), and usually, it is the look of sadness in their faces.

Finally, today I saw two women crossing the street, both about 30, but one was heavy and one was not. Both had that early morning--going to work--trying to shut out the crazy noise--dodge slow moving tourists-- scowl you see everyday in the city. But what differentiated the two was the effort the heavy girl was using to scurry across the street. Both had that soft scowl, but the heavier woman had that extra look of unhappiness - forced to speed up her gate so as to not be run down by a taxi. The thin girl hopped across the street and the heavy girl lumbered, and her face appeared to redden.  I really felt bad for her.

Extra physical weight adds extra emotional weight to your day, and your life. Trust me, I know! Now we all know the fat jolly person, I get it. But in the day in and day out of life's struggles, huffing and puffing up steps, or trying to squeeze into your favorite clothes adds that extra psychological sack of brinks on your back that makes you yearn for immediate happiness -- often found in drinking, or eating.

The look on that woman's face today made me think of many I have seen, and were touched by, in the past -- including the one in the mirror. That is why I felt like writing about this today.

Back to Good

Today was a little like my first week - I had urges at every turn. But I ignored them all.

Once I let the old lifestyle in, and then cut it off, my body was a little out of whack and I had stronger urges for unhealthy food. So, I need to retrain my mind a bit - not much, but a bit, and that is why it is safer if I stick to a vegan, or close to vegan diet until I lose the weight.

Today was the standard fair for me  - oatmeal for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and dinner was a blueberries and banana smoothie (nothing else goes into the blender), and the worse thing I had was water crackers and humus.

Tuesday - In Like a Lion, Out Like a Slaughtered Lamb

For lunch, the Vegetarian Powerhouse salad at Chop't. That was after a good work-out at the gym. But....No sooner (minutes really) did I decide that veganism was what I was going to fall back on until I hit my goal did I break that promise unsuspectingly. Then the day sort of lost control, and I wound up entertaining people in my old way -- a Dark 'n' Stormy AND creamed spinach? Really, Terrence? What the hell, man? But, here is the deal, I decided to condense my week into one day and get it over with. So instead of a week of entertaining, I made Tues. night the night I had drinks with my old boss, my old assistant, and my visiting cousin. All at once at my new favorite retreat, Bryant Park Grill roof top.

Yesterday was a crumby day at work, and I was stuck in a form of procrastination paralysis -- I needed a breather, a break, to move around. I took a walk around the block in the Deuce and every bar was packed with international travelers cheering the World Cup - in this case Brazil vs. North Korea. Like the Sirens calling sailors to shipwreck on their shores in Greek Mythology I wafted inside to watch some of the game and satisfy my sweet tooth. Why a sweet tooth? Probably from my weekend of drinking I guess. So, inexplicably, and for the first time since I was 11 years old I ordered a milk shake.

Like a pregnant women, when you start messing around with your diet you are bound to get weird, and often unhealthy desires. Simply put, I acted on the urge without thinking and felt awful afterwards. Outside of my rigid six-month vegan quest I allow myself more leeway, and that leads to poor choices. As a player I need a playbook and a rule book, otherwise, as you can see, I run pell mell all over the field and outside the lines.

But, like Spain's shocking loss to Switzerland minutes ago, I need to shake it off, and move forward again!

As I sit her writing this my upper body is sore from my work-out yesterday, so I am happy about that muscle soreness, ignoring my stomach soreness, and look forward to the rest of a clean living day, and week. I cleared my docket to do just that.

'Til Tuesday

Yesterday I think I decided that I may have gone temporarily back to being 100% vegan. In the past month my weight has increased, started to decrease and now is a bit stalled.

Although I highly suspect it was the drinking (empty calories), plus the poor eating while drinking that has kept me from my goal of being 225 lbs, I just want to reintroduce more discipline in my life. My veganism promoted discipline for me. Obviously, skinless chicken and fish is a part of a healthy diet found in Eat to Live, but, for me, when in doubt, go back to what worked in the past. Short-sighted, I know, but I am a little frustrated and I know what worked in the past.

Giving up the drink would be easier too, but, I'm sorry, this culture demands that I share a drink with people. This week alone I am meeting an old boss, an old co-worker, my old assistant, and my cousin from LA. Yes, I could drink seltzer with all, but it, and maybe this is where I have a fundamental problem in thinking, it just seems rude. I experienced too many people who were disappointed that I did not share a drink with them during my vegan quest. So, one glass of wine is all I will have.

Yesterday, I had a banana, then oatmeal, then my salad, but I did not go to the gym because I had a golf instruction at lunchtime. For dinner I just munched on cherries, by far my favorite fruit. And then I made a smoothie. That was it for dinner and I got a stomach ache, not terrible, but I felt bloated and sore. Maybe I had too much fruit?

I am now about to head for the gym. You know who has become my motivator? Some guy on my floor that I do not know. He is a chubby, bespectacled computer programmer or something. Everyday, like clockwork he goes to my gym. Looking at him on the street you'd never imagine him having a gym membership, but he goes every single day. Anytime I am feeling like I don't really have time to go, I watch him lope by, and I just shake my head, grab my bag and head to the gym.  Oh, there goes Lumpy, I gotta go....

Weekend Follies, and Forbearance

Saturday I had to go to Brooklyn to pick something up at the FedEx receiving center.

Even though Brooklyn is a great borough, the East River is a psychological barrier to Manhattanites, and it is a real shame. The three minute subway ride is not utilized enough by my friends and I. I decided on my way back to stop off in Williamsburg. A cool place for hipsters, it was great to walk around and see Mom & Pop shops and restaurants that, unlike Manhattan, are not part of major conglomerations.

I saw a few interesting vegetarian restaurants I wanted to stop into, but the USA vs. England soccer match was going on so I chose the famous Radegast Beer Hall. A great German beer garden was a perfect place to watch the World Cup, but not a perfect place to have lunch! Stuck in the "when in Rome" mentality (a real Achilles heel for me) I ordered a sausage, sauerkraut and stein of beer.

In between cheering team USA, I met a girl who's sister is a vegan so I was able to chat about my blog, and my lack of progress.

Saturday night I had a date with the Encouraging Nurse. I picked Candle 79, the great vegan restaurant. Why? I like it. That's it. I knew it would be a great date place, and being vegan was really an after thought for me!

The meal, as always, was great.  Afterwards, unlike the past 1,000 dates of my prior indiscretions we went for a walk. Not a bar. Walking around Central Park at night was something I had not done in years, and it was so nice. Instead of chatting over a cocktail, we chatted as we walked through the well lit, and safe park passing the boat house, and the beautiful Bethesda Fountain.

We then went to Lexington Bar & Books, a very cool cigar bar. I needed something, so instead of a bar, I chose, with her enthusiastic blessing, to sit in leather chairs and smoke a cigar. I did, however, order an excellent glass of Rye as well. After that we walked her dog Henry. I found a blackberry on the sidewalk and was able to find the very thankful owner at 2:30 in the morning which made me feel good about just doing the right thing.

I walked home, and it was 3:00 in the morning. I stopped into P.J. Clarke's and it was pretty interesting to see all the drunks and marvel how I used to swim in these waters. Glad I was there sober as a judge. I then caught the band at the Pig 'n' Whistle closing the bar at 4:00 AM. The last time I closed a bar I was a drunk sweaty mess, and now I was more on an anthropological quest to see the dark nightlife of NYC without diving into the bottom of a bottle.

The late night made my Sunday a tad "slow" but I didn't feel that shameful hangover, rather, I was just simply tired.

I had a large sushi lunch, and at night a bowl of cherries.

This week I strive for a much healthier, smarter lifestyle.  As you can see, this mixing and matching of the old and new lifestyle is a tremendous challenge and though I am keeping steady, I am not moving forward!

Tomorrow is another day.