Ouch

Rachel (that's my hunna') and I have a rule of prohibiting our kids from sleeping in our bed.  However, our middle son has been struggling to sleep well, particularly the past few nights.  He came in crying (pretty sure he fell off his bed) in the middle of the night. Knowing he's always got a full bladder, I motioned to him to use the bathroom.  He then, without really asking, climbed up in bed to snuggle next to me.  I admit, I kinda liked it for the first little bit. Then, knowing I was stealing all his covers (as evidenced by my awakening several times after a few minutes of sleep to see him curled up in the fetal position) I asked if I could take him to his own bed.  I promise I'll be able to make him stay warm. He's quick to comply. I thought through all of this that it was surely 4:53 a.m., then 5:02, then 5:12 -- just three minutes before my forsaken alarm would get me up to go to the gym.

How happy I was it was only 2:12 a.m. I thought, "I've got three more hours...and I've been sleeping for about that long.  This is good!" However, whatever feelings of goodness I had at 2:12 were dashed to smithereens when 5:15 rolled around."I'm sooo tired!" I thought to myself. "Don't worry...you'll be glad you did this in about two hours."

And I was. But oh. my. goodness. The two hours in between 5:15 and 7:15 sure were a kick in the fat-ridden belly.

Why did Traci have to be at the gym this morning?

My trainer. She's so nice. So kind. Traci? Well, yeah, she's one of my favorite people in the world...but not when she's on a mission.

If you wonder what my morning was like, just view this 30 second video:

OK, OK. She's not that bad. But it's because of her that I'm having a hard time walking today...and only feeling 37% normal. Thanks, Traci!

Thanks to Jocelyn (she's my trainer) for being sa' nice. I have a feeling, though, that Jocelyn observed a little too much today.  I'm a little worried my work outs will be a little different from now on. Nice.

Update on my progress: Not losing it fast enough. Only down a couple pounds.  I know I've got great potential, I've just got to get the eating piece down.

Vacationing=no good

Vacationing is pretty tough for keeping on top of things with weight loss and exercise.  I did pretty well with exercise, not so well with eating well.  I'm looking forward to hitting the gym in the morning. I'm sure I'll wish to retract that feeling of anticipation when the alarm goes off at 5 a.m.

Say what?

Question: Do you ever hear anything pleasant about the term "P90X?" Let me give you a listing of the terms or phrases I most often hear when people discuss this work out program -- a program that has a name that sounds like it belongs in tattoo form on the back of a WWE/WWF guy's bald head, (and only sounds cool to guys who have man crushes on Vin Diesel and love movies like Fast and the Furious). Anyway, when I hear people talk P90X, I hear things like:

1) 'horrible'
2) 'painful'
3) "I can't walk today"
4) "I can only eat twigs and berries with a little bit of water on top -- at least til I get to phase II"
5) "Don't make me laugh, I did P90X last night and my stomach feels like it has knives jabbing through it."

So, when I was meeting with my new trainer, Jocelyn (who will be great, I think) and Traci (one of the best gals around) and they looked at each other during my elliptical journey and said, "Yeah, for stomach work outs for Ethan, lets have him do a couple P90X things." They were all smiling and winking at each other. I was like, "I'd rather you take real knives and jab me a few times in my belly instead (knowing the depth of the knife wounds would not penetrate the abnormally thick layer of adipose tissue and reach any internal organs)."


As they both thought of putting me through this, I could tell they were giving each other virtual high fives, followed with virtual fist bumps that are met with an audible (Fast and the Furious-like) explosion sound. People who like P90X think the fist-bump + explosion-sound combo is cool. 

Not sure if I made my point. But I don't like thinking about doing any sort of P90X stuff. Not at all.

But I'll do it. It will be good for me. I'll be healthier and happier as a result -- in the end, right?

I feel super lucky to be on board. And super fortunate to have a spouse who supports me in the effort. 

The journey begins

I must admit, I ate a monster serving of ice cream last night. I think I felt a tear drop roll down my cheek as I closed out that chapter of my life. sweets. so good. so bad.

I know. Someone who is reading this (who probably weighs 123 lbs and doesn't have to work too hard to stay fit) is saying, "Ethan! It doesn't have to be like that! You can have sweets; those things aren't bad!" To you, do I need to remind you that you just don't get it? Having a food addiction is tough. It's tough to kick, despite realizing you NEED to kick it when its far too easy (and often acceptable) to keep things just the way they are. Often, I've faced not even WANTING to kick it, knowing how difficult the road to 'recovery' is.

Speaking of recovery, you see, when I was 24, I weighed in at a whopping 246 lbs. That was big. Unacceptable. Uncomfortable. Embarrassing. Trying. Sad. I had a great mentor (who was also my boss) who asked if I would commit to allow him to help me. Perhaps it was because he was my boss, but I committed.  Before I knew it, I was eating healthy and exercising much. It sucked to plan meals. It sucked for my wife, who had to make the meals. X amount of protein here; Y amount of carbs there.  It was EXHAUSTING at times.  But I feel like I approached things, for the most part, correctly.  Over the span of 18 months, I lost 57 lbs, reaching a total weight of 189. It felt really good to be fit. I could breathe easier. I could frolic and play. I only had a small gut. Clothes fit. I was in control. It was nice.

Then it happened.

Stress. Change. Kids. A wife who (luckily) wasn't going to hit the road because her husband would eat too much. But it was mostly the stress. I was working a LOT and trying to plan for an MBA. Soon after came the move to Provo where my time with Intermountain Healthcare continued at American Fork Hospital. More stress came as we yet experienced great blessings. I was accepted into USU's MBA program, was asked to contribute significant volunteer time for my church was continuing to stay very busy with work. Exercise and eating healthy would come and go, mostly lasting three weeks at a time before hitting a wall. Then, the five to eight pounds I had lost during that time was back in my belly, perpetuating my discomfort and worsening my disbelief that I would get back on track. At 28, I was back to 140. Now, at nearly 32, I weigh 149 lbs. What the crap.

What am I going to do? I'm nervous. Mostly that I won't be successful at this. But having to give an accounting to others on my progress (and failures) is a way I'll more likely find success. And I worry that the very thing that tends to be my downfall (stress) will be tougher to manage with even more church responsibilities and a new job with more responsibilities.

We'll be OK. I'll be OK.