As I'm sure you know, if you've been reading this blog up to now, I've been on a big health and fitness kick for the past 4 months or so. It has yielded some pretty awesome results thus far.
I started at around 290 pounds. Every month, I've lost about 10-12 pounds. This started with a tremendous amount of bike riding. At one point, I got down to 238. It was kind of a fluke though. I'm sure it depended on the time of day, when I had last eaten, when I had last worked out. All of those factors aligned themselves, leaving me with one awesome weigh-in. Since then, I have been hanging in the 242-245 range.
I thought that my body had maybe hit a wall. It had gotten used to the riding, and it was time to change it up a bit. I joined a gym a week and a half ago, so I could give my body some variety in the way of exercise. I have been a member of this gym for 9 days, and I have gone and worked out 7 of them.
Admittedly, I don't really know how to work out. I don't know the ins and outs of it. What to do, when to do it, etc. I've just kind of been winging it. I started out on 3 different cardio machines, just doing ten minutes of each. That changed to 2 machines, at 15 minutes each, and now most recently, I've been doing about 20 minutes on two machines each. That part is pretty self explanitory. I watch my heart rate, I can see the calories burned, and I can feel whether or not I'm getting a good workout. It's the weights I don't really know all that much about.
Since my 2 month stint on the 8th grade football team in White House, TN, I have virtually no weight-lifting experience (to clarify...these aren't free weights I'm using, but weight machines). I try to use common sense. I work out my upper body one day, lower body the next, abdominal muscles every day.
I have felt like I have made good strides. I leave the gym every day feeling like I get a good workout. However, the scale disagrees with me. Despite trying to "shock" my body, and kickstart more weight loss (I still feel like I have a good 40-45 pounds to go), I have done nothing but maintain the weight loss up to this point. I know it's only been a week and a half, but I figure I'd see at least a little progress...a pound or two...or three. But so far, nothing.
It's kind of frustrating, but it hasn't stopped me from trying. The only downside to all this is that I have now almost quit riding my bike altogether, since all of my free time has been switched to the gym. But, I feel like if I go back to riding, then I'm neglecting the gym, which I'm actually paying for (and getting a wider assortment of exercises). I'm sure I'll find a good routine eventually, but for now, I just feel like I'm spinning my wheels...working hard and going nowhere.
Friday, September 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Granddaddy
My Granddaddy passed away this past Saturday morning (June 26, 2010). It wasn't tragic, nor was it a surprise. We all knew it was coming soon. My dad and uncle had already gone up to Tennessee to be with him and my Grandmother. Brent, Cyndi, Shaunna, Chris, Martha, and I all headed up there at various times on Sunday for the viewing/visitation, and the funeral service and burial were Monday.
Since Kimberly and Cohen couldn't make it (due to a nasty wasp sting on Cohen's eye...a story I've told 100 times since last week), I had a lot of time by myself on the way up to Nashville to think about Granddaddy and Grandmother. I flipped through the files of my memory and relived stories from my childhood. There was the time Brent, Shaunna, and I stayed at their house for a week while Mom and Dad were out of town, and Shaunna broke a handle on Granddaddy's treadmill. Granddaddy, rather than get mad about it (which we fully expected), used it to teach us a lesson in honesty and admitting your mistakes that I will always remember. There was the time (actually 2 times) we got lost in the expansive (well, they're expansive when you're 9 years old) woods behind their house. We were hysterical, screaming for help until finally we emerged from the woods into a field just around the corner from their yard.
There are a ton of stories I remember from being at Granddaddy and Grandmother's house. However, there is one that will forever stick out in my mind.
I was a very young adult...like 19...maybe even 18. We had gone to Tennessee at Christmas, as we do every year. For a while it had been hard to get everybody together at the same time. It just happened by chance, though, that everyone from Granddaddy and Grandmother down (Roy, Beverly, Michelle, Thomas, Carla, My Mom and Dad, Brent, Shaunna, and I) were all there at the same time. This had been very rare in previous years, as we grandchildren had started to grow older, get jobs, etc.
As we stood around the table before our Christmas feast (which, by the way, both of my grandmothers do an amazing job preparing), Granddaddy was about to pray over the meal before we chowed down. Before he prayed, he just said a few words about how glad he is that the entire family was there. He told us how thankful he is for all of us, and how special it is that we were all together. As he spoke, I saw something I had never seen before and I would never see again. Granddaddy got choked up. Tears filled his eyes as he gave his mini-speech.
Granddaddy was a stern man. He was very opinionated. I wouldn't call him a negative man, but there were plenty of things he didn't like, and he wouldn't shy away from telling you about them. On that day, though, I saw what was really important to him. Family.
While it's nice to branch out, do your own thing, make something of yourself, etc., we must not forget who we are and where we come from. My Mom and Dad, Brother, Sister, and I all live within about 30 minutes of each other, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my family (all sides of it...my mom's side, my dad's side, Kimberly's mom's and dad's sides). I am very grateful to be surrounded by the people I love, and I can only hope that it doesn't change as we all get older and have our own kids.
Enjoy your families and keep them close. If you didn't grow up in a family where a lot of love was present, I would encourage you to make that tradition your goal as you start your own family.
Since Kimberly and Cohen couldn't make it (due to a nasty wasp sting on Cohen's eye...a story I've told 100 times since last week), I had a lot of time by myself on the way up to Nashville to think about Granddaddy and Grandmother. I flipped through the files of my memory and relived stories from my childhood. There was the time Brent, Shaunna, and I stayed at their house for a week while Mom and Dad were out of town, and Shaunna broke a handle on Granddaddy's treadmill. Granddaddy, rather than get mad about it (which we fully expected), used it to teach us a lesson in honesty and admitting your mistakes that I will always remember. There was the time (actually 2 times) we got lost in the expansive (well, they're expansive when you're 9 years old) woods behind their house. We were hysterical, screaming for help until finally we emerged from the woods into a field just around the corner from their yard.
There are a ton of stories I remember from being at Granddaddy and Grandmother's house. However, there is one that will forever stick out in my mind.
I was a very young adult...like 19...maybe even 18. We had gone to Tennessee at Christmas, as we do every year. For a while it had been hard to get everybody together at the same time. It just happened by chance, though, that everyone from Granddaddy and Grandmother down (Roy, Beverly, Michelle, Thomas, Carla, My Mom and Dad, Brent, Shaunna, and I) were all there at the same time. This had been very rare in previous years, as we grandchildren had started to grow older, get jobs, etc.
As we stood around the table before our Christmas feast (which, by the way, both of my grandmothers do an amazing job preparing), Granddaddy was about to pray over the meal before we chowed down. Before he prayed, he just said a few words about how glad he is that the entire family was there. He told us how thankful he is for all of us, and how special it is that we were all together. As he spoke, I saw something I had never seen before and I would never see again. Granddaddy got choked up. Tears filled his eyes as he gave his mini-speech.
Granddaddy was a stern man. He was very opinionated. I wouldn't call him a negative man, but there were plenty of things he didn't like, and he wouldn't shy away from telling you about them. On that day, though, I saw what was really important to him. Family.
While it's nice to branch out, do your own thing, make something of yourself, etc., we must not forget who we are and where we come from. My Mom and Dad, Brother, Sister, and I all live within about 30 minutes of each other, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my family (all sides of it...my mom's side, my dad's side, Kimberly's mom's and dad's sides). I am very grateful to be surrounded by the people I love, and I can only hope that it doesn't change as we all get older and have our own kids.
Enjoy your families and keep them close. If you didn't grow up in a family where a lot of love was present, I would encourage you to make that tradition your goal as you start your own family.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
...by the grace of God
A friend of mine posted a status update on FaceBook yesterday. He has since deleted the update, and I don't remember it verbatim, but it was something to the effect of...
Just saw a FB post, and it reminded me of how glad I am I left the South. People are racist, live entitled and unintelligent.
Of course, there were a myriad of comments under the status update along the lines of, "Not everybody!", and "I'm not!". My personal favorite was "Now I remember why I left the north. People make sweeping generalizations and are eliteists and unintelligent."
I was really surprised at how upset that guy's comment made me. I like to think that I generally have my reactions in check. It takes a lot to make me mad. On top of that, I have never been one to stand up for my "Southern heritage". For some reason, though, that one comment by my friend really made my blood boil!
I couldn't help but think more and more about the comment and how it made me mad, but really what I pondered was why it made me so mad. Of course, there was the insinuation that I'm a racist who, despite my unintelligence, feels entitled (to exactly what, I don't know). That insinuation, though, couldn't be what made me mad. I've never been one to become angry at accusations that aren't true. It's like a mom joke. They never offended me, because I know that my mama isn't so fat she uses a VCR for a beeper.
No, the more I thought about it, I realized what it is. It's that the South is pretty cool, and this guy just badmouthed it. Yeah, we have the heat and humidity...and the bugs. But do you know what else we have? Courtesy. Close-knit families. Sweet Tea. We open doors for each other at the gas station. When someone drops a twenty on the sidewalk we (well, most of us) pick it up, chase them down, and return it. We know how to work hard, but we know how to take it easy, too. On my initial lap around the park when I ride, nearly everybody gets a preliminary "hello" nod...and everybody returns the nod with a smile. Simply put, we're nice.
Sure, we have our downside. There are indeed racist people in the South. You know what, though? There are racist people in the North, Midwest, East Coast, West Coast, and everywhere between. Ignorance knows no regions. I ran into many more toothless rednecks over a weekend in Pennsylvania than I see in any given month in Georgia.
What also bugged me about what my friend said was the fact that he's from the south. If he was born and raised in New York City and had had this skewed perception of Southern people, I wouldn't care nearly as much. This guy, though, was one of my best friends when I lived in Tennessee. We used to race across Nashville - me in my mid-80's, beat-up Isuzu P'up and him in his mid-80's, beat-up Ford Bronco - to go hang out with my girlfriend and her friend that he was trying date. I look back fondly at that last summer before I moved to Georgia. We had as much fun as two 16-year-olds could probably have over the course of a summer. Now, he is 30. he and his (Georgia native) wife live in NYC, and racist, unintelligent, and entitled are his thoughts when he looks back at where he's from?
It just makes me sad, that's all. I don't generally beam with "Southern pride". I am, however, happy with how and where I was raised. It would take a lot of money to get me to go anywhere else, too (if you're offering, I can be reached at daniel.dorris@gmail.com).
Oh...and we're gonna rise again.
Just saw a FB post, and it reminded me of how glad I am I left the South. People are racist, live entitled and unintelligent.
Of course, there were a myriad of comments under the status update along the lines of, "Not everybody!", and "I'm not!". My personal favorite was "Now I remember why I left the north. People make sweeping generalizations and are eliteists and unintelligent."
I was really surprised at how upset that guy's comment made me. I like to think that I generally have my reactions in check. It takes a lot to make me mad. On top of that, I have never been one to stand up for my "Southern heritage". For some reason, though, that one comment by my friend really made my blood boil!
I couldn't help but think more and more about the comment and how it made me mad, but really what I pondered was why it made me so mad. Of course, there was the insinuation that I'm a racist who, despite my unintelligence, feels entitled (to exactly what, I don't know). That insinuation, though, couldn't be what made me mad. I've never been one to become angry at accusations that aren't true. It's like a mom joke. They never offended me, because I know that my mama isn't so fat she uses a VCR for a beeper.
No, the more I thought about it, I realized what it is. It's that the South is pretty cool, and this guy just badmouthed it. Yeah, we have the heat and humidity...and the bugs. But do you know what else we have? Courtesy. Close-knit families. Sweet Tea. We open doors for each other at the gas station. When someone drops a twenty on the sidewalk we (well, most of us) pick it up, chase them down, and return it. We know how to work hard, but we know how to take it easy, too. On my initial lap around the park when I ride, nearly everybody gets a preliminary "hello" nod...and everybody returns the nod with a smile. Simply put, we're nice.
Sure, we have our downside. There are indeed racist people in the South. You know what, though? There are racist people in the North, Midwest, East Coast, West Coast, and everywhere between. Ignorance knows no regions. I ran into many more toothless rednecks over a weekend in Pennsylvania than I see in any given month in Georgia.
What also bugged me about what my friend said was the fact that he's from the south. If he was born and raised in New York City and had had this skewed perception of Southern people, I wouldn't care nearly as much. This guy, though, was one of my best friends when I lived in Tennessee. We used to race across Nashville - me in my mid-80's, beat-up Isuzu P'up and him in his mid-80's, beat-up Ford Bronco - to go hang out with my girlfriend and her friend that he was trying date. I look back fondly at that last summer before I moved to Georgia. We had as much fun as two 16-year-olds could probably have over the course of a summer. Now, he is 30. he and his (Georgia native) wife live in NYC, and racist, unintelligent, and entitled are his thoughts when he looks back at where he's from?
It just makes me sad, that's all. I don't generally beam with "Southern pride". I am, however, happy with how and where I was raised. It would take a lot of money to get me to go anywhere else, too (if you're offering, I can be reached at daniel.dorris@gmail.com).
Oh...and we're gonna rise again.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
So I struggle with the urge every day to put something up on facebook about biking. How far I have been riding...how awesome it has been...how much weight I'm losing...etc. Sometimes I win the struggle and refrain from posting (because I'm sure most people find it annoying to read someone's status updates, when they're all about exercising). Other times I give in to the awesomeness I feel and post it regardless.
Anyway, a thought occurred to me this morning. Hey, I have a blog. This blog is purely about me. Coincidentally, it is also owned and operated by me. I can just say whatever I want.
So, here goes.
I've gone riding at a lot of parks over the past few weeks. I've been to Tribble Mill, Harbins, Rock Springs, Bay Creek, Mulberry, the other side of Mulberry, Ivy Creek Greenway, and Suwanee Greenway. All of them have their positives and their negatives. I have found, however, that there is one park that stands head and shoulders above the rest...Mulberry Park (actually, I think it's really Little Mulberry Park, but I don't really pay much attention to the signs when I arrive or when I leave).
The main trail at Mulberry is a 2.2-mile loop. With the exception of one stretch of about a quarter mile, it is all wooded (read: shaded...meaning I only sweat 3/4 of a gallon, rather than the full gallon). There are hills, but they aren't ridiculous, "chain-buster" type hills. They are just enough to challenge a rider to push harder, so as to not fall into complacency.
I ride this trail (usually) 4 laps in the morning and 4 laps after work. Each visit to the park results in 8.8 miles. I make sure to park at least 1/10 of a mile away from the entrance to the trail, so I can be honest in saying I rode a full 9 miles. This results in 18 miles a day. That's not too shabby if you ask me, considering that just a month ago, I was thrilled in averaging around 6 or so.
I don't really know that I'll be able to work this daily total up. This, however, is due to time constraints alone. I know it's probably frustrating for Kimberly when I don't get home every night until almost 7:00. I really appreciate her flexability and willingness to see me get into better shape...which brings me to my next point.
As I stated in my last (and so far, only) blog post about biking, I was not sure how much, if any, weight I had lost. Well, I know now. I have lost 23 pounds. As of Tuesday, June 15th, my weight was 267.0 lbs. I have no idea when the last time was that I was in the 260's. I definitely know I haven't been that low in the 6 years Kimberly and I have been married. I still have a long way (like at least 60 more pounds) to go, but so far I feel I'm off to a great start, and it doesn't seem nearly as daunting as it did a month ago.
Right now, I'm looking forward to a couple of things:
1) A week from this Saturday, I plan on going to ride the Silver Comet Trail. This starts in Smyrna, GA and goes all the way into Alabama. Naturally, I doubt I'll be able to ride all the way to Alabama, but I plan on starting around 8:00am, riding four hours, and turning around to ride back. Given my estimated average speed (and that this trail is mostly flat, from what I understand), I am estimating that I can cover somewhere from 60-70 miles just in one day. I'm pretty excited about it.
2) The following Saturday, Kimberly, Cohen, and I are leaving for the beach for a week, as we do every year with her family. Normally, this is a time when I let myself go, even more than normal. This will not be the case this year. I'm taking the bike with me. I plan on getting some BIG miles under me over the course of the week...and I won't have work hanging over me, limiting the amount of time I will have to ride.
Anyway, a thought occurred to me this morning. Hey, I have a blog. This blog is purely about me. Coincidentally, it is also owned and operated by me. I can just say whatever I want.
So, here goes.
I've gone riding at a lot of parks over the past few weeks. I've been to Tribble Mill, Harbins, Rock Springs, Bay Creek, Mulberry, the other side of Mulberry, Ivy Creek Greenway, and Suwanee Greenway. All of them have their positives and their negatives. I have found, however, that there is one park that stands head and shoulders above the rest...Mulberry Park (actually, I think it's really Little Mulberry Park, but I don't really pay much attention to the signs when I arrive or when I leave).
The main trail at Mulberry is a 2.2-mile loop. With the exception of one stretch of about a quarter mile, it is all wooded (read: shaded...meaning I only sweat 3/4 of a gallon, rather than the full gallon). There are hills, but they aren't ridiculous, "chain-buster" type hills. They are just enough to challenge a rider to push harder, so as to not fall into complacency.
I ride this trail (usually) 4 laps in the morning and 4 laps after work. Each visit to the park results in 8.8 miles. I make sure to park at least 1/10 of a mile away from the entrance to the trail, so I can be honest in saying I rode a full 9 miles. This results in 18 miles a day. That's not too shabby if you ask me, considering that just a month ago, I was thrilled in averaging around 6 or so.
I don't really know that I'll be able to work this daily total up. This, however, is due to time constraints alone. I know it's probably frustrating for Kimberly when I don't get home every night until almost 7:00. I really appreciate her flexability and willingness to see me get into better shape...which brings me to my next point.
As I stated in my last (and so far, only) blog post about biking, I was not sure how much, if any, weight I had lost. Well, I know now. I have lost 23 pounds. As of Tuesday, June 15th, my weight was 267.0 lbs. I have no idea when the last time was that I was in the 260's. I definitely know I haven't been that low in the 6 years Kimberly and I have been married. I still have a long way (like at least 60 more pounds) to go, but so far I feel I'm off to a great start, and it doesn't seem nearly as daunting as it did a month ago.
Right now, I'm looking forward to a couple of things:
1) A week from this Saturday, I plan on going to ride the Silver Comet Trail. This starts in Smyrna, GA and goes all the way into Alabama. Naturally, I doubt I'll be able to ride all the way to Alabama, but I plan on starting around 8:00am, riding four hours, and turning around to ride back. Given my estimated average speed (and that this trail is mostly flat, from what I understand), I am estimating that I can cover somewhere from 60-70 miles just in one day. I'm pretty excited about it.
2) The following Saturday, Kimberly, Cohen, and I are leaving for the beach for a week, as we do every year with her family. Normally, this is a time when I let myself go, even more than normal. This will not be the case this year. I'm taking the bike with me. I plan on getting some BIG miles under me over the course of the week...and I won't have work hanging over me, limiting the amount of time I will have to ride.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Uh oh...
Over the last month or so, Kimberly and I have found that Cohen loves to have about 3-5 minutes of "naked time" before his bath. I drop the diaper, and he shoots off through the house like a rocket. This has gone on without incident for about a month.
Last night, however, after about 3 fast-paced laps around his room, he ran over to his wagon (which houses his assortment of balls). He pulled a little basketball out of the bucket, and as I looked over to him, he looked back at me with a look of fear on his face. He was peeing. He stopped, took two steps back, and just kept on peeing some more. My initial reaction was "Oh no!". Almost immediately after that, I chuckled, told him it was okay, and alerted Kimberly of the situation.
I don't know if it was my initial "Oh no", or the fact that he probably has never actually seen himself pee, but he was horrified by the whole situation. He screamed and cried and carried on, and it took about 5 minutes to calm him down before we could brush his teeth and actually get him into the bath.
It's a nice little story to hold on to for when he is a teenager and has friends over.
Last night, however, after about 3 fast-paced laps around his room, he ran over to his wagon (which houses his assortment of balls). He pulled a little basketball out of the bucket, and as I looked over to him, he looked back at me with a look of fear on his face. He was peeing. He stopped, took two steps back, and just kept on peeing some more. My initial reaction was "Oh no!". Almost immediately after that, I chuckled, told him it was okay, and alerted Kimberly of the situation.
I don't know if it was my initial "Oh no", or the fact that he probably has never actually seen himself pee, but he was horrified by the whole situation. He screamed and cried and carried on, and it took about 5 minutes to calm him down before we could brush his teeth and actually get him into the bath.
It's a nice little story to hold on to for when he is a teenager and has friends over.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Who would've thought?
I've been what you'd call a "big guy" for about 20 years. I was a stick-thin kid until around 5th or 6th grade, then I just added a little weight here and there, never really taking any off. I don't think I ever actually got to the 300 mark that I know of, but when I went to the doctor 4 months after my 30th birthday, I weighed in at around 290.
It only slightly bothered me. I've always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. I never really killed myself about my weight. It didn't depress me. As far as I was concerned, I had a lot of other qualities that I liked about myself just fine, so I didn't let the weight get me down. Sure, I didn't necessarily enjoy being the fat guy, but all in all, I have a pretty sweet life, so who am I to complain? Over the past six years, Kimberly would make me go out and walk with her occasionally (I mean occasionally, like 2-3 times a year). It would be torture. I didn't want to do it, and I was miserable the whole time.
About a month ago, something just kind of clicked. I dont' know what it was. It was a Sunday morning, and Kimberly had "dragged me" out to the park under the guise of "We'll walk a little bit, then let Cohen play on the playground". Well, far be it from me to deny Cohen his precious swing time. I reluctantly agreed.
About 3/4 of the way through the 3 mile walk was when I noticed it...Hey, this is kind of killing me....but I kind of don't mind it. I think I could do this more often. I mentioned to Kimberly that I think I could be down for doing this at least once if not twice a week, and she was ecstatic.
Meanwhile, my buddy Nate had taken up biking. Actually, quite a few of my friends had cioncidentally taken up biking all around the same time. I had tried it a few years back, but I didn't really enjoy it all that much, so my bike had been collecting dust (more specifically, pollen and spiders) for about 6 years. I was content to keep walking with Kimberly.
A couple of weeks went by, and I was enjoying (well, not hating) the walking. Our jogging stroller has an iPod dock, so we would listen to a little inspirational music (BuckCherry, Squad Five-O, The Darkness) and do it a couple of times a week. At the end, I'd be drenched in sweat, but I felt good about it nonetheless. I couldn't help but think, though...if I did this on my bike, I could cover a lot more ground and do it faster.
One Saturday afternoon, hockey was cancelled because of rain that never actually came, so I had my chance. I pulled the bike off the wall, washed it off (with a hose from a distance....you know...the spiders), pumped up the tires and threw it in the back of my car. Off to Tribble Mill park I went.
Holy crap it was miserable.
I did the same 3 mile path Kimberly and I walk. It is pretty hilly. Some people don't mind the hills because - you know - every hill you go up, you also get to go down. I'm not one of those people. I finished the trail in about 22 minutes (it takes us about 40-45 to walk), and when I dismounted the bike, I almost fell down because my legs were absolutely killing me. Kimberly and I went the next morning and walked that same trail again, and I told her that I may not be able to keep up because my legs were so sore from the previous day's ride. As it turns out, I was able to keep up. I realized that while I was pretty sore, it didn't seem to bother me as much as I expected it to. I decided to go try it again on the bike the next chance I got.
That chance was the following Saturday afternoon. Once again, I loaded up the bike and headed out to the park. This time I finished in around 15 minutes. My legs still hurt, but it was slightly more bearable this time. I was actually getting a little excited about the prospect of riding more often.
My friend Nate is quite up to speed on all the local parks and trails, and he knows all the best places to ride. He mentioned the Ivy Creek Greenway, which is less than a half mile from where I work. I decided to go ride it Tuesday after work. It was pretty good...being the seasoned rider I was (you know...two 3 mile rides under my belt), I was able to knock it out pretty quick. I went home having ridden about 4 miles feeling pretty satisfied with myself.
Two days later, on Thursday, I went to the same trail after work. I went about 5 and a half miles that day. Other than heading straight from there to band practice, only to get laughed at for being soaked with sweat, it was a pretty good experience. Every time I rode, I covered just a little more ground than the previous time, and I was feeling pretty good about it.
I hadn't planned on riding Friday. Kimberly and I had an end-of-the-year teacher party to attend that night, so timing was going to be a little tight. I started out the door to head home, and I just couldn't do it...I had to do at least something. I went with Nate over to Rock Springs park and put in a quick three miles before heading home.
All in all, I was drastically improving every time I rode. This past Saturday, in a twist of fate, my entire day's schedule opened up at the last minute. Jackpot! I decided to test out my endurance and see how much I could do. I headed out to the Suwanee Creek Greenway. Where I parked was right in the middle of the trail, with about 2.5 miles on either side. I started left. I rode the 2.5 miles to the end and back....okay, that's 5 miles. When I got back, I decided to go right. I went about a mile going that way and came back. This brings my total to 7 miles. As usual, I was pretty sore and pretty tired, but I felt good about it. I thought to myself, I'll head toward home and stop at Rock Springs park. Maybe I'll do 3 miles there to bring it to an even ten for the day.
Rock Springs park has a 1/3 mile track, so it's easy to ride in increments, knowing exactly how far you've gone. I finished the first mile. Then I finished the second mile. Right around the time I was wrapping up the third mile, I thought, I think I can do a little more. So I just kept going around the track. 4 miles. 5 miles. I just kept going. By the time I stopped, I had ridden 7 miles on the track. This brought my total to 14 miles. In one day. This may not mean a lot to you, or to someone who rides regularly, but it's absolutely huge for me. I can't remember the last time I felt so good about something I had accomplished!
Sunday, after doing some around-the-house stuff we needed to knock out, Kimberly and I took Cohen to the park and walked again. It felt great. Despite having ridden 14 miles the previous day, my legs could not only handle the brisk walk but also the occasional bursts of jogging up hills. Can this actually be happening? Am I exercising? Am I making progress?
I had decided not to ride on Sunday. After getting back from the park, we jumped in the pool for a while. My plan was to climb out of the pool and watch the Braves game a little after 1:00. By 1:45, I could stand it...I had to go back to the park and ride some more. Rock Springs it was. After 9 laps around the track (3 miles), I decided to call it a day. I got back in the car and made it almost to the park gate before turning back around. I knew I had more in me than that. I went back to the track and strapped on my skates (the inlines I use for hockey). I had no idea what to expect. Maybe I'd do a lap or two and see how it went. I had finally had my fill after 6 laps. That was 3 miles on a bike and 2 miles on skates.
I couldn't believe how good I was feeling about all this! I went to bed Sunday night excited about my upcoming ride today after work. I planned on going back to Rock Springs (my new favorite place) and log about 7 more miles or so. The thought had crossed my mind that I could maybe do it before work, since I didn't have to take Cohen to Snellville this morning. However, in my old age lately, fully waking up has been harder and harder every day.
When I woke up this morning, I was just as groggy as I usually am. As Kimberly left for work, I decided that I should just go out and try it. Worst-case-scenario, if I didn't like it, I'd just go back after work, as was my original plan anyway. I pulled into the park, still rubbing my eyes and trying to fully wake myself up. Despite my muddled head, I climbed on my bike, put the iPod on GNR's Appetite for Destruction, and started pedaling. By the end of mile 1, my eyes were wide, my vision was clear, and I was fully awake. My legs hurt, but that hadn't stopped me yet, so I wasn't going to let it get to me today, either.
45 minutes later I was at the shop, changing out of my sweat-drenched clothes and cleaning up for work, having ridden 7 miles.
Just in case you haven't caught the theme here...I feel great! The fact that I would be exercising in and of itself is almost foreign to me, but the fact that I'm exercising and enjoying it...well, that's just ridiculous! I really think I'm starting to become addicted to riding my bike. Even having done the 7 miles this morning, I can't wait until work is over, so I can to at least seven more before I go home. Maybe I'll do ten, just to top Saturday!
I have no idea how much weight, if any, I have lost. Though I haven't changed my diet drastically, I have started eating more sensible portions. Also, I have cut out about 90 percent of my soda intake and replaced it with water. Instead of grabbing a handful of chips before going to bed, I have been drinking a glass of V8 splash (you know...the juice that has a complete serving of fruits and vegetables in each glass).
Point of it all is that it only took two weeks to get comfortable with a signifantly more active lifestyle.
I'm pretty happy about it.
It only slightly bothered me. I've always been a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. I never really killed myself about my weight. It didn't depress me. As far as I was concerned, I had a lot of other qualities that I liked about myself just fine, so I didn't let the weight get me down. Sure, I didn't necessarily enjoy being the fat guy, but all in all, I have a pretty sweet life, so who am I to complain? Over the past six years, Kimberly would make me go out and walk with her occasionally (I mean occasionally, like 2-3 times a year). It would be torture. I didn't want to do it, and I was miserable the whole time.
About a month ago, something just kind of clicked. I dont' know what it was. It was a Sunday morning, and Kimberly had "dragged me" out to the park under the guise of "We'll walk a little bit, then let Cohen play on the playground". Well, far be it from me to deny Cohen his precious swing time. I reluctantly agreed.
About 3/4 of the way through the 3 mile walk was when I noticed it...Hey, this is kind of killing me....but I kind of don't mind it. I think I could do this more often. I mentioned to Kimberly that I think I could be down for doing this at least once if not twice a week, and she was ecstatic.
Meanwhile, my buddy Nate had taken up biking. Actually, quite a few of my friends had cioncidentally taken up biking all around the same time. I had tried it a few years back, but I didn't really enjoy it all that much, so my bike had been collecting dust (more specifically, pollen and spiders) for about 6 years. I was content to keep walking with Kimberly.
A couple of weeks went by, and I was enjoying (well, not hating) the walking. Our jogging stroller has an iPod dock, so we would listen to a little inspirational music (BuckCherry, Squad Five-O, The Darkness) and do it a couple of times a week. At the end, I'd be drenched in sweat, but I felt good about it nonetheless. I couldn't help but think, though...if I did this on my bike, I could cover a lot more ground and do it faster.
One Saturday afternoon, hockey was cancelled because of rain that never actually came, so I had my chance. I pulled the bike off the wall, washed it off (with a hose from a distance....you know...the spiders), pumped up the tires and threw it in the back of my car. Off to Tribble Mill park I went.
Holy crap it was miserable.
I did the same 3 mile path Kimberly and I walk. It is pretty hilly. Some people don't mind the hills because - you know - every hill you go up, you also get to go down. I'm not one of those people. I finished the trail in about 22 minutes (it takes us about 40-45 to walk), and when I dismounted the bike, I almost fell down because my legs were absolutely killing me. Kimberly and I went the next morning and walked that same trail again, and I told her that I may not be able to keep up because my legs were so sore from the previous day's ride. As it turns out, I was able to keep up. I realized that while I was pretty sore, it didn't seem to bother me as much as I expected it to. I decided to go try it again on the bike the next chance I got.
That chance was the following Saturday afternoon. Once again, I loaded up the bike and headed out to the park. This time I finished in around 15 minutes. My legs still hurt, but it was slightly more bearable this time. I was actually getting a little excited about the prospect of riding more often.
My friend Nate is quite up to speed on all the local parks and trails, and he knows all the best places to ride. He mentioned the Ivy Creek Greenway, which is less than a half mile from where I work. I decided to go ride it Tuesday after work. It was pretty good...being the seasoned rider I was (you know...two 3 mile rides under my belt), I was able to knock it out pretty quick. I went home having ridden about 4 miles feeling pretty satisfied with myself.
Two days later, on Thursday, I went to the same trail after work. I went about 5 and a half miles that day. Other than heading straight from there to band practice, only to get laughed at for being soaked with sweat, it was a pretty good experience. Every time I rode, I covered just a little more ground than the previous time, and I was feeling pretty good about it.
I hadn't planned on riding Friday. Kimberly and I had an end-of-the-year teacher party to attend that night, so timing was going to be a little tight. I started out the door to head home, and I just couldn't do it...I had to do at least something. I went with Nate over to Rock Springs park and put in a quick three miles before heading home.
All in all, I was drastically improving every time I rode. This past Saturday, in a twist of fate, my entire day's schedule opened up at the last minute. Jackpot! I decided to test out my endurance and see how much I could do. I headed out to the Suwanee Creek Greenway. Where I parked was right in the middle of the trail, with about 2.5 miles on either side. I started left. I rode the 2.5 miles to the end and back....okay, that's 5 miles. When I got back, I decided to go right. I went about a mile going that way and came back. This brings my total to 7 miles. As usual, I was pretty sore and pretty tired, but I felt good about it. I thought to myself, I'll head toward home and stop at Rock Springs park. Maybe I'll do 3 miles there to bring it to an even ten for the day.
Rock Springs park has a 1/3 mile track, so it's easy to ride in increments, knowing exactly how far you've gone. I finished the first mile. Then I finished the second mile. Right around the time I was wrapping up the third mile, I thought, I think I can do a little more. So I just kept going around the track. 4 miles. 5 miles. I just kept going. By the time I stopped, I had ridden 7 miles on the track. This brought my total to 14 miles. In one day. This may not mean a lot to you, or to someone who rides regularly, but it's absolutely huge for me. I can't remember the last time I felt so good about something I had accomplished!
Sunday, after doing some around-the-house stuff we needed to knock out, Kimberly and I took Cohen to the park and walked again. It felt great. Despite having ridden 14 miles the previous day, my legs could not only handle the brisk walk but also the occasional bursts of jogging up hills. Can this actually be happening? Am I exercising? Am I making progress?
I had decided not to ride on Sunday. After getting back from the park, we jumped in the pool for a while. My plan was to climb out of the pool and watch the Braves game a little after 1:00. By 1:45, I could stand it...I had to go back to the park and ride some more. Rock Springs it was. After 9 laps around the track (3 miles), I decided to call it a day. I got back in the car and made it almost to the park gate before turning back around. I knew I had more in me than that. I went back to the track and strapped on my skates (the inlines I use for hockey). I had no idea what to expect. Maybe I'd do a lap or two and see how it went. I had finally had my fill after 6 laps. That was 3 miles on a bike and 2 miles on skates.
I couldn't believe how good I was feeling about all this! I went to bed Sunday night excited about my upcoming ride today after work. I planned on going back to Rock Springs (my new favorite place) and log about 7 more miles or so. The thought had crossed my mind that I could maybe do it before work, since I didn't have to take Cohen to Snellville this morning. However, in my old age lately, fully waking up has been harder and harder every day.
When I woke up this morning, I was just as groggy as I usually am. As Kimberly left for work, I decided that I should just go out and try it. Worst-case-scenario, if I didn't like it, I'd just go back after work, as was my original plan anyway. I pulled into the park, still rubbing my eyes and trying to fully wake myself up. Despite my muddled head, I climbed on my bike, put the iPod on GNR's Appetite for Destruction, and started pedaling. By the end of mile 1, my eyes were wide, my vision was clear, and I was fully awake. My legs hurt, but that hadn't stopped me yet, so I wasn't going to let it get to me today, either.
45 minutes later I was at the shop, changing out of my sweat-drenched clothes and cleaning up for work, having ridden 7 miles.
Just in case you haven't caught the theme here...I feel great! The fact that I would be exercising in and of itself is almost foreign to me, but the fact that I'm exercising and enjoying it...well, that's just ridiculous! I really think I'm starting to become addicted to riding my bike. Even having done the 7 miles this morning, I can't wait until work is over, so I can to at least seven more before I go home. Maybe I'll do ten, just to top Saturday!
I have no idea how much weight, if any, I have lost. Though I haven't changed my diet drastically, I have started eating more sensible portions. Also, I have cut out about 90 percent of my soda intake and replaced it with water. Instead of grabbing a handful of chips before going to bed, I have been drinking a glass of V8 splash (you know...the juice that has a complete serving of fruits and vegetables in each glass).
Point of it all is that it only took two weeks to get comfortable with a signifantly more active lifestyle.
I'm pretty happy about it.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Today I didn't even have to use my AK...
Ever have one of those days, when everything is just awesome?
Yesterday, when I got to work in the morning, one of our first calls was from Nick Dixon, the clubhouse manager for the Gwinnett Braves. He said he needed us to do some nameplates for him. We've done nameplates for the G-Braves in the past. We did them for the offices of the Manager, General Manager, Marketing people, etc. So I was quite surprised when he came in later with a player's locker nameplate he wanted us to reproduce! I get giddy whenever we do anything having to do with the Gwinnett Braves. Now, I get to make the nameplates that are going on the lockers of the likes of Jordan Schafer, Gregor Blanco, Brandon Jones, etc. You may not know all those guys, but I do, and I'm pretty darn excited about it.
THEN, I saw a facebook update from Kris Oas, mentioning that the McDonalds in Lawrenceville has the super-fancy, futuristic, touch screen Coke fountain machine. This machine has over 100 flavor options, including Sprite in the flavors of grape, raspberry, and peach; and Coke in the flavors of Vanilla, Lime, Grape, Orange, Raspberry. As soon as Oas confirmed which McDonalds it was, I was on my way. I started out with a little Grape Sprite, followed by Orange Coke, followed by Grape Vault, and closed it out with Peach Sprite, and I was on my way. Every flavor was awesome. I'm a "new soft drink flavor" nerd, so it was like Christmas for me.
THEN, after I got back to work, the waiting game started. It was....wait for it....BRAVES OPENING DAY! The game was set to start at 4:00. I would have loved to actually go to the opening game, and for the life of me, I really don't know why I didn't. I did enjoy getting a nice update from Chris on Jason Heyward's debut at-bat/debut home run. As soon as the clock hit 5:30, I was out the door to go home and watch the last half of the game.
When I got home, it was about 5:45. Kimberly and Cohen walked in the door shortly after. Cohen immediately ran into the living room and grabbed the (nerf-style) baseball, and we played catch for about 15 minutes (for real...the kid's got an arm!). He then took the ball and stood in front of the TV, mimicking the pitcher, throwing the ball everytime the pitcher threw the ball. It was quite possibly my proudest moment to date as a father.
As the game was winding down (16-5 was the final score), I hopped in the car and headed over to Mike's house for Last Chucks practice. It was a pretty good practice. Hot as crap, and I was sweating through my shirt by the second song, but that's okay.
Point of it all is...yesterday was an all-around awesome day. No barking from the dog. No smog. The Lakers beat the Supersonics. And, I even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp.
Yesterday, when I got to work in the morning, one of our first calls was from Nick Dixon, the clubhouse manager for the Gwinnett Braves. He said he needed us to do some nameplates for him. We've done nameplates for the G-Braves in the past. We did them for the offices of the Manager, General Manager, Marketing people, etc. So I was quite surprised when he came in later with a player's locker nameplate he wanted us to reproduce! I get giddy whenever we do anything having to do with the Gwinnett Braves. Now, I get to make the nameplates that are going on the lockers of the likes of Jordan Schafer, Gregor Blanco, Brandon Jones, etc. You may not know all those guys, but I do, and I'm pretty darn excited about it.
THEN, I saw a facebook update from Kris Oas, mentioning that the McDonalds in Lawrenceville has the super-fancy, futuristic, touch screen Coke fountain machine. This machine has over 100 flavor options, including Sprite in the flavors of grape, raspberry, and peach; and Coke in the flavors of Vanilla, Lime, Grape, Orange, Raspberry. As soon as Oas confirmed which McDonalds it was, I was on my way. I started out with a little Grape Sprite, followed by Orange Coke, followed by Grape Vault, and closed it out with Peach Sprite, and I was on my way. Every flavor was awesome. I'm a "new soft drink flavor" nerd, so it was like Christmas for me.
THEN, after I got back to work, the waiting game started. It was....wait for it....BRAVES OPENING DAY! The game was set to start at 4:00. I would have loved to actually go to the opening game, and for the life of me, I really don't know why I didn't. I did enjoy getting a nice update from Chris on Jason Heyward's debut at-bat/debut home run. As soon as the clock hit 5:30, I was out the door to go home and watch the last half of the game.
When I got home, it was about 5:45. Kimberly and Cohen walked in the door shortly after. Cohen immediately ran into the living room and grabbed the (nerf-style) baseball, and we played catch for about 15 minutes (for real...the kid's got an arm!). He then took the ball and stood in front of the TV, mimicking the pitcher, throwing the ball everytime the pitcher threw the ball. It was quite possibly my proudest moment to date as a father.
As the game was winding down (16-5 was the final score), I hopped in the car and headed over to Mike's house for Last Chucks practice. It was a pretty good practice. Hot as crap, and I was sweating through my shirt by the second song, but that's okay.
Point of it all is...yesterday was an all-around awesome day. No barking from the dog. No smog. The Lakers beat the Supersonics. And, I even saw the lights of the Goodyear Blimp.
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