The Second Coming of Chris

Coughing my way through dead birds...

2010-09-27T19:19:00.000-07:00

This past week has been a bit of a bust. Unfortunately, Seb had to postpone my training session from last Monday and we rescheduled to later in the week. By the time Thursday rolled around, it was official. I was sick.

I still am.
And I hate it.

Some people say that if your cold is contained above your shoulders, that you can continue to workout. If it moves into your chest, you're screwed. Normally I follow that 'rule', but this time I'm just too tired to do much of anything. And it's not just because I'm sick.

The past few weeks at work have been pretty hectic. When people ask me what I do for a living, I tell them that I deal with dead birds. I'm neither a veterinarian, nor an animal rights activist. I'm a student services professional -- and I have the pleasure of dealing with dead birds.

Allow me to explain.

A colleague of mine once made the analogy of the work that we do in problem solving complex situations for university student being similar to that moment when the cat comes in the house, with a dead bird hanging out of its mouth. It comes to your feet, drops the bird (often still breathing, so not technically dead), and looks up at you as if to say:

"You're special. I like you. You're the only one who has what it takes to deal with this. Please. (Meow)"

And then the cat walks away, leaving you to clean up the mess -- to decide whether or not to resuscitate or put the bird out of its misery. It's a choice. And a powerful one. And a decision not to be taken lightly.

The first three weeks back to school have consisted of a lot of choices, and a few tough decisions. I've been dealing with some complex situations, and a lot of questions -- a lot of issues that to some people are dead birds to be dealt with. And sometimes those issues, to me, are not quite dead yet. I've had to so some workplace CPR. I've had to do some clean up. And in some ways, at times, it feels like I'm the only one who can deal with it. Yes, I feel fulfilled, and busy... but I also feel tired.

Being a dead-bird expert is exhausting.

And I think that's where the cold kicked in. I haven't been training a lot. I haven't been eating poorly. I haven't been eating well. I haven't had the best sleeps. So my system is weak. It's tired. It's vulnerable. I wasn't prepared for the back to school season to be this busy, or this hectic.

My system is a bit of dead bird.
And I'm taking some time to bring it back to life.

I thought that running the Scotiabank 5k on Sunday would help. This was the day that I was supposed to run my half marathon -- but I had decided after I got back from my bike rally that I didn't have sufficient time to properly and safely train. So, I withdrew from the half marathon, and ran the 5k instead.

Normally, running 5-km is not really a big deal. It is however, when you're on your race pace (of 4:50/km) and have to stop at kilometer #2 to spend about 3 minutes coughing and blowing your nose. My sinuses chose kilometer #2 to empty themselves.

It wasn't pretty.
It was kind of disgusting.
I'm glad I brought tissues -- I'm 'that' kind of a runner.

But I kept running. I finished the race in just about 30 minutes. I was aiming for 25 minutes, and started with a pace that would have allowed me to finish just under that. But the cold and sinus infection didn't help. I was disappointed by my performance, and even as I crossed the finish line with the marathoners, I was jealous. I was a bit remiss. There was a part of me that wished I had taken the time to train for the half marathon -- and I would have been able to experience that high, the elation of the finish.

Maybe that would have made me feel better. But I don't think it would have. I would have likely felt worse. Because I likely wouldn't have finished a half-marathon -- with my head full of snot, and my body too tired to function.

So even though I have added another finisher's medal to my collection, I sit here tonight, sniffling, sneezing, blowing my nose, putting lotion on my nostrils, and feeling like I'm swallowing glass. Apparently, I'm 'resting'. There's a big part of me that realizes that the rest is necessary. And there's another part of me that is pissed off that I had to miss my second workout with Seb in as many weeks.

I miss training.

I miss towelling off the sweat from a crazy set of plyometrics, instead of towelling off because I'm running a fever.

I miss the spike in energy that follows a training session... instead of hoping that my morning coffee gives me the spike I need to last through the day.

I miss feeling exhausted from a workout, instead of feeling fatigued from illness.

I miss it.
But I'll be back.

Just like the dead birds I bring back to life.

Chirp chirp.

Kia kaha,
Stay strong.

Big time.

2010-09-19T18:52:00.000-07:00

Bless me bloggers, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last blog post... And this is what I've been up to...

Now that I've got that flashback to Catholicism out of my way... I can get on with this post. LOL. Indeed, it has been three months since my last posting. And what an amazing three months it has been.

Why amazing? Well, two weeks ago, I started back into my regular training routine with Sebastien. Indeed, we trained together over the course of the summer as I geared up and prepared for my 600km bike ride. But over that period of time, we focused on building my cardiovascular and muscular endurance for the intensity of cycling from Toronto to Montreal. This meant that I had to train in a very different way than I was used to -- we cut out a lot of the intense weightlifting, and minimized the high intensity work I was doing, to ensure that I didn't get injured. Without a doubt, all of the training I had done up until this past summer had gotten me well prepared physically and emotionally for the ride, but my training and my diet had to be fairly specific and tailored for distance cycling as a very particular type of activity.

All of this also meant that in some ways, I was going to have to prepare myself for the reality that my body weight would change... in other words, that I would gain back some of those dreaded pounds that I worked so hard to take off.

And I did.
Big time.

Two weeks ago, I stepped back onto the scale for the first time in over three months. And I wasn't impressed with what I saw. I didn't just gain back a few pounds... I gained back about 30 of them. Thirty pounds in three months. Not bad... sure, not bad if you're losing. But gaining? Seriously? Again?

But what was intriguing in that split second moment in time, when I stepped off the scale, I looked at the number, looked at Sebastien (who was likely prepared for me to punch the wall), and said...

"I just had the best summer of my life. I enjoyed every single one of those pounds."

And I did.
Big time.

Over the course of three months, I spent tonnes of time outside -- running, cycling, and walking the dog. I also spent fantastic evenings and afternoons sitting on patios, drinking good wine, eating food that was even better than the wine, and dancing my ass off. I rode my bike over six days to Montreal for an amazing cause, and met incredible new friends along the way.

I relaxed.
I had fun.
I lived.

And in the words of my trainer...
I chilled the F*$@ out.

So, chilling out meant that I put on a few pounds. It's not a huge deal. It really isn't. Sure, my clothes are a bit tighter (which I initially blamed on the dry-cleaner for shrinking my shirts). Certainly, I feel a bit heavier. But mentally, I'm confident. I'm strong. I know how I got to this place, and I know how to get out of it.

How did I get to this place? People have asked me: How, when you ride your bike to Montreal, do you still gain weight? Essentially, in preparing for my ride, I did nothing but cycle for endurance. I rode my bike outside. I did indoor spin classes. I ran... every once in a while. I hardly lifted a weight (one of the magic secrets to weight loss). And while I ate well, I ate a diet that was much more dense in carbohydrates that I had eaten in a long time. I also drank cold beer... ate great burgers... and fell in love...with Cold Stone Creamery Peanut Butter Perfection Ice Cream.

But that's what summer is about, right? Barbeques. Sunshine. Ice cream. Relaxation. Did I mention, ice cream? Mmmm....

The other reality is that when you train in this way, coupled with a week of intense riding, and three weeks of 'recovery', because I was exhausted at a cellular level, that my body responded by hanging onto lots of calories... good and bad. And from that exhaustion, I made the smart decision to not run my half marathon next weekend, because I knew I wouldn't have the appropriate time to prepare.

And I also put on some muscle.
Lots of muscle.
Have you seen my legs lately???
I got legs... big time.

All that said, I'm ready to get back into the swing of my training routine. I'm looking forward to building more muscle and shaving the Cold Stone Creamery Ice Cream from my mid-section. I'm excited about getting back to lifting weights at the gym, teaching even more challenging spin classes, and living life.

I'm back.
Big time.

This also means I'm back to blogging. Admittedly, I needed a break from the thinking... the processing... the writing about myself and my life. And I come back to this medium refreshed, revitalized, and rejuvenated in the knowledge that not only did I have the best summer of my life, but I also had the best year of my life. On this weekend, as I celebrate my 37th birthday, I reflect upon my accomplishments... my successes... my friends... my life.

And I loved every good, bad, challenging, emotional, messy, jubilant, celebratory, stressful, incredible moment of it.
Big time.

Absolutely, big time.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Six days, six hundred kilometers, six thousand dollars...

2010-06-06T17:25:00.000-07:00

It wasn't soon after posting my last blog that I began to receive messages from readers telling me not to be so hard on myself, to be proud of what I've accomplished, and in once case, to chill the F&%K out. First of all... thanks for the feedback. Secondly, I realize that I am incredibly tough on myself. I'm a Type-A personality with high expectations of others and myself. And over the past two years of course, I've been moving full speed through my life, knocking past my goals one by one. Getting to my most recent goal, being 200 pounds for my charity bike ride to Montreal has been VERY slow coming... yes, I'm developing lots of muscle (have you seen my legs lately? LOL!) and my measurements are still going in the right direction. So, I've had to shift my thinking quite a bit about what success looks like, and what indicates whether or not I've achieved my goals.

That said, while I've been spending time in my head shifting my expectations of myself, I've also spent a lot of time out on the road shifting gears on my bike. I'm riding in the 2010 Friends for Life Bike Rally -- a 6-day, 600km bike ride to raise money for the Toronto People With AIDS Foundation, an incredible organization that provides tremendous support through direct service programs to men, women and children living with HIV/AIDS. My friend Jonathan convinced me to participate in this year's ride, and since I now live my life in possibility, and trying to do one thing a day that scares the crap out of me, I agreed. Granted, Jonathan is an incredible cyclist, and agreed to run the half-marathon with me in September if I agreed to do this bike ride with him in July. That said, I never knew I would come to enjoy riding outdoors so much.

Over the past two months, I have gotten back in the saddle, and taken all of my hard work from indoor cycling to the road, experiencing a degree of power and freedom like never before. I've travelled over 1000km in training rides so far, and even cranked out 170km this weekend alone in a 24-hour period. I've seen parts of the greater Toronto region that I had only seen through the car window, and met a crew of fascinating and inspiring people who are passionate not only about cycling, but also about this important cause.

And surrounding myself with passionate and powerful people is just what I needed to give myself a kick in the a$$.

Two weeks ago, I was riding on this incredible stretch of highway north of Toronto. We were about 30km into our training ride (of which there are two each week), when I broke away from my pack of fellow riders to tackle the road ahead. Taunton Road is a long stretch of rolling hills, made up of slow climbs and long descents that can challenge many riders, and make many more excited by what it takes to make it through that leg of the ride. As I turned onto Taunton Road, a friend told me that this leg almost made him cry last year -- and that made me want to tackle it even more.

As I rode along the road in the blazing sun, there was no one behind me and no one ahead of me. Cars flew by me at 80+ km/hour, and the generous shoulder on the road provided me with a comfortable and safe buffer from the vehicles sharing the road. My goal for this stretch was to maintain a steady pace -- about 80 rpm -- that would allow me to ride efficiently and powerfully. And as I started out on the first gradual incline, I felt the energy flow through my body and provide the fuel I needed to ride fast, ride hard, and ride strong. I felt a bit of tightness in my quadriceps, a quick indication that I needed to adjust my pedal stroke and drive through the heels of my feel, thereby activating my glutes (they're looking pretty fab too, these days... LOL!) and giving me more muscle strength on every drive. I remembered what I tell participants in my spin class -- I tightened my core, relaxed my shoulders, and neutralized my pelvis, bringing me into the most comfortable and powerful riding position to conquer this stretch of road.

And then I took a deep breath... and began to power through the ride.

My breathing was deep and strong. My heart rate monitor was comfortable, and my cadence was strong. I pedalled along at about 75-80 rpm, with the only thing keeping me moving being the power of each push and pull of my feet on the pedals. I focused my energy on my breathing, and remembered that every stroke begins with a breath (yet another tip I tell all of my spin participants), and allowed my breathing to drive my pace.

And at that moment, I fell into the most comfortable and powerful zone I have ever felt on my bike.

Remembering that I only started to cycle outdoors two months ago, I began to feel the freedom that the bike provides. More importantly, I began to realize the power that my body possesses. The only thing that was going to push me along that fated stretch of road was knowing that the synchronicity of my thinking, my breath, my muscles and the technology upon which I sat. And that realization was liberating.

Quickly, I became incredibly proud of myself. With every grinding climb and long descent (especially the one I took at just over 60km/h), I remembered that two years ago, I never would have been able to experience power and speed quite like this. I never would have heard the depth of my breath coming into rhythm with my pedal stroke, which was only matched by the sound of the wind blowing past my ears and the heat of the sun bearing down on me.

And then I realized how addictive cycling could be.
Forget that.
I realized how addictive cycling had become.
And I never anticipated that I would like it so much.

If you've followed this blog, you've read about how much I love indoor cycling. But imagine taking the high you get from that one-hour intense workout and magnifying it with the momentum of a bike that actually moves... and the feeling of conquering a real hill... the exhilaration of racing down a decline... the satisfaction of knowing that you've reached your destination on no more than two wheels.

Imagine that and you'll begin to appreciate why I'm loving this so much.

I'm spending time outdoors in the company of people who love cycling as much as (if not more) than I do. And I'm learning lots from them in the process. I'm breathing in fresh air north of the city that I've not taken into my body in a very long time. I'm getting the tan I've always wanted (and the tanlines to match), LOL!

It's a truly wonderful experience... helping me to transform my thinking (yet again) and take my sense of self as a physical person, as an active person, as an athlete, to a whole new level.

And I can't wait to ride to Montreal.

So back to 'the ride' (as it's come to be known...)

Seven weeks from today, I will hit the road with hundreds of other men and women, riding to raise money for the Toronto People With AIDS Foundation. Each participant has to raise a minimum of $2200 to participate -- and I met that goal a long time ago. I have set a new goal to raise $6000... 600km, 6 days, $6000... it has a certain ring to it, doesn't it? When I meet my goal, I'll get a 'top fundraiser' gold cycling jersey (I'm a sucker for accessories), and I'll have the pride and satisfaction of knowing that I not only surpassed my initial goal, but more importantly, that I've raised a wonderful amount of money that will go far to help people in need in my community.

All that from riding a bike... pretty incredible, eh?

That said, if you're interested in helping me meet (and surpass my $6000 goal), visit my donation site here, where you can make an on-line tax deductible donation. While 'the ride' will take me on a 600km ride between two of my favorite cities in Canada (Toronto and Montreal), it will give me the opportunity to work harder and stronger than I ever have before.

I hope you'll take advantage of this opportunity to help.

Kia kaha (Stay strong)

It feels like I'm dragging my feet....

2010-05-07T17:53:00.001-07:00

In the past four months, I will admit that I've been neglecting my blog a bit. Well, quite a bit. I haven't been taking the time to think, to write, and to reflect as much on this journey because.. well, I think subconsciously, part of me thought the journey had come to a bit of an end. As you recall, in early December, I shattered my weight loss goal and dropped a phenomenal 201.6 pounds ahead of schedule. The elation, the satisfaction, and the pride were all happening at a magnitude that I have never before experienced.

And so was the feeling of relief.
Let me tell you what I mean...

For the weeks that followed that December 2 night, I gave myself permission to relax a little bit. I eased up on my exercise routine. I cheated on my food a little bit more than I had in the two years prior. I gave myself the space to live life a little bit more freely than I had before, and in some ways, I was subconsciously 'testing' the idea of what my new 'normal' in life would be like. I was testing whether or not I could trust myself to live my life in a little bit less of a regimented way, and in many ways, I was testing just how slippery the slope back into an unhealthy lifestyle would be.

I learned that my slope wasn't very slippery at all. It's got lots of traction. The past two years have given me tremendous traction in the form of good eating, exercise and mindfulness practices that have helped me not only to be successful, but more importantly, to truly transform my way of being in the world. And it felt fantastic to know that I had not only the knowledge, but also the willpower to know what it takes to 'never go back'.

But what's been interesting, is that over the months that have followed, in spite of not going back, I don't necessarily feel like I've moved very far forward.

Early in the new year, Sebastien and I sat down to define some new goals for the year ahead. One of those goals was to weigh 200 pounds in time for my 600km bike ride to Montreal. This was a very achievable goal... I had given myself 6.5 months to lose another 35 pounds. Given what I had accomplished in the years before, I thought it would be easy. Sebastien warned me that these last 35 would likely be the hardest... but I didn't believe him. I mean, I had the skills. I had the knowledge. How could I not achieve the goal?

I'm not sure I had convinced myself that I wanted to actually achieve it.

You see, in the past four months, my weight hasn't changed very much. Well, it has changed quite a bit... all within the same 10-pound zone. I've gained. I've lost. I've gained, and lost again. And even though I know... cognitively... that the number on the scale isn't the only indication of my success, I can't help but now realize that it's really starting to get me down.

And it's not like I don't have an explanation for why it's happening.

It's happening because I feel like I've been really dragging my feet for the past few months.
Because I'm tired. I'm really really tired.

In fact, I think I'm a little bit exhausted.

A lot has gone on in the past four months..

I became a certified indoor cycling instructor.
I've started teaching regular spinning classes.
I've started leading a small but mighty weekly running group
I hosted a really successful fundraiser for the bike rally with my friend Jonathan.
I wrote my comprehensive exam for my PhD (and passed).
I ran the Mercedes-Benz Oakville 10k road race in a time of 1:01:45, in 5 degree weather, pouring rain and 25-30km headwinds.
Six days later, I ran the Toronto Sporting Life 10k in 57:45:00 in 19 degree weather, 98 percent humidity, and even stopped for a moment at the 7km mark to pay my respects to a fellow participant who was on the receiving end of full chest compressions from a heart attack.

I've even had my first sports injury (bruised carpals in my left hand) from kickboxing.

So, yeah, I've been busy. I'm still achieving. But I don't feel like I'm achieving what I'd like to be achieving. I don't like the fact that in just under 3 months, I will be heading out to Montreal on my bike...likely not at my goal weight.

And one of the things I've learned about myself is that when I start to get off track... it's easy for me to veer far off the track... and struggle to get back on again. So, in spite of still working hard at the gym, and running lots, my food has been the pits. I told Sebastien on Wednesday night that I couldn't remember the last time I ate a salad. I hadn't put raw broccoli in my system for weeks (although I had 4 cups with dinner tonight... steer clear of me.... I'm a bit gassy). And for the first time in 2 years, he looked me directly in the eyes and said nothing.

The look said it all.
Kind of like one of those looks only your Mom can give you.
But this one came from my trainer.

This look said:
Chris, you can do better.
Chris, you know you should do better.
Chris, you deserve better.

And it's interesting, because I've had that look etched in my mind for the past two nights. Yes, it's helping me get back on track, but I have to realize that getting back is going to take a bit of time. I can't jump whole-hog into my old (intense) regime. Because the pace and intensity of the past two years is still fatiguing me. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I wish it were easier for me to just get away. To escape for a little while and take a breather. But I feel like that's what I've been doing for the past few months. I've relaxed a lot. I've discovered the joys of Cold Stone Creamery Ice Cream. I've been eating out... a lot. And I've developed a taste for a cold pint of Blanche de Chambly beer. So yes, I'm living life. But I'm a bit unreconciled about doing so. Because I'm not feeling as great as I used to feel. Yes, I still train like a maniac... but my feet are dragging because the food I'm consuming is not fueling my body or my mind in the ways that I need it to.

All that said, tonight, I am recommitting myself to getting back on track. My friend Sammie Kennedy has issued a challenge to followers of her blog, and participants in her boot camp programs through BootyCamp Fitness. And I think I'll follow along...

I'm giving up:

refined sugar
dairy
alcohol

(so, bye bye to Cold Stone and Blanche de Chambly)!

I'm adding

one LARGE salad into my eating plan every day

and I'm going to promise both Sebastien and Sammie that I will do 3 minutes of belly breathing EACH and EVERY day. (Sammie's challenge only requires one minute, but I know that 3 minutes works better for me). If you don't know what belly breathing is, check out Sammie's video. It's an incredibly easy way to deepen your core workout and complement all of the other great things you should do to work your abdomen. I swear... when I do my belly breathing correctly, I feel that abdominal burn in such a wonderfully intense way.

And that's what I'm going to do to get back into the game. Why? Because Sammie is doing the same thing as she prepares for her upcoming fitness competition, and she works out just as (if not harder) than I do. And also because it's what I know I should do to be feeling better about myself. I know that when I eat right, am active, and feel that deep burn in my core (from an ab workout, not from a plate of nachos, LOL!) that I feel fantastic.

So I know what I have to do.
Now, i just have to do it.

And I'm going to stop dragging my feet.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

"You must feel sooo different!"

2010-04-12T19:30:00.000-07:00

This is not an uncommon thing for me to hear these days... and it's something I've been thinking about for the past two months or so. That's partially why I haven't posted anything in that time. But I've also been terribly busy. I finally wrote my comprehensive exam for my PhD, and have been spending time trying to get a sense of what 'normal' feels like. My mind has been racing with so many things -- and I've often wanted to turn to the computer to put my thoughts into words. But it has taken me a while to do so... my apologies for taking so long!

That said, the whole idea of 'feeling different' has been on my mind for a long time -- not only because I am reconciling what it's like to be in a new body, but also because the comment "You must feel soooo different" is the most common thing people tell me these days. Over the past two years of my transformation, people tend to tell me 1) how great I look and 2) ask me how different I feel.

My response to both comments tend to be: 1) "Thanks very much, it's been a fantastic experience." and 2) "Yes, I feel great."

But to be honest, I'm not sure if I feel 'great'. I know I 'feel'. But I'm not sure how that feels any different that how I felt as a 435-pound man.

Because two years ago, I'm not so sure I actually 'felt'.

I have written in this blog about my experiences in facing my fears, coming to terms with things like anxiety, understanding that depression was a part of my life, and feeling joy. There's a lot of 'feeling' packed into all of those things, but I can't necessarily say that I know what things were like before.

Over the past two months of experimenting with the idea of my new 'normal' lifestyle, I have taken up yoga. My instructor Edward McEneany, also spins with me at Legacy Indoor Cycling in Toronto, and twice a week, he offers an ashtanga vinyasa yoga class. I had been doing the Biggest Loser Yoga video in the sanctity/privacy of my living room for a while, but had never ventured into an actual 'class'. And Edward convinced me to give it a try.

I was nervous at first, because when I do yoga at home, I curse like a sailor. I grunt. I moan. I yell at Bob Harper on the TV when he tells us to move into 'downward dog' or 'warrior 2'. My muscles feel tight. My body feels contorted. Physically, I feel what I'm doing. But it was only when I started taking classes with Edward that I have begun to truly connect what I feel 'physically' to what I feel 'emotionally'.

I am the type of person who has a hard time hiding his emotions: stress, anger, happiness... whatever the emotion, it shows. And the negative emotions, over so many years of being obese, have taken their toll on my body. My friend Tony once told me that the body holds emotion, and that as I lost weight, I went through a period of feeling like my emotions weren't under control. I literally was crying into my quinoa. And I ended up spending some time with a great therapist, and came to better understand my feelings of anxiety and depression. But I never made the mind-body connection of those emotions, and continued to carry them with me physically. No matter how often I found myself occasionally having a good 'power cry' in the car on the way to/from work, I still didn't come to a full realization of how my head, my heart, and my body are so strongly connected. And it was my inability to see that connection that allowed me to continue carrying the emotion on my body -- in my shoulders, in the back of my jaw, in my lower back and hips -- all areas that my massage therapist and now my yoga teacher, tell me to loosen, and stretch and strengthen because those are among the many physical places where I hold my stress and emotion.

But these sensations are still relatively new.
And it's interesting to begin answering question #2 (How different do you feel?), with:
"You know... I don't know if I feel different. Because two years ago, I don't think I actually 'felt'."

And that answer makes for a great conversation.

I know that two years ago I felt sad. I felt fat. I felt heavy. I felt angry. But those adjectives are merely descriptors of how I felt... I'm not entirely certain that I know what those feelings were actually like. So, it's difficult to say that I necessarily feel different.

My new answer is that "Now, I feel."

Spending Tuesday evenings and the occasional Sunday in a series of sun salutations and other yoga postures (which recently included a handstand!!!) has forced me to come to a place of quiet -- a place where I "start by stopping" and focus on breathing.

And being.

And by consequence, I focus on feeling.

I'm learning to understand how I attach and detach from different things in my life -- physically, emotionally and cognitively. I don't think I was ever able to understand how these things felt in these ways because I had over 200 pounds and 10 feet of body fat in the way. Literally. It's hard to know how you feel on the outside when there is literally feet and inches between the surface of your skin -- that exterior that shows the emotion that is so hard to hide -- and your inner core where the emotion and feeling truly exists. So the idea of feeling 'different' is a bit abstract.

I think it's now about feeling 'new'.

I realize that this whole commentary may seem a bit etheral... a bit abstract... a bit 'in my head'. But that's where it's been for a while. And thanks for indulging these few moments to let me get it out. It has been fantastic however, to spend time in my yoga classes trying to master a series of postures knowing that I am working my inner self just as much as I am beginning to work my physical selt.

I know.. it sounds very 'granola'.
It sounds very 'earthy'.
It sounds very 'yoga'.

But I guess I'm becoming a bit 'yoga'. I'm an athlete. I train hard. I run. I ride. And now, I spend time contorting my body and my soul into new positions that provide an incredible level of physical and emotional release and challenge that I've never felt before. And I look forward to my yoga class every week -- because as a 'work out', it consistently works out all parts of my being.

And I'm pretty damn lucky to be taking my transformation to this whole new level.

Kia kaha (stay strong).
And Namaste.

PS. I promise to write more in the next two weeks... I've got updates on my training for my 600km charity bike ride, new stuff about spinning, my training for two 10km-road races in the next three weeks... but first... next week... a new kickboxing video!!! From yoga to kickboxing... I'm a renaissance man! Screw it. I AM A RENAISSANCE! ;)

...and the student becomes the teacher. Literally.

2010-02-20T11:02:00.000-08:00

So, I realize that I've not blogged for a little while... it has been a few weeks at least, and admittedly, there's a part of me that wants to only write when I feel like I have something important to say. And since my last post, I've accomplished one of my goals for 2010.

I am now a certified indoor cycling instructor.

Very cool. As you know, I took up indoor cycling (spinning) last fall, and found very quickly that it helped to push me through a plateau in my weight loss journey, and catalyzed a motivation in me that propelled me to my goal of dropping 200 pounds before Christmas. The experience of indoor cycling has taken me out of the gym in many ways -- it has helped me move from feeling like my fitness experience is a solitary journey into one that includes being a member of a community. My fellow participants at Legacy Indoor Cycling in Toronto are motivating, inspiring, and fun to be around -- and the teachers there who have helped me accomplish my goals compelled me to take the certification course and head down the path of sharing my enthusiasm for this fitness activity with others.

So last weekend, I spent 10 1/2 hours at the Legacy Studio, under the tutelage of James Gekko (a Master Trainer with Schwinn) and the watchful eye of Andy (Legacy's patriarch), and soaked up what I needed to learn to become certified. I learned a lot about technique. I learned about how to structure a meaningful class for participants. I also learned that becoming an instructor presents me with an opportunity to do something that I think is going to be an important part of my journey from here on in: now is my time to really pay it forward.

I continue to acknowledge the tremendous fortune I have had in meeting people like Sebastien, the staff at Riverdale, Andy at Legacy and so many others who have been such an influential part of my journey. Call it serendipity. Call it luck. Call it the universe providing in some way shape or form... but my encounters with these fitness professionals, and the numerous other people who are fighting the good fight against obesity, have helped me to become the success story I am today. And while I recognize that I've still got a little ways to go before I get to what I think is my eventual weight loss 'destination', I can't help but feel like I am primed and ready to start actively coaching, sharing, and helping other people around me see the potential in themselves that so many other people have helped me to see in myself. And becoming a certified indoor cycling instructor was an important first step.

If you have been a regular follower of my blog, you will recall that one of the biggest struggles I've had over the past two years has been around feeling like I 'belong' in the world of health and fitness. For over 20 years, I've felt like an outsider to this incredible world in which so many people come to realize their fullest potential. And I've had many mental, physical and emotional breakthroughs along the way that have helped me to finally feel like an insider. Last week, someone approached me during one of my workouts and told me that I was their 'hero'... that they really admired how hard I worked, and that I 'showed up' for each and every workout -- physically and emotionally. I explained to them that it took me a while to get there, but that it's once you're in this incredible zone, it's a pretty powerful place where change and transformation can occur.

So, I guess I'm in the zone now. In a 'certified' kind of way.

And the zone felt really amazing this morning. Today, I had the opportunity to teach an indoor cycling class at a studio in the city -- I have taught one class in this location before, and knowing what I was in for, I invited Sebastien and his partner Sammie (owner of BootyCamp Fitness) to join me for the class. Always enthusiastic and supportive of the different things I've wanted to accomplish in this journey, Seb and Sammie were in from the start... and I have to admit, there was a part of me that was a bit nervous about having them do 'my class.' You have to remember... Sebastien has been my trainer for over two years. He has helped me get to where I am... and beyond. And to finally turn the tables a bit, where I was responsible for taking him through a training experience, was a bit daunting. Add Sammie into the equation (who's a bit of a fitness rockstar), and before I knew it, I was starting to feel queazy about what I had gotten myself into. Teaching an indoor cycling class to strangers was one thing -- teaching a class to two people who you admire for their ability and what they've accomplished in the world of health and fitness is something different altogether.

But, like all of my other challenges, I faced this one head on... trash talking and all.

For the past week, I've been taunting Seb that this was finally my moment of redemption. He has made me sweat, grunt, shout and sometimes cry... but he has taught me how to work... and how to work hard. Andy from Legacy has also taught me the same. He's the one who got me hooked on indoor cycling, and has coached me through my technique and helped me find a passion for this that both of us never imagined would have been there over a year ago. So, to honour both of these guys, I knew I had to bring it.

And I'm pretty sure I did.

I spent a good amount of time prepping my class. Knowing that this was Sammie's inaugural indoor cycling experience, I had to balance wanting to not work her too hard, with my desire to kick Seb's ass. Remember, the guy has put me through the paces for two years. And for the past week, I have taunted and teased him with the idea that today would be the day of redemption.

But it ended up being redemption in a different way altogether.

When the class was about to begin, Seb and Sammie were the only ones there -- which was a bit of a boon. It meant that I could stick to my game plan of offering a challenging class: a combination of interval springs and intense power climbs to two of the fittest people I know. I also had to remember that the role of an effective coach is not to 'kill' his students... but instead, my job is about presenting them with a challenging course, and helping them conquer it through instruction on good technique and coaching them to their limits and beyond. So, I left my quest for vengeance on Seb at the door, and embraced the opportunity to do what I had been taught to do -- coach these two people through a great class, with the goal of having them finish the intense cardio workout with a smile on their faces.

And I think I accomplished my goal.

The class unfolded in three sets... and after giving each student some basic instruction on how to ride, we were off. Admittedly, I was a bit over-zealous at the start, and had to scale back my own intensity on the bike; remembering, this wasn't my workout... it was theirs. Keeping that in mind, I settled into the role of coach -- encouraging, instructing, challenging. Of course, I had to take a few savoury moments to tell Sebastien to turn up the resistance on his bike a few extra times... I mean, who wouldn't relish the moment to make their trainer sweat!!! But by the end of it, I was thrilled that we slogged our way through three huge climbs, some intense intervals, and raced in to the finish of the course...all in an hour. 998 calories burned... with me as coach, riding by their side the whole way, ensuring that we got to the finish line as a team.

Even though Seb's grunting and the sweat dripping off Sammie's brow brought me tremendous satisfaction (because I knew each of them was working hard and pushing themselves), what brought me even greater satisfaction was the fact that I was up there... teaching a class to two people who have taught me a lot... and doing so with the confidence and stride of a professional.

I was comfortable.
I was myself.

I felt like... I belonged.

That's the redemption I wasn't expecting.
And it felt fantastic.

And so another chapter begins... while I still have weight to lose, and goals to accomplish, I am now thrilled to be playing with this new way of 'paying it forward'. In some ways, blogging has enabled me to do that to some degree -- to share my experiences with others, and hope that there's something to be learned from what I've already been through. But the experience of being in a room with motivated people who want to work hard....who aren't afraid to sweat...and who are willing to face a challenge head on and push themselves to the limit and beyond is a pretty spectacular moment.

Now I know why Andy gets such a high from it at Legacy. Now I know why he sometimes feels like he's king of the world.

'Cause I kind of felt the same way today. And hope to feel that way a whole lot more often.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Support me with my next goal... Riding 600km and Raising $2500!

2010-02-05T09:28:00.000-08:00

Dear Family, friends, and followers....

The past 2 years have been phenomenal for me. I’ve managed to realize what is perhaps my life’s greatest accomplishment (so far) with your help and support… I know now more than ever, that even though I’m the one who sweats off over 200 pounds, I couldn’t do it without your support and encouragement.

For those of you who’ve been following my story on my blog you will know that one of my goals for this year is to participate in the 2010 Friends for Life Bike Rally. My friend Jonathan convinced and encouraged me to participate, and I am writing to you today to once again invite your support.

From July 25-30, 2010, I will join hundreds of other people in a 600-km bike ride from Toronto to Montreal to raise money for a wide range of accessible, direct and practical services that support men, women and children living with HIV/AIDS. And I hope that you will consider helping me achieve my fundraising goal of $2500.00.

Since the mid- to late-80s, AIDS as a disease has completely changed the ways in which we connect and relate to one another in the world. It has brought to the fore a wide range of difficult issues that society has been forced to contemplate and reconsider, and in so doing, come to better understand the ways in which we see people living with disease. HIV/AIDS is not just a disease affecting gay men – it is a disease that affects people from all walks of life, and the ways society treats and supports people living with HIV/AIDS inevitably shapes the ways we deal with people who live with any sort of disease or illness. This is part of why I’ve chosen to take on this significant challenge.

The other reason why I’ve chosen the Friends for Life Ride as a goal this year is because over two years ago, I never imagined that I would ever be able to ride a bike – let alone ride a bike 600 km between my two favourite cities in Canada. Doing so with wonderful friends by my side will be amazing. Doing so knowing that what I’m doing isn’t just about me achieving another goal, but will allow me to make a significant financial and symbolic contribution to an important cause is phenomenal.

So how can you help? There are two ways that you can help me to make this happen…

First of all, I invite you to consider a monetary donation to this important cause. Secure online donations can be made with your credit card by clicking on the link below:

http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?SID=2457248

Once completed, an electronic tax receipt for any donation over $20 (CDN) will be sent to you by email within a few minutes.

Secondly, if you happen to be in the Greater Toronto Area, you may want to consider joining me and my two co-riders, Jonathan Steels and Andrew Siegwart on Saturday, April 17, 2010, as we host a 3-hour spin-a-thon for Friends for Life. Bikes can be reserved for the 3-hour event for a donation of $150, and individual riders or teams of three riders ($50 each!) will have the opportunity to experience my newest fitness obsession! I discovered indoor cycling in September 2009 at Legacy Indoor Cycling Studio and have found a tremendous sense of energy, spirit, and community in this exciting activity. The event on April 17 will be fantastic – the opportunity to ride with some of the city’s best instructors (including me as a newly certified instructor!), to the most amazing music, with the chance to win a wide range of prizes… all while supporting me, Jonathan and Andrew… cannot be missed. There are only 27 bikes available, so if you’re interested in participating, email us at legacyfriendsforlife@gmail.com.

I realize that as we all come out of difficult financial times, deciding where to direct your charitable dollars is an important choice. I assure you that not only is this a worthwhile cause, but it is also one that provides direct benefit (through services like foodbanks, health support, advocacy, and income support) for thousands and thousands of women, children and men living with HIV/AIDS. More than anything, I assure you that for every dollar donated, I will work harder, strive higher, and continue to achieve goals that I once thought were unachievable.

I hope you will help me achieve this goal for myself, and help make the aspirations of thousands of other people a reality. If you have any questions about the Toronto People with AIDS Foundation, please feel free to visit www.pwatoronto.org. If you have any other questions or concerns, please feel free to email me directly at phd2011@gmail.com.

Kia kaha (Stay strong)
Chris

Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear....

2010-01-26T17:54:00.000-08:00

So, it has been almost a month since I last posted. For some reason, I haven't had much to say. To be honest, I think I've been taking it a bit easy -- that is, I haven't been in my head too much about losing weight. I've been spending more time trying to make a big mind-shift. Knowing that I've got some big goals in the year ahead, I want to kick off this year in a good frame of mind.

Easier said than done.

The Christmas holiday break was a bit stressful. I loved seeing my family -- but I realized that 24 days was not only a long time for me to be away from home, but it was also a really long time to be away from my life. I managed to have some great workouts while I was in BC -- I found a rickety old spinning bike at the Rec Centre, and cranked out some of my own routines. I broke through my 5km limit on my runs, and ran a few 10km routes, which felt amazing. I spent an amazing afternoon with my Dad, niece and nephew, tubing down some runs at Mount Washington ski resort -- feeling a level of joy, elation, and speed that I haven't felt before. It was pretty spectacular, and liberating, all at the same time. But I missed my gym. I missed my spin bike. I missed my peeps. However, since I've been home for the past few weeks, I've been spending some time re-calibrating my workouts and figuring out my action plan for the year ahead. Sebastien and I have hammered out some solid goals, and 2010 is going to be a big year...

In the next 11 months, I will:

Weigh 200 pounds by July 25th -- the day when my friends Jonathan, Andrew and I set out for a 600km charity bike ride to Montreal
Bench press 250 pounds
Leg press 900 pounds
Deadlift 315 pounds
And.. do the splits.

All before my 37th birthday (September 18).

Furthermore, I will celebrate my birthday one week later on September 26th, by running the Toronto Waterfront Half Marathon, that's 13.1 miles or 21 kilometers... and hoping to do it in under 2 hours.

I'll also be going for my Schwinn indoor cycling instructor certification, my lifestyle fitness coaching certificate, and plan to make progress on my PhD. Yes, 2010 will be a BIG year. And I'm starting to feel a bit of pressure.

All self-imposed... of course!

And I think one of the reasons why I'm feeling a bit of pressure is because I know that I need to change my mindset. Losing 200 pounds before Christmas was huge. And even though I knew I wasn't 'done' with my weight loss, there is something in me that seems to have leveled a bit. I still want to lose about 35-40 pounds (taking me under the 200 mark for the first time since probably the 8th grade), but there's a bit of me that also feels pretty damn content with where I'm at right now. Could I live the rest of my life happily at 235 pounds? Hell yes. But for what I want to accomplish, for the person I want to become, there is still work left to do. And balancing that idea of 'contentment' with still wanting to make progress is a bit challenging.

In order to accomplish all of this, my motivation has to be monumental. Not only is it going to require a lot of dedicated training, but it's also going to require me to settle into a new way of seeing myself in the world. And I think that's what is leaving me a bit unsettled more than anything.

For months, Sebastien has been telling me that I'm an athlete. I train hard. I work hard. I am determined. I do things that I know my trainer can't do. And I do things that professional athletes do. I have boundless energy and unlimited determination. Once I'm in 'the zone', I have the unshakeable focus of a pro. That I know. But I still haven't accepted the fact that I'm 'an athlete'.

Until this past weekend.

About 10 months ago, I cleaned out my closet. I packed up all of my 'fat' clothes, and put them in my spare bedroom. The pile grew each and every day as I got dressed each morning...not removing an article of clothing because it was too small, but instead, because it was too damn big. At one point, all I had left in my closet was a couple of golf shirts. And shopping for new clothes has been both joyous and traumatic, but even the jeans that I wrote about here are now too big. In fact, over Christmas, I tried on my letterman sweater from high school. It hasn't fit me since the 10th grade. It fits me now. So even though I did this monumental purge of clothing, I didn't throw them away. I was convinced that I was going to sell them on-line or donate them. I had some shirts that were worth about $150... and even a few pieces that still had tags on them. What I realized this past weekend, was that I was hanging on to all of these clothes because deep down inside of me, I am afraid that I might need them again.

But I don't want to need them again. Ever.

That said, many of my friends have offered to come over and help me get rid of the clothes. Some have even threatened to come into my house while I was away for Christmas and clear them out for me. I made them promise not to do so, because I knew that off-loading that much clothing was something I needed to do myself. Just as I was the only one who could lose over 200 pounds, I was the one who had to do the work of getting rid of these clothes. And after doing so this weekend, I now understand why that was the case.

My friend Patsy was visiting, and we were going through some of the clothes that she thought she could give to someone she knew. I was more than happy to give away a few items, and before I knew it, she had talked me into getting rid of all of it. She challenged me on my excuses (I have no garbage bags to carry them in... the donation centre might be closed... I'm not ready yet....) and I finally gave in. We quickly loaded all of the clothes into bags, and before I knew it, the pile was gone. The pile was once close to 6-feet high. And it was loaded up in garbage bags.

Unreal.

Before we cleared everything out, Patsy held up a pair of my old jeans, and looked at me in amazement. She started to giggle, because it was amazing to see the change in who I am as a person. When she held up the jeans, I was shocked. I wanted to cry. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to stop packing everything up. And I realize why. For so many years, I had fooled myself into thinking that I didn't have a problem. I had such a dysmorphic view of who I was physically -- I used to see other morbidly obese men on the street, and quietly say to myself "Please God, tell me I'm not that big."

But I was.

And when Patsy held up the pair of jeans, I realized....I was huge. And that hurt. It made me sad for a moment. I never really acknowledged just how bad things really were.

And those pants weren't even the biggest pair in the pile.

So for fun, she had me try them on... and we quickly realized that the 235 pound Chris can now fit into one leg of the 435-pound Chris. The proof is in the picture. I can now fit into ONE LEG of my old jeans. And it took 2 hands to keep the pants up.

Insane.

So we laughed, packed up the rest of the clothes, and drove them to the donation centre. It was closed, so we left them outside, and off we went.

And the clothes were finally gone.

I could erase them from my mind, and getting rid of them could create space for new things. New clothes. New identity. New me. But it didn't end up being that easy. As we were dragging the bags to the car, we remarked how heavy they were. And tried to estimate how much they weighed. I guessed over 200 pounds... but the Type A person in me had to know for sure. I realized at that moment that I hadn' t had my final good-bye to those clothes. I wasn't done yet.

So, after Patsy dropped me off at my house, I went inside and found my bathroom scales. I hopped into my car, and drove to the donation centre, where the garbage bags filled with the artifacts of the 'old' me were still there. I quickly placed each bag on the scale, and after the quick math, I laughed out loud, and then began to cry a little...

I just off-loaded 218 pounds of clothing.

One month ago, I had lost 202 pounds of body weight.
This month, I lost 218 pounds of clothing.
That's 420 pounds of loss.

And I'm only now starting to feel like I've lost the 'old' me. All 420 pounds of him. I realized that even though I was losing body weight, I was still hanging on to pounds and pounds of objects that represented the security, fear, anxiety, and sadness of the person I used to be. And to think that it was possible to find even the slightest degree of comfort in who that person once was, has put me a bit off my game. Until I started to connect the dots a few days ago.

Late last week, as Andy at Legacy and I were talking about the upcoming instructor training, he said to me, "I wish I could have talked to you a year ago." I didn't understand why he said that. But I quickly realized that it would have been amazing for him to have tried, last January, to convince me that I was about to do the things I plan to do in the year ahead. A year ago, I would have never imagined that I would be planning on being a spinning instructor. A year ago, I would have never imagined that I would have lost 200 pounds. A year ago, I would have never imagined that feeling this much happiness was possible.

And all of it was possible.
It is possible.
It is.

Fast forward to Monday morning, when Andy gave me the stage for a short while, and allowed me to teach the spinning segment of his Monday morning boot camp. I had done lots of preparation, and gave Andy a dry run of the music for my set two days prior. Admittedly, I was nervous... because in order to do my 'thing' on Monday morning, I needed to see myself differently. I had to let go of my identity as a 'participant' and take on the role of being a 'coach'. This wasn't my workout. This was a workout for the people who were there to work hard. And as I saw the participants crank up the dials on their bikes at 6:45am, sweat dripping from their brows, it felt incredible. It felt amazing. It felt... a bit like home.

And I don't mean 'home' in the sense that I could live there. But I felt 'home' like the same sense of comfort and security that my excess weight, sadness, and anxiety used to provide. In other words, I was settling into the 'new me'. Not only did I feel that comfort and security, but I also felt challenged, excited, invigorated... and proud. Not only proud of what I was doing in that moment in time, but also so proud of the participants who showed up to do the hard work it takes to make a change in their lives.

And I had fun.

A year ago, I wouldn't have imagined that I would be saying that. But I did. I had a riot. Having the opportunity to engage with other people in that way felt pretty spectacular. And it has helped me to see myself differently.

Now I guess many people might not understand why I struggle to see myself differently. Admittedly, I look in the mirror, and in spite of having lost 200+ pounds, I still see myself as 'me'. I don't always see the change. People always ask me how different it feels... and what it's like to see myself in such a different way. But I have a difficult time actually responding sometimes.

Because for so many years, one of the ways that I coped with my morbid obesity was by completely dissociating myself from my body. My mind and my soul were so disconnected from my body, that I didn't even know what I felt like. It's easy not to 'feel' your body when there is close to 8 feet of body fat between your body and your soul.

Insane.

There's no other way to say it. I was so out of touch with who I was as a person -- physically, emotionally, cognitively. And only now do I see myself differently. And seeing myself that way -- visually, and in my mind -- feels pretty damn spectacular.

I see the 'skinny bitch' (as Jonathan and Andrew call me) who fits into one leg of his old pair of jeans.
I see the guy who works out harder than his own trainer.
I see the guy who, in spite of still having 35 pounds to lose, can do things that most people are physically incapable of.
I see an athlete who can.. and WILL...accomplish everything that awaits him in the year ahead.

Quite simply, I see...
Me.

I was there all along. Even though I used to think the idea of the person I wanted to become was so far away, it wasn't. It was real. It was possible. It was achievable. And now, I can't stop looking in the mirror. LOL!

Apparently, the object in the mirror WAS closer than it appeared.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Impossiblity... is impossible.

2009-12-31T20:35:00.000-08:00

It’s that time of year again when many people reflect upon the previous year, wondering what could have been, and contemplate the year ahead, dreaming of what could possibly be. While I’ve never been a huge fan of resolutions (mainly because I’m no good at keeping them), two years ago, I promised myself I would try to make a change that would last a lifetime.

Two years ago, I was a 435-pound man.
And for the last time, I resolved to get healthy.

And while I had tried almost every diet, gimmick and trick out there, I was not thoroughly convinced that surgically wrapping an elastic band around my stomach was going to be the solution to my problems. Why? Well, it wasn’t modern medicine’s fault that I was a morbidly obese. Over the twenty previous years prior, I made a series of bad choices in terms of my eating habits and my inability to manage my emotions. So while I didn’t resolve to go on a diet, or read yet another self-help book in search of the secret to happiness and weight-loss success, I did resolve to do one thing very differently. I made a resolution to hold myself accountable to my own choices.

Finally.

I chose to live my life differently. Quite simply, I chose to live.

Because 20 months ago, I used to pray at night that I wouldn’t die in my sleep – feeling the weight of 200+ extra pounds, depression, sadness, disappointment, and anxiety pressing down on both my body and my spirit. And I made a deal with myself on April 19, 2008 – that if I woke up the next morning, I would not only choose to make a change, but I would actually do it.

And I haven’t looked back since.

I hired an amazing trainer, and surrounded myself with people who motivated me.

I actually applied everything I had learned from 20+ years of dieting, to fuel my body in healthy and wonderful way.

I learned to enjoy sweating…running, indoor cycling, and kickboxing. I’ll try anything now, and in the process, likely grow to love it.

And most importantly…

I’ve dropped over 200 pounds of body weight -- the old fashioned way

I’ve lost 7.7 feet (yes, feet!) of fat from my body’s girth measurements.

I’ve learned to take control of my life, and forgive myself for the consequences of negative choices.

I learned that the problem with all of my previous resolutions was that they weren’t about making a change in how I think, or how I see myself in the wonderful world around me. They were focused on changing something that existed externally to who I am as a person, in hopes that changing that one condition alone would create an imbalance in my already chaotic life that could prompt much-needed change. I was so intent on blaming so many things around me for why I was so overweight that I had completely lost touch with the fact that I was a grown adult with the capacity to make choices. And more significantly, I was a grown adult with the responsibility to hold himself accountable for his choices. So, it didn't matter how many times I told myself that I was going to change my behaviours -- I still hadn't committed to changing the person that I am.

And that's been the most challenging and compelling part of this journey.

So many people -- fitness experts, health gurus, diet programs -- say that success is about making changes in your eating and exercise behaviours. Now, while I don't totally disagree, what the fitness industry doesn't spend a lot of time telling you is that success hinges most significantly on your ability to critically examine who you are as a person, and decide how you want or need that person to change. Unless you make a conscious choice to examine, understand, and transform the person within, you will never realize success in transforming the person on the outside.

And doing so is a process. A long, long process.

It's a daunting and somewhat frightening prospect when you think about it. But unless you attempt to understand why you make negative choices, which lead to negative behaviours (over-eating, not exercising, over-drinking, etc.) you will never even scratch the surface in truly comprehending where things went wrong in the first place.

Now, I admit that I didn't dive into critical self-examination off the start. The beginning of my journey was indeed about making incremental changes in my behaviours. It was also about learning to make good choices, and about understanding that I don't have to beat myself up over making bad ones. Eventually, I began to question why I was making negative choices in the first place... which led to a desire to more fully understand who I was as a person on the inside. And once I began to understand what makes me tick, what makes me trigger, and what makes me want to ravage a plate of nachos or a large pizza without coming up for air, it got easier and easier to make good choices. It was easier to convince myself to engage in positive, constructive behaviour. And it was extremely liberating to forgive myself for everything I didn't do in the 20 year prior -- the 20 years of resolutions gone bad -- and free myself from the limitations of my own thinking.

It helped me to accept that the idea of impossibility was... well... impossible.

So reflecting back on this amazing year, I consider the fact that I have conquered so many things that I once thought impossible. And I know laugh in the face of any challenge ahead that would have one forced me to retreat into the safety of my own self-doubt and trepidation. As I sit here, 3 hours from the turn of the new year, I realzie that the resolution that mattered the most – the best one I ever made – was about not feeling victimized by my bad choices, but instead understanding that the most powerful thing I have as a person is the power to choose. I can choose to live my life in whatever way I wish. And once I made the choice to eat more healthfully (I still eat burgers!), exercise daily, and forgive myself and others for everything I had been hanging onto for so very very long, I drew more strength and motivation from that choice than I had ever found before.

So, in 2010... I can choose to do many many things.

I've chosen to do a 600km bike ride for charity with some fantastic new friends.

I've chosen to become a certified indoor cycling instructor.

I've chosen to run a half-marathon to celebrate my 37th birthday.

I've chosen to become a certified fitness lifestyle coach.

I've chosen to live life. To it's fullest. With all of its highs and lows. With all of its love and laughter.

That's my choice.

And I'm going to stick by it.

Because I realize now more than ever... that the only way I'm going to make the changes I want is if I choose to do it. No one else is going to make it happen. Except for me. Lots of people to support me... but I have to do the work. ALL of it. And that includes forgiving those who I felt I've needed to forgive... it includes drawing myself closer to people I want to be closer to... and also requires that I let go of everything that has ever held me back before... to create space for new and exciting things.

(Thanks for that one, DP)

May 2010 bring you the same power and inspiration – from your own power to choose.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

The only way to never go back...

2009-12-02T20:58:00.000-08:00

I've done it once again. Six months ago, I set a goal to lose another 50 pounds in 6 months -- an ambitious goal, yes. But not an impossible one. Why 50 pounds? Because dropping 50 pounds in 6 months would bring me to a very special place -- to a monumental moment in my journey when I would have achieved something that twenty months ago was completely inconceivable -- to lose 200 pounds.

And tonight, I did it.
In fact, I lost 201.6 pounds.
And I've still got three more weeks to go before the 6-month mark.

When I first started training with Sebastien, he told me that this was going to be a 5-year journey -- and the thought of taking five years to lose the weight that I've wanted to get rid of for so long was completely daunting and almost impossible. But as of tonight, I weigh less than I did in high school. I wear a large t-shirt (not a 4XL like I did 20 months ago). And I can do absolutely anything I put my mind to. Again -- it was truly inconceivable. But I made it happen.

I made it happen.

That's what Sebastien reminded me of tonight as we sat in the office at the gym, after a killer workout and realizing that I had once again achieved my goals and conquered my fears. I did it. I did the work. I made the sacrifices. I am responsible for every drop of sweat, every tear, every grunt and every moment when my determination surpassed my doubt and made all of this possible.

I made this happen.
And that's what feels so unbelievably incredible.

You see, when I built up enough courage to seek out the help I so desperately needed, I thought I was beyond help. I was at my rock bottom. I used to pray at night that I would live through the night. And I promised myself one night that if God let me live, that I would take the necessary steps to take control of my own life. But I was fully expecting to find someone who would figure it all out for me. And at the end of the day, one of the biggest challenges was having to figure it all out for myself.

Losing weight is a powerful experience. Facing your fears is scary. Accepting your own truth and your own responsibility for what you do in your life is perhaps the most intimidating thing of all. And a few days ago at the spinning studio, a fellow member asked me what the toughest part of all this has been -- was it the food? The exercise? My response, plain and simply was -- getting up every day believing that I can do this and knowing that I'm the only one who's going to make it happen.

And I did. I made this happen.

As I've learned over the past 20 months, and as I've often written here, so many of us are looking for answers and solutions. We're looking for secrets to success. We're looking for inspiration. We're looking for truth. And once you take the courageous step to cut through all the noise, all the crap and all the fitness propaganda, you quickly realize that everything you're looking for is pretty beautifully packaged in one very special place -- within yourself. Accepting that your soul is the place where your own possibility lies can be very difficult to do, especially when you've got baggage, emotions, and body weight to get through. But over time, at each step along the journey, you can't help but expose yourself to, well, yourself -- and quickly learn that everything you've been looking for has been within you all along.

Sometimes all you need is someone or something to help you figure that out.
And I am fortunate and blessed to have had that chance.

As regular readers of this blog will know, Sebastien my trainer has, and always will have, a very special place in my life. He helped me unlock and open the door to my own potential -- a door I had barricaded with my fears, sadness, anxiety, ego and lack of self-esteem. He helped me find the key, unlock it, and march on through. And it was a slow march at first. Tonight he reminded me that when we started working together, that I could barely last 45 seconds on an elliptical machine before I thought I was going to collapse. Tonight, I nearly broke the damn thing because I was working so hard on it! Twenty months ago, I could barely walk a few kilometres on a treadmill without gasping for air, and dripping in sweat. Tonight, I cranked out a 15-minute run (not a jog... a run) as a warm-up to yet another intense and gratifying workout. My trainer.... my friend... has helped me to realize the limitless possibilities of my own potential, and has uncovered a machine... someone who now wakes each and every day wondering what sort of activity he's going to do. And sometimes it's hard to decide... so I do more than one. But that person didn't exist twenty months ago. Twenty months ago, my own depression wouldn't have even let me get out of bed.

And it's a pretty amazing feeling to look back on that now and realize that...
I made this happen.

Another tremendous source of encouragement has been Andy and the folks at Legacy Indoor Cycling -- my new addiction. The energy I draw from my fellow riders is phenomenal. The level of investment that Andy has shown in my progress over the past few months has been remarkable -- and I believe has helped me push through these final last few pounds and realize a goal that I thought would never ever happen. And if nothing else, the promise of our favourite meal at our favourite greasy hamburger joint was always fantastic motivation... ;) Square Boy Hamburgers, here we come!!!

So now that I've achieved this goal, what's next? People have asked me "When will you be done?" My answer: "Never." This is me for life. Sure, I think from here on in, my focus will be less on weight loss, and more on further developing muscle and training for new and exciting things. My life from here on in will be less about dreaming of being 200 pounds lighter -- but more about imagining the possibilities (and realizing them) of what a 235 pound man can do. A 600km bike ride? Sure! A half-marathon? Definitely. A triathlon... don't underestimate this guy... I'm already figuring out when I'm going to re-learn how to swim!!!

All that said, one of the things I'm going to have to figure out in the months ahead is how to keep all of this momentum going. Yes, I have made many sacrifices, and am surrounded by people in my personal and professional life who afford me tremendous support and flexibility. But at some point, things have to re-balance. And with that need to re-calibrate my priorities and what I spend my time on, comes the occasional glance of doubt, where someone around me, or even myself, will ask... "How long is it going to take for him to put it all back on???"

Right now, I don't think that's ever going to happen. I won't let it happen. I can't let it happen. But I'm human. I'm going to screw up. I'm going to make mistakes. And in the difficult task of re-balancing my life, things may not happen as easily as I wish. However, through it all, I have to remind myself of the fact that the only way to ensure that I never go back, is to keep looking forward. Even at times when what I want seems so very very far away and out of reach, at least I know it's there. Not behind me... in front of me. And with every step, every stride and every pedal stroke, I will always move closer and closer towards a re-imagined and renewed reality for who I am in this world.

And above all else...
I will make it happen.
I've done it already.
I will do it again. And again. And again.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

PS. New before and after pics coming soon!!!!

The secret to inspiration

2009-11-16T17:40:00.000-08:00

I say this a lot, but it's a tough journey. And over the past few weeks I've come to realize once again what an incredible journey it has been. I've been taking some time to reflect on the past 20 months and continue to reaffirm the fact that even though weight loss takes a lot of physical work -- the working out, the sweat, the exertion -- that it's the emotional work that can be the toughest to conquer.

As I near the fulfillment of my next goal (losing 200 pounds before Christmas), I get more and more people asking me what I've done to make this all work for myself. I've met so many incredible, supportive and wonderful people along the way -- people who inspire me in so many ways. And I've come to learn that I've inspired them.

Hmmm. Now there's something to wrap my head around. Maybe that's how I've done it...

I can understand how what I've accomplished would inspire someone. It's not every day that someone sets out to lose weight, and drops nearly 200 pounds in just under two years... without gimmicks. So, that part I understand. But what has been challenging to wrap my head around is understanding that who I am as a person -- not necessarily what I've accomplished -- is what's inspiring. And when I make a sour face or look puzzled when people give me that compliment, I have begun to wonder why I'm having this unusual reaction.

I have realized over the past few weeks that it takes a really strong mind to make the shift from being the one who seeks to be inspired, to being the one who inspires. I can't count the number of times I would sit at home after watching an episode of The Biggest Loser or some other show, and feel inspired. I however, would end up feeling crappy about myself, because in spite of the inspiration, I would be mad/upset/jealous that I didn't have someone filming my journey for a television show and somehow letting me in on 'the secret'.

At the end of the day, the secret is about balancing desire, hard work, and dedication. As I said before, it's about "knowing that I not only gave myself the chance to succeed, but that I actually believed that I could do so." In many ways, it's about realizing that no matter how many episodes of The Biggest Loser or whatever show we watch, at some point, we have to decide to be our own inspiration.

For people like me who have struggled with weight and other issues, accepting the fact that you're a strong, beautiful, competent, and perfectly imperfect human can be tough to do. Years and years of beating yourself up for being out of shape, fat, and unattractive take their toll, and make it really tough to accept the possibility that you will ever become a different person altogether. And no matter how much we surround ourselves with support -- trainers, fitness instructors, therapists, coaches, family, friends, the list goes on -- at some point, we need to channel the energy we draw from those around us, and direct it towards fueling and finding our own inspiration. Undoubtedly, the support we draw from the people around is irreplaceable -- research (apparently) shows that engaging in a weight loss / fitness journey in the context of supportive relationships is more likely to yield a positive result. Yet, in spite of the tremendous amount of support that has surrounded me for example, one of the most difficult things to do has been to accept that support and turn it into something I can work with.

For some strange, twisted reason, accepting the fact that people give a shit about you can be really tough...especially when it feels like other people care more about you than you care about yourself.

And I guess that's part of the secret, too. As I go further along my journey, I realize that such a big part of the secret is not only making a conscious choice to embrace the possibility that you, as an individual, have the capacity and capability to not only make change in your life, but most importantly, to care enough to do so.

It's about making the choice to live life differently.
It's about truly living in possibility as opposed to living in fear of it.
It's about finding a way -- in whatever way possible, to discover, accept, and be proud of the fact that you are your own and strongest inspiration.

That's a pretty powerful thing. Couple the strength of that decision -- that unshakable, unquestionable determination -- with the resources and opportunity to eat well, exercise, and truly live our lives, and the secret is no longer that much of a mystery: No gimmicks. No quick fixes. Just a lot of work -- work of the body, the mind, and the soul, to make a decision that you will never regret.

That's the secret. That's the key. That, apparently, is inspiration.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Fat? or Fit?

2009-11-01T12:23:00.000-08:00

I can't believe that it's already November. The past few months have literally flown by -- and it's hard to believe that in just about a month and a half, I'm going to be heading out west for Christmas break at my parents' house in British Columbia. I'm looking forward to the getaway, but I'm also looking forward to seeing my sister from New Zealand, who I haven't seen in three years. She and I are quite close, and traveling this journey towards better health is something that I always thought I'd do with her by my side. Needless to say, the first moment that I see her is likely going to be an emotional one -- but it's going to be amazing.

I also had a reveal moment last week. My parents came to visit me here in Toronto for a week. I saw my dad in July at a family wedding in Pennsylvania, but I hadn't seen my mother since last Christmas. And even though I was already well on my way at this time last year, I was 110 pounds heavier. So I don't know what I was expecting, when I picked them up at the airport, but I was more than thrilled to know that she didn't recognize me and at one point wondered why my dad (who I saw first, coming out of the arrivals area) was hugging a strange man. Knowing that I look like a completely different person is something that I'm learning to get more comfortable with, but I have to admit that I still have moments where I wonder if I've really changed.

This morning, for example, I arrived at the spinning studio a bit early. It was a gorgeous fall day -- the perfect day for a run. So, I had decided to go for a light run before my spinning class. I arrived at Legacy, and one of the women who was there for this morning's boot camp class said that she didn't recognize me at first. I commented that it was my legs (because I was sporting a new pair of running tights, thanks to Dr. Steels!), and another one of the members said that it wasn't my legs. She could see a noticeable difference in my mid-section. Spinning has been a fantastic workout over the past two months. If you've read my two previous blog entries, you'll know what I high I get from them. In fact, I've dropped about 25 pounds since I started spinning, so I'm pretty thrilled with the results. And I do indeed notice a difference in the strength of my core, my flexibility, and also that my shirts, jackets and coats have a more generous fit through my mid-section. But at the end of the day, I still have moments where I take a look at my gut, and wonder if anything has really changed.

I carried a large percentage of my weight around my mid-section. As such, I've got a flabby belly, and the skin around my stomach is the least 'resilient'. Skin around other parts of my body has been quite elastic -- responding well to the work I've been doing, and nicely embracing the new and toned shape of my body and muscles. But my mid-section? Not to much. I was soaking in the tub the other night after an intense leg workout, and noticed just how much 'belly' still remains. And even though Sebastien tells me that the belly fat is the toughest and last to lose, there's still a part of me that wonders if it will ever really go away. Will I ever really get rid of it???

After spinning this morning, my friend Patsy and I took some time for one of my favourite weekend rituals: a coffee at Red Rocket Coffee in Toronto. As we were sitting outside enjoying our post-workout drinks, we were talking about all of the various things we've been doing to get fit. I always love a good long talk with Patsy, because she gets it. She understands where my head is at, and is always enthusiastic about trying new things. Over the course of our chat this morning, she stopped me at one point and said "We need to work on something. You have to stop calling yourself 'fat'."

I still think of myself as a fat man. I've dropped over 180 pounds and I still consider myself fat. I eat better than most nutrition books (except for the Skor brownie last night), and still refer to myself as fat. I ran 5km this morning and cranked out an intense spinning workout, and I still call myself fat. Combine all of these things with the fact that I still get disappointed because my gut is big and flabby, and I begin to wonder: "Will I always be 'fat'?"

There is a big part of me that thinks I will always be a fat man -- if not physically, then cognitively. And I'm not so sure I ever want to let go of that. I've been told (by others and myself) for a large part of my life that I'm not worthy of many things because I'm fat. I've been ridiculed, harassed, and objectified because I'm fat. And it's only in the past year or so that I've actually grown more comfortable calling myself 'fat'. I think there's a bit of reclamation happening here -- that I'm reclaiming the word 'fat' and using it myself to take the negative power away from it. And growing more comfortable saying the word, and describing myself in this way, I think has helped me to reach out to more people and advocate for fat people who want to actively make change in their lives. So I don't ever want to forget who I've been for the past 36 years -- and changing one word in how I describe myself is going to be much harder than I ever thought it would be.

There's a lot of power in language. There's profound meaning in the words we use to describe ourselves, and in how those descriptions link ourselves with people around us. And I still cringe sometimes when Sebastien calls me an 'athlete' or 'fit'. But it's going to take time for me to embrace these new ways of knowing and understanding myself -- especially at a time when I don't feel like the word necessarily matches who I am. How can I be 'fit' when I've got a big lump of flab around my mid-section? How can I be an 'athlete' when I weigh over 250 pounds? There is still a big part of me that's struggling to embrace the new person that I've become -- in part because I've programmed myself into thinking about who I am in only one way for so long. All I know is that it's going to take a while to re-program myself and my thinking to match the person I know I am well on my way to becoming.

So even though I run 5k, do spinning classes, and have such strong focus on my health and fitness, this is still a tough journey. It ain't easy. I still have moments where I have to stop myself in my thought patterns, and reprogram what I'm saying to myself so that I don't fall into old habits. I still have days when I'd love to stay in my pyjamas, and not go to the gym at all. And I still have moments when I'd love to devour unhealthy food in hopes that it might make me feel better than I'm feeling at that moment in time.

And that's the key.

Each time that I think about not working out, not eating well, or spiralling into some screwed up way of viewing myself and the world around me, I have to recall my past experience and know that if I don't workout; if I eat that pizza; or sit around calling myself 'fat' that I'm not going to feel any better at the end of the day. However, if I do workout; if I do eat a really healthy meal; or if I do take a moment to try on a new suit and admire the athletic figure before me, inevitably, I feel better. And that makes a whole lot more sense.

But I'm still working on it. And that's what matters most.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Finding my hero...

2009-10-19T20:08:00.001-07:00

As many of you know, I have recently taken up indoor cycling as an amazing way to crank up my cardiovascular training. Things were getting a bit boring on the elliptical machine at the gym, so I went to a spinning class, and got hooked instantly. I wrote about it in a recent blogpost, and since then have grown more and more excited by the prospects of getting stronger and better at this new activity. I suppose that one of the reasons why I get such a great kick out of it is because I feel like I'm part of a community of sorts. I know that many people participate in exercise classes, go through the motions, and don't necessarily feel any sort of connection to the people around them. But there are many people who do... so let me tell you about why the people who sweat by my side are such an important part of my journey.

In my previous post about spinning, I talked about what it's like to do a ride with a group of other spinners. The energy is palpable, and sometimes the shared sense of dread can be kind of intense. But at the end of the hour, you take a look around and see the satisfaction and pride on everyone's faces that you had accomplished something -- that somehow today, you worked harder than you did the day before, and you're a better person for having done so. That's such a huge part of what drives me to go to a class 4 or 5 days a week now -- yes the workout is fantastic, but the sense of community is close to spectacular.

Over the past year or so, I had also taken up a kickboxing class -- a weekly meeting of some people at my gym who hammered out some amazing kicking and punching sequences on a couple of WaveMaster bags. The class was fantastic, but over the past few weeks, I haven't been totally feeling it. I've gone, I've punched, I've kicked, I've sweated. I've done everything the instructor told me to do (and then some), but I wasn't feeling that great at the end of it all. And it is only in reflecting upon my spinning classes that I have begun to understand why.

Sebastien and I were talking about this very topic this past week, and we both realized that to a great extent, this journey has been a pretty solitary one for me over the past 18 months. Yes, I have tremendous supporters and people behind me every step of the way, but most times I am alone for a few hours at the gym cranking out my weightlifting or hammering through a run on the treadmill. It was only in the past few months that I started working out with other people -- my weekly runs with Alison and Lisa were not only a wonderful way to train for our 5km road race, but also a wonderful opportunity to shift the paradigms of some of my relationships. My friendships over the past year are no longer centred around social connections that focus on dining out or going for drinks. In many ways, my social connections happen more in the context of physical health and fitness, and that's a very empowering way for me to no longer feel so alone in this battle.

Where does spinning fit into all of this? Well, I have learned that I am at a point where the physical challenge of indoor cycling is defined by two things and two things alone: the extent to which I can crank up the physical resistance on the bike, and my mental/emotional willingness to actually do so. And there have been days (like today) when all I want to do is go to a class, take it easy, and blend into the background. But when you get a group of people around you who are cranking their dials, hopping out of their saddles, and grunting and cheering -- you can't help but get motivated by that. And at Legacy Indoor Cycling, having Andy pounding out the routine on his own bike to the music pumping from the speakers, you cannot resist the urge to crank up the dial and try to win the race -- the race between you and your body.

But last Friday, I was reminded how this is more than just a race between me and my body. As much as Andy challenges us to 'break the bike' and hammer it out as hard as we can, indoor cycling is about more than just pushing the actual limits of my physical capabilities, it's about continuing to push the limits of what I actually think I can do.

And winning the race against my own mind is often the toughest one to win.

You see, part of why I started indoor cycling is because my friend Jonathan has challenged me to join him on the 2010 Friends for Life Bike Rally -- a 600km bike ride over 5 days from Toronto to Montreal. I told him I'd do it, but shortly thereafter began to freak out about how I was going to train for it. Enter indoor cycling -- and Jonathan has now started joining me at spinning classes, along with another rider friend of his, Andrew. Jonathan also promised (tonight in fact... so note the date) that he would join me for the half-marathon next October if I rode with him next July. Perfect. And to be honest, observing the training that John did last summer, along with how he used the experience of the ride (which raised close to $1-million for programs/service for people living with HIV/AIDS) to connect himself to one of the most significant health issues facing not only the gay community, but people everywhere... well, watching all that happen was pretty inspirational. And my spinning class last Friday night helped me remember that fact.

Last Friday was a bit of a special day. Normally I would do two of Andy's classes back to back (incredible workout of well over 1500 calories!). But last Friday, James Gekko (a Schwinn Master Trainer, and a bit of a spinning guru) was teaching the second class. So I went to Andy's class at 5:30, which he claimed was the 'fluffer' class -- a warm up for what James had in store for us at 6:30. And he promised us that what we would experience in James' class would be pretty spectacular.

And it was.
But not for the reasons that I thought it would be.

Physically, it was challenging. But again, the extent to which I challenge myself in a spinning class is determined by my dial, and my desire to crank it up. The instructor is the coach -- encouraging you on, and helping you visualize what it's like to take it to the next level. But the 'work' happens on the bike.

On Friday evening, a lot of 'work' happened in my head.

James started the class with a great warm-up (I was already warm from Andy's class, which in keeping with his reputation, was not at all easy) and then took us through three different rides. Rides consist of a series of terrains (hills, steep climbs, flat road, mud, rapid declines) that are simulated by how you position your body and how manipulate the resistance on your bike. Now, I don't recall the physicality of the terrains -- because again, it wasn't the physical experience that resonated with me most. It was what I visualized along the way that was indeed the most powerful.

On the first ride, James (whose soothing coaching style instills great confidence in you as a rider) asked us to close our eyes and imagine riding with our best friend -- riding with someone who you enjoy being with, and whose presence was going to bring you joy. My mind raced through a number of different people who I consider among my closest friends -- some of whom I've never been on a bike with, and others who were in fact by my side that night. But it wasn't them I was thinking about. I began to think about one person in particular. And then I started to feel a bit overwhelmed. So I focused more on the ride and less on the person and hoped that we would quickly move on to the next stage.

Shortly thereafter, James asked us to think about riding against our greatest rival -- the person who was most competitive, who would rub it in our faces if they ever won a race against us, or who would never let us live down the fact that they had pulled ahead on a steep climb. Again, I thought of many people in my life who I have considered rivals -- some of whom I would even consider enemies. And I tried to visualize them riding by my side, each with his/her own sinister look on their face, as they pulled ahead of me, and I powered through the ride to catch up. I overtook every person I pictured in my mind's eye. Victory! But then another rider -- another rival who I never expected to be in the race pulled up behind me, met me shoulder to shoulder, and then powered on ahead of me. This rider's skill, speed and endurance drove me to push harder, pedal faster, and find the desire somewhere to beat him. Eventually, I pulled ahead -- however, feeling even more overwhelmed to the point where I thought I actually had a few tears in my eyes. So I pulled my cap down over my face, and thankfully, James moved on to the next stage in our ride.

In the third stage, he dimmed the lights and described riding at sunset -- at a time when dusk was upon us, and we had to try to make it home before nightfall. It wasn't going to be easy, but riding beside us he asked us to visualize a person who has inspired us -- who has been supportive, encouraging, and who has always been there. Again, I thought of many people -- my friends, my family, my trainer, my spinning instructors, my fellow spinners. I was at no deficit here. I have been surrounded by so many fantastically supportive people over the past 18 months, yet none of them seemed to 'fit' for this last leg of the ride. And then I pictured someone in particular -- riding closely by my side as night fell and as the air got cooler. And having him by my side gave me tremendous confidence... great happiness... tremendous peace. And I'm glad my hat was pulled over my face because at that moment, amid the grunting and sweating of the ride, I really did begin to cry. Not tears of sadness. They were tears of joy. No, I wasn't sobbing... but I had a moment of incredible emotional release when I came to experience great peace about this ride -- about this moment -- about the past 18 months.

Why? Who were these people? Why did they provoke such an emotional response in me?

In all three cases, the other rider was me.

The past 18 months have helped me to grow more close in my relationship with myself -- to better understand who I am, what's important to me, and why I matter. In the past 18 months, I've learned to be my own best friend... and it has helped me be a better friend to those around me.

The past 18 months have helped me to overcome my own self-rivalry -- to appreciate that I need to focus on challenging myself in positive ways, and discourage myself less. I have learned not to rub my face in my own failure, but instead learned to create opportunities for me to experience success.

And finally, the past 18 months have helped me to draw a tremendous amount of inspiration from deep within me. I am surrounded by so much encouragement, support and love that at times, it is indeed overwhelming to imagine. And the energy and inspiration I draw from my fellow spinners each day goes unmatched by any other group fitness experience I've ever had -- and for their energy I am tremendously grateful. But at the end of the day, I have learned to rely more upon myself. To find motivation from my failures, and inspiration from my possibilities. To take the time each day to think about what I am doing and how I can do better -- in every part of my life. I've learned to be my own hero.

And I've never felt more at peace.

At the end of the ride with James, we did our stretching and cool-down, and I quietly went to the locker-room to change. Once back in my civvies, I made my way out of the studio -- and I normally take a few moments after each class to chat with Andy and thank him for a good class. But on Friday night, I threw on my coat, tossed on my hat, gave a quick wave to those who remained in the studio and made my way home. I wasn't yet in a place to begin to truly articulate how important that class was to me. I knew it had been a powerful experience, but I couldn't really describe why. So, I didn't get a chance to thank Andy or James right away. But I hope that what I've described in this blogpost conveys how grateful I am.

Andy and James

At each class, Andy tells us that this is a race between us and our bodies. After Friday night, and at every class since, I am mindful of the fact that it has the potential to be a bigger race than that. Just like my 5km run, this experience of personal transformation is a race against my physical, emotional and cognitive self. And it's a race I know I win each and every day. Because after every workout -- weight training, kickboxing with Sebastien, running on the boardwalk, walking the dog, or spinning at Legacy...

I know I've won because I smile the whole way home.
Doesn't get much better than that.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

It is what it is.

2009-10-09T19:19:00.000-07:00

I've taken a bit of a break from running in the past two weeks. I did my 5km run and am still feeling incredible about my accomplishment. But, the weather has been crappy, and life has been a bit nutty. My landlord decided to put the house up for sale, so for the whole of last week, I hardly got to spend any time at my place because teams of agents and potential buyers were coming through for private viewings and open houses. This surrender of my home really threw a wrench in my week. My friends Liza and Lindsay were a tremendous help with my dog -- Rosie was able to go hang out at there house during the day while complete strangers walked through my house (without taking off their shoes), opening cupboards, closets, and one person even used my toilet. Not sure how I feel about that. So, the surrender of my home also meant a temporary surrender of my routine for that period of time, too.

Last Wednesday, I went out to for a belated birthday celebration with my friend Jonathan, his boyfriend Elliot and Jonathan's cycling amigo, Andrew. We went to comedy night at a local bar, had lots of beer, ate pizza and nachos, and had a fantastic time. I stumbled home late that night, got a little bit of sleep before rising early to vacuum, sweep and prepare the house for private showings that day. I also didn't have much of an opportunity throughout the week to cook my meals. It's difficult to begin whipping together a culinary wonder when the phone rings and an agent is 'in the neighbourhood' (i.e. outside the front door) with a potential buyer. So, let's just say that the eating regimen got put on hold as well. And I didn't get as much time in the gym as I would have liked.

All of those factors combined, and yesterday, when Seb weighed me before our workout, we realized that I had put on just under three pounds.

I felt like crap. I had just dropped over 5 pounds the prior week, bringing my total loss to 177 pounds. And after a week of little routine, not a lot of structure, and an awesome night out for my birthday, I put some weight back on.

Not good.
Or is it???

Of course, my initial reaction was not positive. I went silent, pulled my baseball hat further down over my eyes, and sat with my arms crossed in frustration. Clearly, my body language indicated that I didn't want to talk about it. But Sebastien tried, and we processed what I was thinking/feeling a little bit. We even checked the scale twice, and it still showed a gain.

"It is what it is," I said.
Exactly.

It is what it is.

I've been saying that quite often over the past two years as a way to help me accept the fact that whatever happens in my life, is likely something over which I have little control. So why obsess about it. If something bad happens, there's not a lot I can do to change it in that exact moment. But there are many things I can do to better deal with it the next time it happens.

So I gained three pounds.
It is what it is.

I gained three pounds because I was stressed.
It is what it is.

I gained three pounds, because I unclenched about my routine, relaxed a little and allowed myself to enjoy an amazing night out with friends in celebration of my birthday.
It is what it is.

The more I think about it, I like what it is. Why do I like the fact that I gained weight?

Because now, more than ever before in my life, it's not the end of the world. My weight fluctuates. It always has and it always will. I've come to accept more fully the reality that weight is just a number -- not an indicator of overall health, wellbeing, and more than anything, self-worth.

For example, I now weigh in at about 260 pounds (which I haven't weighed since the 12th grade, by the way). And last week, I had to go to the emergency room because I got my finger closed between two car doors. Long story, gory at the beginning, all good now. When I met with the intake nurse, she looked at my finger, took my temperature, and then put a gadget on one of my other fingers to take my resting heart rate. She let the machine do its thing, and then she said, "I want to try this on another finger."

I realized at that moment what she was doing.

Sitting before her was a 260-pound man, who had just had his index finger slammer between two car doors -- a mildly traumatic experience. She likely assumed that my blood pressure would be through the roof. She likely assumed that my resting heart rate would be very high. I mean, I'm still a big guy.

And even after taking the heart rate for the second time, it still read: 49 bpm.

Yes, my resting heart rate (even when stressed) is 49 beats per minute.
My blood pressure is totally normal.
My weight is under control.
I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm pretty wise.

So, three pounds is not such a big deal after all.
If other people still get hung up on their assumptions about who I am and what I'm like. Well, that's their problem. At the end of the day, I don't care a whole lot about what they think. The only opinion that matters to me, is mine.

And that's why it is what it is.

I'm coming to this conclusion not only because I've finally made an important reconciliation in how I think about myself, but also because it's an important time of year. This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving -- a time of year when we celebrate the harvest and reflect on all things for which we are thankful. However, over the past year, I've tried to remain acutely aware of all of the abundant things in my life for which I am thankful. And I make sure people around me know it more than just once a year at times like these. But indulge me if you will, and allow me to share my list of things for which I am most thankful.

I am thankful for...

My family, who is incredibly wonderful, fantastic, supportive and loving. And even though my parents and brother live in British Columbia, and my sister lives in New Zealand with her husband and three kids, they are always with me each and every day, each of them in his or her own special way.

My close circle of friends (Tony, Liza, Lindsay, Alison, Jonathan, Lisa, Patsy, Steve, Adina) who provide me with an unending level of support and love knowing that this physical and emotional transformation is the most important work I will ever do in my lifetime. I am particularly grateful because run with me, spin with me, workout with me, indulge in bad food with me, walk with me, drink coffee with me, and make me feel more incredible each and every day. They also understand me more than anyone else in my life. That understanding is a pretty powerful thing.

My dog, Rosie. She's a dog. She thinks I rock. She licks my cheek every night when I come home from the gym. What more could you want?

My trainer and friend Sebastien. If you've been reading this blog regularly, you know how important he is to me. I hope to have the opportunity to one day truly thank him for all he has done for me. But I think he takes great pride in knowing that he's created a monster. He's ignited a fire. He's taken a 435 pound man and tranformed him into an athlete. More than anything though, he's helped me learn, accept and celebrate the fact that out of all of the bullshit I deal with in life, that above it all, I am the most important thing out there.

The rest is, well...
It just is what it is.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.
And Happy Thanksgiving.

My really 'big' run

2009-09-27T17:55:00.000-07:00

The day finally arrived. I've been talking about running the 5km race of the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon for some time now, and my friends Alison, Lisa and I have been training for it. Last night the three of us got together with Lisa's sister Kim, who was also running with us, for a pre-run dinner. No, we didn't dine on mounds of pasta -- we dined on a scrumptious sushi dinner. A couple of spicy tuna rolls, some veggies, and a tasty rainbow roll later, I felt well loaded with protein and carbs to fuel the next day's run.

Alison drove in yesterday from out of town for today's run, so she stayed at my place. We work early today, had our coffee, tea and breakfast of champions (steel cut oatmeal with raisins, walnuts, and some peanut butter), and watched the start of the marathon on the news while we contemplated what awaited us. As the newscaster spoke of the 20,000 participants (marathon, half-marathon, and 5k), and the approximately 30,000 spectators, we both started to get a bit anxious. You see, we've been training in the peaceful seclusion of a trail system running along a river by our office, so cranking through a run in front of a crowd wasn't something either of us were quite prepared for. But there was no turning back. A few final adjustments to our attire (the weather was pretty great, about 16 degrees Celcius, overcast), we headed out to catch the shuttle bus to the start line.

Alison and I before the race...

The race was to begin at 10:20am, and we arrived at around 8:15 or so with plenty of time to spare. As we walked past the finish line towards the shuttle, the announcer proclaimed the fact that the leaders of the marathon (who had started just over an hour earlier) were now at their 19th kilometre, and were well on track to set a Canadian record. In fact, the winner did set a record today, coming in at 2 hours and 8 minutes -- the fastest marathon ever run on Canadian soil. Incredible. As we strolled along the last kilometer of the course, the magnitude of it all began to settle in. And that's when I started a long-line of what was to become a series of 'nervous pees' over the next hour or so.

We met up with Lisa and Kim, and hopped on the shuttle to the start line. And big surprise, I had to pee. Upon arriving at the Canadian National Exhibition, I bolted to the loo, and was instantly relieved. We hung out inside for a bit, and gently stretched in anticipation of the race ahead. What we quickly realized was that not only was it a 5km run, but it was also a walk for charity. So, it appeared that some of the walkers were to be in the same start corral as us -- this was going to make for an interesting start. Maybe we shouldn't have been as modest in our estimated times (we said it would take 45+ minutes, which put us in the slowest corral with the walkers). And as this was the first year that the organizers had put together a 5km component, the split between walkers and runners wasn't very clear. So after a few more quick visits to the loo (3 more to be exact, thanks to the big mug of coffee I had with breakfast), we headed outside to join the thousands of people who were about to start the course.

As we stood outside, I started to get a bit quiet. I started to think about what I was about to do. I started to realize that what I was about to begin was something that I never ever thought I would do in my lifetime -- run a road race. Yes, it was a 5k, but you have to remember, that about 19 months ago, I could barely walk on a treadmill. Alison pointed out to me that someone was wearing a shirt that said "I lost 100 pounds." I thought to myself, "Bah! 100? Try 170.... they ain't seen nothin' yet!" But I had to catch myself for a moment there, realizing and remembering that we were all doing this for a wide range of reasons. Some of the walkers who were supporting various charities wore shirts declaring that they were running in support of research on cancer, asperger's syndrome, or other diseases and disabilities. Some local politicians (we have a mayoral race on the horizon) brought their campaign crews. And there were some serious looking runners in among the crowd. As I looked at their shirts, I began to wonder if I should have worn a shirt declaring what I was running for. We joked that we were all running for brunch -- there was a well-planned brunch of Eggs Benedict awaiting us later that day! But, really my shirt would have said one thing and one thing alone:

I'm running for me.

And as I sat in those moments of quiet, making final adjustments to the playlist on my iPod, I started to fell myself getting a bit choked up. This was a big deal for me. I remembered something Sebastien wrote to me in a note on my Blackberry earlier that morning:

"Take a moment before the race and savour this moment: you can do ANYTHING you want now... you're free. Consider the first steps of this run the passage into your new life, and when you cross the finish line, thank yourself for everything you've done to get to this point. Much respect."

This really was the start of something big. And as big as it felt at that moment in time, it was about to feel a whole lot bigger.

Shortly after that moment, the gun fired, and we began to walk towards the start line. There were throngs of charity walkers ahead of us. And I began to worry that I wouldn't actually get to run. I didn't come here to walk. I came here to run. And I started to get kind of frustrated. So, after about 3 1/2 minutes, we approached the start line, and began to run at a very light pace. Before we started, the four of us settled details on where we would meet up at the end of the race -- each of us was going to run his/her own pace, and take this opportunity to do our individual best. So, I turned on my iPod, started my heart rate monitor, and began to run.

My playlist had been designed with the pace of my run in mind. I don't normally run with music, but I figured I would benefit from some good tunes in my ears. The music would help me focus and not get distracted by everything around me. So the playlist I put together included:

September (99 Remix) by Earth Wind & Fire
Hide and Seek by Imogen Heap (Tiesto's In Search of Sunrise Mix)
Paparazzi by Lady Gaga (Moto Blanco Remix)
Sexy Bitch by David Guetta featuring Akon
Fame 09 (Reholder Club Mix) by Naturi Naughton
My My My by Armand Van Helden (Funktuary Radio Mix)
Hung Up by Madonna
All Things by Widelife featuring Simone Denny

(Yes. I like the dance music. Get over it. LOL!)

After Andy at Legacy got me thinking about pacing my run, I began to think about how the music could get me through it. I typically run in intervals of running and walking. But today I wanted to split my run into two intervals only. And the music would help carry me through it.

And it did.
Until I realized I had to pee. Again.

So, out of the start line, I tried to get going at a good pace. But I was surrounded by walkers, and found it difficult to get into any sort of stride. The first few hundred metres felt like a very light trot of sorts -- and I found myself weaving between walkers, some of whom strolled along the route in a broad line, bearing banners and signs in support of their respective causes. I think it's great that they were there... but I started to get a bit aggravated about how much 'space' they were taking up. After about 500 or 600 metres, I felt like I finally started to get a bit of a stride and pace, and in looking at my watch, realized that I had just wasted about 5 minutes trying to weave through walkers and actually get started. In order to come close to my 30-minute goal, I knew I'd have to run at a pace of about 6 minutes per kilometer, and given that I was moving at about half that pace, I started to get a bit frustrated.

And then I took a deep breath.
"Focus," I told myself. "Get over yourself. Quit looking for excuses. Just run."

And I did. I set into my stride, and before I knew it, I had run the first three kilometres. I hadn't made up for my lost time at the start, but my pace felt good, and I was quickly passing all of the walkers, and many of the runners. Now, when I drive my car, I tend to drive in the passing lane. Driving fast feels good. Passing slow drivers feels even better. Running the same way was feeling pretty spectacular.

As I approached the 3 1/2 km mark, I kept my eyes out for a portable washroom. Because even with my renewed focus, I still had to pee. So I slowed my pace to a fast walk, thinking that I would find a loo on the horizon. But amid the water stations, I saw no washrooms. So I kept running.

Not only because I was there to run... but also because I still had to pee.

In running along the next stretch of the course, I began to fixate on the fact that I had to go to the washroom. Would I be able to discretely run to the side of the course and go there? Then I began to think about how grossed out I would be if I saw someone doing the same thing. Maybe I would just wet my pants. I could toss a cup of Gatorade on myself from the water station -- it was lemon/lime flavour, after all -- and claim that I had an 'unfortunate spill'. But no. I wouldn't do that. And then I remembered something that Yvette, a trainer from the gym wrote on my last blog post:

"Mind/body....at the time if ever one wants to give in, remember the other is ready to KICK IT UP!!!...TUNE INTO yourself....make the switch, take the flip and kick some*ss!!!"

At that moment, I realized that my mind was taking over. I was completely fixated on the fact that I had to go to the washroom. I needed to get that out of my head, because I could my pace begin to slow. I needed to pick it back up.

So, I got back into my groove, and began to really run again. I looked at my watch and realized that I was behind pace -- and likely wouldn't make my goal of 30 minutes or less. And quickly, my mind began to take over again. I had to remind myself of where I was... and from where I came. Getting to this point in my journey was already a big deal. Finishing my first road race was the real goal. The time was irrelevant.

I then dropped my shoulders, took a deep breath, turned up the volume on my iPod and got back to business. And it was going to feel "like buttah" from there on in....

As I turned off Lakeshore Boulevard onto Bay Street, I was searching for the 4-km mark, but didn't see it. I didn't really know where I was at in terms of distance, but in the distance, I could see Toronto's Old City Hall -- just to the left of which was the finish line. I looked at my watch, and it read: 28 minutes. And I looked to my left and saw a 500-meter marker. Could I crank out the last 500 meters in 2 minutes? Could I possibly make my time? I thought about trying to run the last stretch as fast as I could. And as I took a deep breath to pick up my pace, I looked around me and saw throngs of people lining the course. This was the point where the full marathon route and the 5k / half-marathon route merged. So the energy and excitement was much bigger than I had anticipated. And it quickly got more overwhelming than I imagined.

Just as I had taken that breath to pick up my pace and run hard, my breath got caught in my throat, and I started to get choked up. There were people cheering me on. I never thought I would ever feel how incredible that was. I was the one who always stood by the sidelines and cheered other people on. And today, they were cheering for all of the runners. Even though they didn't know me, they were still cheering for me.

That's where this experience got really big.

I needed to get back into it. I had no desire to approach the finish line as an emotional mess. I could have my moment to myself later -- I wasn't going to have it in front of thousands of people. But I could feel deep within me that this was a major moment. As much as I had said, and cognitively realized that this was something I never thought I would ever do, that moment -- that moment when the cheering began to blur, the music began to rise, and my stride began to lengthen -- was the first time I had actually felt how really big this was.

And it felt unreal. And I started to giggle. And I knew I was good.

So I got my focus, and began to scan the crowd for my friends Jonathan and Elliot, who were going to try to catch me at the finish line. I found myself scanning left and right, unsure of where I might see them. And realized once again that my brain was taking over. Time to focus again, and let my legs do their thing.

Turning the corner at the 100 metre mark

I picked up my pace, and approached the 200 meter marker. I thought to myself, "I can't believe this is actually happening." And as I made the slight turn on the course, at the 100 meter mark, the finish line came into sight. I decided to really run. And just as I did, I looked to my left and saw Jon and Elliot standing at the top of the bleachers cheering me on. I gave them a quick wave, and then began to sprint towards the finish.

Passing by Jon & Elliot en route to the finish...

Moments later, I crossed the line. My time from the official start was 35:57.9. I turned off my iPod and Nike+ sensor, and my watch, and realized that my actual time was closer to 32 minutes. I remember thinking to myself:

32 minutes.
I didn't hit my goal of 30 minutes.
32 minutes.
Friggin' walkers at the start.
32 minutes!
Holy shit, I just ran a 5-k in 32 minutes!
32 minutes!!
Holy shit, I just ran a 5-k!!
32 minutes!!!
Cool!!!

My actual chip time was 32:10.3. I figured that with the slow start (yes, I have yet to forgive the walkers...), that I probably would have come in closer to 30 minutes. And after checking the pace of my run on my Nike+ sensor, I ran at a pace of 6 minutes per kilometer. So, I'm adjusting my time to 30:10.3. Yes, I'm adjusting it. Remember, I'm not trying to qualify for Boston here. ;)

My other run stats (yes, this is coming from a guy who doesn't like to deal with the 'numbers' of this whole weight-loss journey):

Of 4249 5-km participants, I placed 1659 overall.
In my category of men aged 35-39 years, I placed 86th out of 158.
Out of all of the men, I placed 769th of 1481.

Not bad for a guy who used to weigh 435 pounds, eh? I think it's pretty friggin' spectacular, if you ask me.

After I turned in my race chip, I made my way to the meet & greet area, and connected with Jon and Elliot. Shortly thereafter, Lisa, Alison and Kim came in... and we had all run our best races! We had trained for this... and it paid off. So we gathered as a small group, and took a moment to soak it in. Something that each of us had thought at one point was going to be difficult or challenging, was finally very real. And very exciting.

Me, Alison, Lisa and Kim, enjoying our accomplishment at Toronto's Nathan Phillips Square

So there you have it. Shortly thereafter, we cleaned up, met up with our friends and had an amazing brunch. Ironically, I didn't have the Eggs Benedict. I had a steak & cheese omelette, home fries, and grilled corn bread. Do you know how much fat is in hollondaise sauce?!?! Oh, I also had a celebratory shooter. ;)

An incredible way to spend a day. Brunch with friends. A road race with training partners. And declaring victory over my own self-doubt and uncertainty, which have been the fuel for my demons for so many years. Again, this wasn't just a race against the clock for my best time. It was a race against myself -- my mind, my body, my soul. And today the three all worked together to leave me with a feeling of excitement and elation that I've never experienced before.

And I hope that one day, all of you who read this experience the same feeling. In whatever way you can.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

PS. Yes, I finally went pee. ;)

Leap of faith

2009-09-25T19:15:00.000-07:00

So the final preparations have begun for my first road race this coming Sunday. It's a 5km run -- the first I've ever done, and I'm starting to get psyched for what Sunday might bring. In true Virgo style, I'm taking care of the details -- checking the weather report, making sure I've got meals appropriately planned, having my gear all in place, creating the 5km playlist on my iPod, and basically, I'm relaxing.... as much as you can when you're about to do something you never thought you ever would ever do.

Rewind 19 months... remember, I was 435 pounds and could barely crank out a 10-minute walk on a treadmill at the gym. I never thought I'd get to a point where I was preparing for a 5k run, and thinking that this is but the first step in may more runs to come. What I once thought was unimaginable is now close to being very real, and I'm pretty excited by the possibility.

The 5km run is happening on a pretty flat course, and it's part of a marathon and 1/2 marathon series that is run in Toronto each year. Mentally, I'm trying to treat the run just like any other 5k training run I've done. I should be well fuelled, well hydrated, well rested, and relaxed (hopefully). But I can't help but get a little bit anxious and excited about what awaits me in just under two days.

My bib number for the race is 16459. Holy crap! Does the numbering start at 00001? Does that mean there will be over 16000 people running on Sunday? That's a lot of people. That's a lot of people running. I'm looking forward to the anticipation, the excitement and more than anything, the adrenaline. Because I'm hoping that the adrenaline will give me the extra push I need to reach my goal on this one.

You see, I've really only been running for about 3 months. Sebastien and I took our first run on July 1 -- a hot Canada Day run along Toronto's Boardwalk. And since then, I've been running several days each week; sometimes alone, but most times with either my friend Alison or my friend Lisa, both of whom are running on Sunday as well. This is going to be an exciting day for each of the three of us, because we've each got our own reasons for doing this, and I'm looking forward to sharing our success together at the finish line... and celebrating it over eggs benedict at brunch later that day!

But the brunch plans aside, I'm excited about Sunday because I know that my running has been getting a lot better. The cardio and strength conditioning in the gym and in the spinning studio has helped build my endurance. I can run longer, farther, and faster than I ever imagined. And since I've clocked my personal best run at 31:04 just a few weeks ago, I've decided that my goal for Sunday is come as close as I can to getting my 5k in at or under the 30 minute mark. We'll see how that goes... I'm not sure that I'll see that happen.

This past Wednesday, Seb and I did my last official training run. We had scheduled my workouts and runs over the past two weeks so that I'd have a few days of rest before Sunday. And Wednesday's objective was to run the best 5k I could, and hope to come in close to the 30-minute mark. Well, Mother Nature was not on my side that day. I had watched the weather report the night before, and in spite of the lovely autumn weather we've had over the past few weeks, Wednesday was close to 30-degrees Celcius with the humidity. And even though we were running along the lake, the air was thick, and I couldn't catch my breath. I was anxious off the start -- first of all because this was the first time I had run with Seb since our July start, but also because the humidity was not going to make it comfortable.

We got started, and from the first few steps, I began to feel the fatigue from my full-body resistance workout I had done the night before at the gym. My legs were good, but my arms, chest and back were tight. And my chest was even tighter after each stride because I didn't feel like I could get my breathing pattern down pat. I was breathing too high, and couldn't get a good deep breath going from my gut... so everything felt very tight altogether. And breathing from your chest makes your arms tight, your shoulders tight, your back tight... and basically makes for an uncomfortable stride. And overall it didn't improve. If Seb hadn't been running with me, I probably would have stopped and walked home, but I had to finish. I've made a pledge to try to never give up, and when Seb's willing to run alongside me, I feel like I have to respect that and give it my best.

And I did. We ran the 5k -- talking at some points, running in silence at others. But that silence was powerful. His stride helped keep me on pace, and kept me moving at many moments where I just wanted to stop. And beyond the sound of our feet hitting the wooden planks of the boardwalk, the only other thing I really felt like I could hear was the shallow breathing that I knew wasn't making things any easier.

But I didn't choose to do this because it was going to be easy. Tackling a 5k was about doing something that was going to challenge me and force me to be uncomfortable -- because I know that from that discomfort comes growth and change. And that's what I kept telling myself with each step towards the end. If this was easy... I wouldn't be doing it.

We got back to the car, sprinting the last 100 metres or so, and I stopped my timer. We finished in 34 minutes. So, we hadn't hit the target of 31 minutes or less. And initially I was pissed off. I began to blame Mother Nautre, for having no breath and too much humidity. I felt like I ran a crappy 5k -- and Seb quickly pointed out that 19 months ago, I never imagined that I would ever say that I ran a crappy 5k... let alone a that I ran 5k to begin with. That made me feel a bit better.

So I've been resting the past few days, per our plan. I did a spinning class tonight at Legacy because I couldn't bear to not do something active tonight. I took a day of rest yesterday, and I'll have another one tomorrow. But I had to move my butt tonight. I was once again the only one who went to the late class, so I fortunately got more 1-1 training with Andy, who put me through a workout tonight with endurance in mind, knowing that I have the run ahead of me on Sunday. We didn't do much power work, but instead focused on endurance -- I rode for about 45 minutes straight at varying intensities. And it felt fantastic. Andy helped me think through my pace, my timing and more than anything my focus.

One thing in particular that Andy told me was that the race is not about running against other people -- it's about trying to get my goal time, and as such, is a race against the clock. For the most part, I agree, since my goal is to come close to or under the 30-minute mark. In so many other ways though, this is a race against someone else. It's against one person in particular -- the ghost of the person I once was, who, 19 months ago never ever thought I'd become the person I am today.

Do I really need to run a 5k race to know that I've already won that one? No... but it will sure be sweet in continuing to prove the point. :)

All that said, I sign off with the text from a card a friend sent me today, wishing me well for the run on Sunday.

It's called a leap of faith
because there is strength in daring to take the leap.
And the faith happens just before you realize
That you've begun to fly.

The run ahead of me on Sunday will definitely be a leap of faith -- letting my body do what I've trained it to do, trusting that what I've done thus far has prepared me well It's also about putting my brain to rest for the 30 minutes it will take for me to achieve yet another of my goals -- to not overthink what I'm doing, and simply let my body take over. And trusting my body is not something I'm used to doing. But It's something I'm learning to do more and more each day...

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

And now... I spin.

2009-09-20T10:09:00.000-07:00

Now, for the past few months, I've been getting a bit bored with my cardio workouts. Even though I've taken up running, and am officially one week away from my first ever road race (the ScotiaBank Toronto Waterfront Marathon... I'm running the 5-k), I have found lately that my cardio sessions, which are about an hour a day, have been mundane. I know this not only from the fact that my mind begins to wander, and I am not fully 'present' in the workout, but also from the fact that my calorie burn and heart rate output hasn't been as high as I would like. So for a while, I tried to vary my cardio sessions, by doing a circuit of 10 minutes of running, elliptical, and stationary bike work, but it was still a bit dull. That said, I had started to disengage a bit with what I was doing.

Then, a few weeks ago, my very dear friend Liza asked me if I wanted to try a spinning class. Spinning (or indoor cycling) is a low-intensity cardio workout done on a high-end stationary bike. I figured this would be great training, because I have set another goal of joining my friend Jonathan on the Friends for Life ride -- a 5-day 600-km bike ride between Toronto and Montreal in July 2010 to raise money for people living with HIV/AIDS. The difference between a spinning class (which lasts about 50 minutes) and simply doing a ride on the bike at the gym however, is that the instructor takes you through a multi-terrain workout of sprinting, hill climbs, all-terrain rides, and interval power rides that push your body through a wide range of work and recovery periods that provide for a pretty incredible workout. As the rider, you control the intensity of your workout, but cranking up your dial -- adding pace, resistance and intensity to your ride, that allows you to be fully in control of where you take your body on any given day. It's a pretty cool experience that really forces you to be connected to what you're doing with you body; to know your strength, your weakness, and most importantly where you can capitalize on the opportunity to push your body that little bit further and burn lots of calories. Now, add into the mix a group of about 10 or so other riders (all of whom have differing skill levels) who are all committed to challenging themselves to take their workout to the next level, and a leader who is part night club DJ, part coach, part instructor, and part beneficiary of the benefits of spinning, and you end up with a pretty cool workout.

So Liza and I went for our first class a few weeks ago, and Andy, the instructor at Legacy Indoor Cycling took the time to make sure we were properly fit on our bikes, and that we fully understood how everything worked. This was reassuring, because another friend had tried a spinning class a few months prior, and ended up with a bruised tailbone and a whole lot of pain. I had heard spinning horror stories -- it hurts, it's hard, it's intense. So, I didn't know what I was necessarily in for. But, given all that I've accomplished in the past 19 months (dropping 170 pounds) and my new mindset that healthy living is business, I was excited about the possibility of this new experience.

Liza and I made it through our first class. Andy told us our goal was to simply keep moving -- don't try to keep up with him, don't try to pace ourselves by the people around us. Liza joked that her goal was to not fall off the bike... deep down inside, that was my goal, too. Andy shared his own experience of how spinning had helped him get into shape and lose weight -- and told me that I would likely find it helpful in the same way. I told him what I had already lost at that point, and to myself said, "...and you ain't seen nothing yet!" But my confidence aside, this was something new, and I was excited by the possibility. The class stared, and I got into the pace of the ride. I experimented with 'the dial' -- the only thing standing between me and realizing my fullest potential. And I was in control of it. The dial controls the resistance on the bike's flywheel, and it's from resistance and pace that one can reap the tremendous benefits of spinning. Even though the goal was simply to finish the class, after a few minutes, I couldn't help but get sucked into the energy of it all.

So we finished the class, walked back to Liza's place and did a bit more stretching to make sure our legs didn't turn to goo. The first class was free, and we chatted about whether or not we would go back. After a while, we concluded that we'd give it another go, and see how it felt.

I went back the next day.
And I've been hooked ever since.

Over the past few weeks, I've been concentrating on improving my technique. Now there's an old addage that equates the simplicity of many things in life being "like riding a bike." It's something that is pretty intuitive, straightforward, and rudimentary, right?. Now, indoor cycling isn't incredibly complex, but it does take some attention to proper technique and tuning your mind to what your body is doing at any point in time, so that you can minimize the potential for strain or injury. And that's been my focus for the past few weeks.

And this morning, I feel like I've got it.

My workout regimen consists of working out 6 days each week. On three days, I do a combination of weight training and cardio. On the other three days, I do 60-90 minutes of cardio. And very quickly, indoor cycling has come to take up an important spot in my routine. I've replaced three of my cardio segments with spinning, and am also managing to get in my weightlifting and training runs for my 5k. What I have then, is a wonderful amount of variety in my workouts that not only maintains my interest, but also keeps my body 'guessing' at what I'm going to do next. And it's the physiological uncertainty -- that ability to challenge my physical being, that keeps my metabolism on its toes and burning those all important calories and body fat. In other words, I feel like I'm in control of my body...and that my body is longer in control of me.

And it feels good...really really good.

What has helped my technique in the past few weeks is the opportunity for some concentrated instruction from Andy. On two occasions, I've gone to the spinning class not feeling totally into it, but committed to showing up knowing that if I simply get there and get started, I'll feel better. The first time this happened, there was one other person in the class, and as beginners, Andy spent time helping each of us fine tune our technique.

And the class each of us did the day after was incredible.

Then, this past Friday, I decided to fit in a class before I went out for dinner with friends to celebrate my 36th birthday. I figured that since I was planning to consume lots of decadent things (beer, lamb shank, gnocchi) that I should fire up my metabolism and give my body its best shot at burning what I was about to put into it later that night. So, I got to class a bit early and joined the session that was already underway. I rode for the tail-end of that class, and then eagerly awaited the arrival of other participants to join me for the 6:30 class. And no one else showed up. So there I sat on the saddle, hoping to have a bit of an easy ride (it was my birthday after all, and ironically, it was also Lance Armstrong's), and Andy looked at me, grinned, and said he was going to teach off the bike. Normally he's at the front of the room on his bike, donning his headset and microphone, coaching our team through the ride. But that night, he stood in front of me and took me face to face through a 45-minute class.

And it was awesome.

I cranked through 842 calories in 45 minutes. I had sweat pouring off the end of my nose. My shirt was soaked, my muscles were tight (in a good way), and my legs felt like 'buttah'. I had the opportunity to talk to Andy about where I was 19 months ago, and what got me to where I am today. He shared that his experience was similar in some ways, and I realized at that moment, that once again, I had stumbled serendipitously upon someone who 'got it'. Like Sebastien, the folks at Legacy have a tremendous amount of respect for the individual journey each of their members. I mean, how lucky am I to have come upon a trainer, a gym, and now a spinning studio where I am not pre-judged for who I am, but am instead encouraged to be the best possible person I can be? I really have struck the jackpot on my fitness journey, in so many ways.

Furthermore, one of the beautiful things about spinning is that, as a fitness modality, it designed to meet you where you're at -- physically and emotionally. And the class environment creates the context in which you can take yourself to the very next level... and beyond. The people who are in the class are all there to support one another. We go through rides as a team -- not unlike Lance Armstrong and his riders -- using our collective strengths to get one another through the course. Some riders lead, others follow. Some riders recover while others lead the pack through the next bit of 'terrain'. Some of us grunt (I do that a lot), some of us go "Woot!", and some of us close our eyes and create a picture in our mind's eye of what we're doing.

It's a pretty cool experience.

Today, there were twelve of us in the class... at 9:30 on a Sunday morning. The energy among the riders was palpable. Some participants were first-timers, others were seasoned riders, and some were in that middle space (like me) where we're still figuring out and enjoying every push of the pedal along the way. There are moments when Andy encourages use to crank up the dial. And there are likely many of us who think "I'm not sure I can give it one more turn." But you look across the room, and see one of your team-mates cranking up her dial. Her legs slow at first, but then begin to power through the resistance of the flywheel. And you reach down, turn your own dial, and do the same. And you crank, and you pump, and you ride.

And you feel fantastic.

You can't help but feed from the energy of other people in the room. When you're feeling like you may not have much more to give, there's always someone else -- riding alongside you, or just ahead of the pack who, with a grunt, a 'woot' or a smile, gives you that extra boost you need to keep spinning and take it to the next level. And you get to the end of class, dripping in sweat, smiles on faces, and congratulating one another on a job well done -- something that sitting alone on a stationary bike at the gym is incapable of providing.

It's pretty spectacular, when you think about it.

I'm hooked. Seriously hooked.

Kia kaha,
Stay strong.

This is business...

2009-09-16T17:54:00.000-07:00

It's official. As of tonight, I have now dropped 170 pounds. In just about 19 months, I have lost the equivalent of a grown man. After Sebastien weighed me in at the gym tonight, he started to giggle a bit. He giggles every now and again, and I just pass it off as him enjoying what we're doing. But tonight the giggle meant a little bit more than I thought.

You see, last week, I recorded my first 'gain' since Seb and I actually started tracking my progress in weights and measures. I had two pretty nutty weeks at work prior to our session last week, and was just happy to still be standing at the end of it all. I worked 17 days straight with no days off, and managed to squeeze in some training here and there. My diet was crap -- I didn't load up on fast food, but I didn't necessarily try to eat well either. Let's just say that my daily dose of raw broccoli wasn't happening. So last week when I weighed in, I had gained just over a pound. I had been regretting that moment for quite some time. I told Seb time and time again that if my weight remains the same, I'm cool with that. But I'd simply lose it if I gained.

Gaining just wasn't an option.

But after our weigh in last week, I was frankly too freakin' tired to even care. So I gained a pound. Big deal. I'd make up for it. So I refocused, we fine tuned my resistance workout, I concentrated on my training for the upcoming 5km road race, and threw myself into my new obsession: spinning. And my focus paid off.

Tonight, I made up for last week, and lost four pounds, to finally arrive at a 170-pound loss. That's the same amount as a grown adult male. Seriously. 170 pounds!?!

And that's why Seb was giggling.

I still remember the moment when I clocked a 100-pound loss. That was exhilarating. It was overwhelming. I laughed, I cried, it was better than Cats. And over the past few months, we have both quietly watched the pounds drop off, as I've continued to reach my goals time and time again. I hit my next milestone, and we indeed indeed celebrated those moments. But we just continued cruising along -- me doing my thing, Seb challenging me to do more each time, and things have been tickety-boo.

But he started laughing tonight because 170 pounds is a huge deal. As he said, "I mean, 100-pounds was a big deal... but 170 pounds is, well... ." We started naming people around the gym who we thought weighed around 170 pounds, and I quickly began to realize what I've accomplished. Pretty remarkable. I think Seb could only giggle because it's kind of well... indescribable.

And then we jumped right back into things and started my workout.
Business as usual.

What's been interesting to me over the past little while is that week after week, I lose weight. I find new ways to challenge myself, and continue to learn more and more about who I am -- not just as a person physically, but about who I am in all of my dimensions. But this is business. I take this stuff VERY seriously. A woman at work the other day asked me how I've done it -- again, that there must be some sort of secret. Simply being serious about the choice I made to take control of my life is how I've done it. And it's how I'll continue to make it happen.

It'll continue to happen because this is business.

Being active is a regular integrated part of my day. I make very few adjustments to my schedule -- that is, I very rarely compromise my workouts (lifting weights, running, cardio, kickboxing, spinning) for something else. My health, my wellbeing and my happiness are the most important things in my life, and there's no compromise on that. That's what taking this seriously is about. That's what staying focused is about. That's what getting results is all about.

So, the latest goal I've set for myself is to have lost 200 pounds by Christmas this year. That's 30 pounds in the next 3 months. With commitment and focus, I can make it happen. The results are indeed possible. But if I don't hit the goal, I'll keep on keepin' on. I'll keep on grunting, sweating, kicking, running, spinning.

Regardless of the outcome in the months ahead, the only thing that matters to me is that this is business.

And it's business for life.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Living in truth... and running with joy

2009-09-07T18:10:00.000-07:00

So, it's that time of year again... back to school time. I've always loved this time of year -- even as a kid, I would get excited about new pens, backpacks, notebooks.... you get the picture. Let's just say I shouldn't be left alone with the office supply catalogue at work -- there's no guarantee as to the damage I could do.

However, over the past 17 years, my excitement has been less about school supplies and more about reconnecting with people. Since my first year of university in 1992, I have been in some way, involved with helping people move into residence or with new student orientation (frosh week). This is my career. I work in university student services, and from my first days as a student leader, this has been the most exciting time of year for me. Again, not because of the school supplies... but because of the possibilities. Allow me to explain.

Since I first got involved in student leadership, I have had the opportunity to participate in a wide range of leadership training programs. As a residence don at The University of Waterloo, as a grad student at The University of Vermont, and as a professional at both Simon Fraser and the University of Toronto, this time of year has always been characterized by intensive work hours (I'm going on 15 days straight), facilitating lots of training workshops, and more than anything, connecting with young people -- university students -- who are new student leaders, full of potential, promise, and enthusiasm for what awaits them in the year ahead.

As a professional, I've had the chance to visit various institutions and deliver training workshops and keynote addresses related to leadership. This past weekend, I delivered two. On Saturday, I travelled to Huron College at the University of Western Ontario in London, where I delivered a 4-hour workshop on diversity, advocacy, assertiveness, and conflict mediation. It was a bit of a training mega-session, and I hope that the 16 student leaders who participated learned something. My sense is that they were pretty tired from a full week of training, and the last thing they wanted to do was do a 4-hour session on heavy issues like equity, bullying and conflict resolution. I didn't feel like I really connected with them. Even though exploring leadership and its connection to issues of diversity and equity is my research focus in my doctoral studies, I didn't necessarily feel like I was speaking to them from any place of relevance or truth. I don't think they were 'into' it, because I wasn't really 'into' it. In spite of the fact that dealing with this range of issues is such a huge part of my day to day work, they didn't resonate in a way with that sort of authenticity that would allow me to connect with a group of 16 young adults in as impactful a way as I thought I could.

That said, I took the train back to Toronto with a bit of a heavy head... and a heavy heart -- feeling like the keynote speech that I was to deliver the following day at Brock University in St. Catharines was destined to bomb.

I started my day off with a leisurely stroll outside with Rosie, and then a 50-minute spinning class at Legacy Indoor Cycling in Toronto. Spinning is my new addiction. I love it. My friend Liza introduced me to it two weeks ago... and I'm hooked. It provides me with an incredible workout... and it a blast at the same time. But I'll talk more about that in the weeks ahead. So, I started my day off on a good foot.

St. Catharines is 123 kilometres away from my house. And on all-highway driving, it should take just about 90 minutes to get there. It took me 3 1/2 hours to get there... traffic was insane!!! My stress level was on the rise... and I was already feeling anxious because I hadn't done as well as I had hoped the previous day. Even though I spent a few hours the night before fine-tuning my speech (which was about leadership, motivation, and change), I was still worried that it wouldn't go over very well. Add my anxiety from the drive to the mix... and well, you get the picture.

I arrived on campus with one minute to spare before I started my speech.

And I was a wreck.

My colleagues who invited me to speak got my laptop connected, I took a few quick moments to use the loo, and eventually found my 'centre'. It was time to begin. To a room of about 125 students, I spoke about my experiences as a student leader. I told them the story of how my roommate in first year urinated in my closet. I shared with them how I was inspired by a group of students who coloured their residence building as a Pride-flag in response to some homophobic incidents on campus. I told them about how learning with humility and leading in justice were among the keys to success for them.

And then I told them about how living in possibility was what leadership was truly all about. I told them that living in possibility was about doing one thing every day that scared the shit out of them.

And I showed them one of my kickboxing videos.

I showed them that kickboxing with Sebastien was in many ways about scaring the shit out of myself. Not only because it was about the sissy-gay boy learning to kick, punch and fight back... but most importantly because it represented how far I had come in this incredible journey towards better health.

And then I showed them my before and after shots.

They cheered. And they clapped. And a few of them rose to their feet.

I had connected with them. Unlike the day before, where I didn't feel like what I was saying made much sense, something I had said connected with this group. Was it the stories about my time as a student leader? My story about being the target of homophobia? The account of my journey towards better health?

It could have been any of the above... or a combination of them all. But as I drove home from Brock, feeling more joy than I have felt in a very long time, I realized that the connection I made was based on one thing, and one thing alone.

My truth.

My truth is about my journey. My truth is about sharing my story with the people around me. My truth is about being honest with myself and with others and realizing that the only way that I will continue to grow is through being comfortable with my own vulnerability, and scaring myself into realizing my own possibility. My truth is about being 'on display' and exposed. That's what clicked with them.

And I know it clicked because after my talk, I was approached by many of the participants who shared their congratulations with me. They told me I had inspired them. They told me that what I had said and done made so much sense. They encouraged me to keep on going. And one young woman even told me how my story resonated with her because of her own issues with disordered eating. Many of them shook my hand. Some even asked if they could hug me. A few had tears in their eyes. I had never experienced a reaction like this before. It was kind of overwhelming. But so very much needed. Their reaction did more for me than I ever thought possible.

Because the day before, while on the train home from London, I was chatting with Sebastien, and shared with him that I was feeling pretty vulnerable with 'my story'. I've been getting incredible feedback, but I had started to feel like I've been a bit on display. But I am a victim of my own creation, right? I mean, I've been pouring my soul out on-line for the past year, and over 1000 people have visited this blog to read more about my journey. And I've had incredible, wonderful, touching responses from so many readers -- but yesterday, during my talk, was the first time I feel like I really put my story on public display. The story was told by me. On my time. In my voice. And yes, I've been doing that on this blog for some time now, but speaking my truth out loud and in front of an audience is a very different experience. And the incredibly powerful response I got from those student leaders helped me to realize that being on display isn't necessarily a bad thing. My story -- my truth touches people. And it does so because my truth is hard to question. It's hard to argue with. It's hard to deny.

I was chatting with Sebastien tonight (yes, we talk a lot) and I was sharing this experience with him. I wanted to tell him about it, because these students also gave him a cheer and a shout-out because he's an alumnus of Brock University. They're pretty proud that one of their own helped me realize my own greatness... that Sebastien is "kind of a big deal" because he helps me to "be my own big deal" (another key message about leadership I shared with them). Anyway, tonight our conversation helped me to further understand what my 'truth' is all about.

He helped me understand that my truth is irrefutable because my truth is about being full of conviction. I've had to face battles in my life -- coming out as a gay man, dealing with homophobia, learning not to internalize the looks and stares as the former fat man, dismantling my depression, and controlling my anxiety. I've had to learn to fight. And that fighting spirit -- that determination -- is now such an important part of my truth. Embracing challenges head on, and doing what I once thought was impossible is part of my truth. And not being afraid of my own potential and possibility is the cornerstone of my truth.

After our conversation, I was fired up. I needed to do something. Even though I learn a lot from Seb during our training sessions, it's our conversations throughout the week or after our workouts that are the moments where I truly understand what I've been learning. And I always feel like I can conquer anything. I guess that's one of the benefits of having a personal trainer.

That said, I needed to do something with the energy. With the determination. With the conviction. Earlier today, my friend Alison and I went for a run after work. We've been running about 6 kilometers two days a week in preparation for the 5km run on September 27 that is part of the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon. Neither of us were really 'feeling it' tonight. So we decided to do the distance at a brisk walk, knowing that doing something was better than nothing. I mean, I hadn't really planned on doing anything today -- I've been working 15 days straight, haven't been eating very well (two burgers for lunch today and some decadent cranberry-white chocolate cookies), haven't spent any time at the gym in the past two weeks (even though I've been spinning and running), haven't slept a whole lot, and was starting to feel really sluggish and crappy about not having been on my game for the past two weeks. So, at the end of the walk, we were feeling pretty good.

But my chat with Seb made me feel even better. And I have to say I was feeling a bit fired up. I was full of conviction. I needed to do something. So I threw on my shoes, and headed down to the boardwalk for a run. I've been training for this 5km run for the past two months, and this will be the first time I've ever participated in anything like it. I've written about my goal of running a half-marathon in October 2010 -- this 5km run is the first step. A few weeks ago, when Seb and I were chatting about it, he suggested that I simply crank it out at the run and do the 5k as fast as I can. I told him my goal was to finish. In my mind, doing it 'fast' wasn't an option.

Until tonight. I was feeling cranked up.

So I headed to the boardwalk, started my watch, and ran. Most days, I tackle the 5k in intervals, taking a total of 45 minutes on average. But tonight, the run was over before I new it. I set what runners would call a 'personal best'.

31:04

That's nuts. Five kilometres in just over 30 minutes. And that was after weeks of crummy eating, no activity, and a 6km walk five hours prior. The whole time I was running I had Seb's voice in my head, saying "I think you should just crank it and run as fast as you can." So I did.

Tonight... after getting in closer contact with my most authentic self -- with my truth... the day after I gave what I believe to be the best keynote speech I have ever given in my life... 18 months after my first attempt at exercising on an elliptical machine at the gym, when I couldn't last more than two minutes... Tonight, I reconnected with my truth and realized once again that never before in my life, have I been my best possible self.

Life has never been better.
Life has never been more joyous.
Life has never been more true.

So in the next 20 days (before the official 5km run), I'm thinking about getting in under 30 minutes. Thinking about it. I set goals slowly... but at least I'm putting it out there to the universe. I'll decide the night before if I want to do it. Or maybe I'll decide at the start line. Either way... I'll decide.

And it's a decision that the 435-pound man I was a year and a half ago never thought he would ever make.

And that's what I told Seb tonight. My truth is in that moment where I decided I had finally had enough. My truth is in my power to choose.

My choice is clear.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Living... leading... and sparring from the heart

2009-08-30T17:46:00.000-07:00

Last week, I had a pretty challenging training session with Sebastien. It had been a few weeks since our previous session, and we were reconnecting during an assessment week. As you may or may not recall, once a month, Seb does a physical assessment so that we can monitor my progress. We take my body weight and girth measurements from each of my biceps, shoulders, chest, waist, hips, each of my quads and each of my calves. We also do some strength/performance tests that include measuring the number of pushups and crunches I can do in one minute, grip tests on each of my hands, a seated reach test, and my personal favourite, the wall sit (my current personal best on that one is just over three minutes). After we take care of 'business' we have a little fun and have a few rounds of sparring.

From my previous posts and videos, you've gathered that I'm using fitness kickboxing as a way to lose weight, increase endurance and also add variety to my workout regime. You may also recall that getting into the swing of kickboxing has been not only physically challenging, but also emotionally challenging. When I have a sparring session, we go for about 4 or 5 rounds of sparring at about 3 minutes each -- it's a great cardio workout, an intense endurance test, and also a moment when I can see whether or not I'm using the skills I learn in my sessions with Seb, and also my kickboxing classes with Shelley at the gym. For the past few sessions, though, I've been getting frustrated because I haven't necessarily felt like I've made that mind-body connection -- that critical link between what I know I can do and what I actually do physically to full engage and participate in our kickboxing sessions. My frustration then, tends to surface with me calling quits on our sessions when I know full well that my cardiovascular endurance can handle a few more rounds, but cognitively, my brain is tired of thinking about strategy, technique, and also thinking through the emotional shift necessary for a relative pacifist to be physically aggressive. So, even though we will have had a great workout, I haven't left completely satisfied with how I've done... because I know I can do so much more.

While Seb and I were taking a bit of a break over the past few weeks, my anxiety around our session last week started to build -- because it involved sparring. So I decided that I needed to take some time to figure out how to get over this mental block -- this 'thing' in my head that was limiting my capacity to perform at my best while sparring. I thought a bit about the approach to take -- I decided to make one of my cardio workouts each week a kickboxing workout... just me and the bag, and more attention to technique. I also needed to shift my focus from feeling like I need to punch and kick with full force, to punching and kicking consistently, and with enough variety to keep Seb guessing and help me last longer during our sessions. So I did that. But I was still a bit worried about the fact that I was feeling 'stuck'.

I decided to chat with one of the other trainers at the gym -- Yvette Raposo. Highly respected and sought out by may other gym members because of her training approach and her own experience as a pro boxer, Yvette is also an NLP-master -- an expert in neuro-linguistic programming. I figured that since there was a disconnect between what I was thinking and doing -- mostly as a result of interfering self-talk that was grounded in doubt and lack of confidence -- that Yvette would be a good person to talk to.

We had a great conversation where she asked me many questions about what I was thinking or feeling when I'm sparring. What was I looking to accomplish? What did 'satisfaction' look like? What did it feel like? After a few minutes, she quite simply said, "Get out of your head... and into your body." In other words, try to stop over-thinking everything and take the time to connect with what you can do -- in your heart and in your physical being, and let them take over. Taking control of the self-talk -- that internal conversation that undermines my confidence would be critical. Trusting that my body would know what to do in response to Seb's kicks and punches would also be important. But how would I do it? How can I make that shift?

One simple step seemed to help.

This past week, instead of looking Seb in the eyes while sparring, I focused on his chest. Focusing on his chest and shoulders not only tuned me into the type of movement he was doing (i.e. what kick or punch was potentially on its way), but also tuned me into my own body. Instead of staring into his eyes trying to figure out his mental strategy, I focused on his torso and let my own body instinctively respond to the physical game. And I found myself using a wider variety of kicks and punches. My combinations felt better -- I had more variety, better technique, and didn't always lead with the good old 'jab-cross' from my right side. I threw more kicks (I even got over my apprehension about front-kicks... the first few I ever did landed in his 'no-no' zone). I led from my left. I found his open spots -- the parts of his body that he wasn't guarding and taking advantage of that. I also kept reminding myself to not punch as hard or kick as hard. Sparring isn't about that. It's about strategy. It's about endurance. It's about confidence.

So leading from the body helped. Tremendously. I felt better about this sparring session than I ever have. In fact, Seb told me that this was my best session yet and that he was proud of me. I walked off the pain that resulted from a roundhouse where my shin connected with his knee (our pads shifted). I shook off the pain that came after a right knee to his side, that was blocked by his elbow -- his elbow on my hip. Ouch!!! And I also shook off (eventually) a cross punch to my chest. All in all, at several points along the way when I would have previously given up, I kept going. And that felt amazing.

Leading from the heart only now makes sense to me. After we finished sparring, we had a bit of a heated discussion about the intensity of Seb's punches and kicks. Yes, he can get into the moment a little bit, and punch or kick a bit harder than I would normally like. And yes, that helps test my boundaries and determine my new limits. That's what this exercise is about. But when we wrapped up our session, I was pissed off. I was pissed off that he was kicking and punching harder than usual. I was pissed off that when I told him to lighten up... it didn't feel like he did. And when I gathered myself and got back into the round, he would say something like 'don't punch out of anger'. That makes sense.. yes, if I punch or kick out of anger, I'm not doing it for the right reason. At the same time, punching or kicking out of anger could hurt a hell of a lot more than my regular repertoire.

So, in reaction to a few of his kicks and punches that hit me harder (probably my ego more than my body) than I would have liked, I punched back or kicked back a bit harder too. He forced me to raise the bar. He challenged me to push my threshold to a new place. And it was uncomfortable. But it works. Because as I write this, I realize that I was pissed off in part because I was uncomfortable. I was pissed off because I was being challenged to work harder at this. I was pissed off because I was sparring from the heart -- from that place within me that actually gave a damn about what I was doing, that was less concerned about kicking and punching hard, but more concerned about mastering the skills needed to endure a few more rounds than I normally would with a guy who continues to provoke me with lines like "I'll take whatever you give me." Or, "You're gonna tire out, but I could go all night." Ummm... I know how it sounds. He's talking about sparring endurance. No comment. ;)

All that said, after our friendly disagreement, and clarifying how we can better communicate with one another (yes, we could probably benefit from couples' therapy, LOL!) when sparring, I realized that this session felt fantastic.

It felt amazing.

Not just because I kept up and endured more rounds than ever before.
Not just because I bounced back from some punches and kicks that really hurt.
Not just because I was able to get in some kicks and punches that even took Sebastien by surprise.

It felt amazing because I finally stopped relying on my mind to get me through something, and had the confidence and trust needed to allow my body to do what it does best. My joints, my muscles, my limbs... they know what to do. They know how to respond and react. All I had to do was stop over-thinking it. All I had to do was be connected to my body. All I had to do was think less about what Seb was thinking, and respond more to what he was doing.

All I had to do was 'lead' from the heart.

I think I get it now.
I feel I get it now.
I know I get it.
Now.

Looking forward to my next sparring session in September... maybe we'll record it so you can see the difference.

...Maybe. ;)

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Every day is still a bit of a battle...

2009-08-26T19:35:00.000-07:00

Without a doubt, I have had some pretty remarkable successes over the past year and a half. As of my assessment tonight, I've dropped 168 pounds, and continue to see the inches drop off my body. Pretty amazing... and I continue to get great feedback from many people around me about my progress and how remarkable it truly is. And I realize how lucky I am to have had an incredibly successful journey so far.

But every day is still a bit of a battle.

Let me rewind a bit. When Seb and I first started working together, he told me this whole process is going to be a about a 5-year journey. I remember, at that time, thinking that I never wanted to talk to this guy ever again... 5 years??? What the hell? I didn't want this to take five years. Not at all.... But the 5 year journey isn't just about taking 5 years to lose weight. It's 5 years of a personal transformation that can, in some ways, be broken down into phases. Phase one would be the weight loss phase, where I'm focusing on the much-needed task of dropping excess weight so that I can get my body moving in ways it has never moved before. Phase two is about moving beyond weight loss as an initial process, and into challenging myself to do things that are more about living an active lifestyle -- things like running a 10km race, taking up new activities like spinning, or finding new ways to stay active outside of the 'weight loss' mindset. Phase three is then about balancing my knowledge, skills, behaviour and passion for active living to ensure that I continue to take a healthful and balanced approach to the many many years of living I have ahead of me.

So for the past year and a bit that I've been training with Sebastien, we've been really focusing on increasing my cardiovascular endurance, my strength, and indirectly, my confidence. In Phase one, I've shed 168 pounds. My blood pressure has leveled. My resting heart rate is 44 beats per minute. Not bad for a guy who used to weight 435 pounds, eh? But we're turning a bit of a corner on this last 'leg' of phase one of my journey. I feel like we're making a bit of a turn into Phase Two. And it's starting to scare the shit out of me.

As I approached my last target weight goal, I was beginning to think that I was done with weight defining my goals. I thought that my new goals should be more about defining my success less by what I weigh, and more by what I can do. However, when I stepped on that scale, and achieved my goal two months ahead of schedule, I realized that there was one more leg to this phase of the journey. So my last 'weight' goal is to have lost a total of 200 pounds before Christmas 2009. As of tonight, I've got 32 pounds more to go... and Seb assures me that these will be the most difficult. To use his words, "The first 168 pounds are easy... it's the next 32 that are going to be tough!"

As crazy as that sounds, I know he's right.

These last 32 pounds aren't only going to be difficult because my body is likely coming closer to what could possibly be my 'natural' body weight. And if that's 235 pounds, I'm really good with that. Hell, 235 pounds is better than 435!!! And I'll be good with 235 pounds because I can already taste the possibilities of what I will accomplish as a 235 pound man. But that's also what's scary.

Part of why turning this corner into Phase 2 is difficult, is because in many ways, it will be a first test of how sustainable my weight loss and progress will be. In the months ahead, I plan to run both a 5km road race, and a 10km race. I will be taking a spinning class with my friend Liza. I continue to run at work with my friend Alison, and on weekends with my other friend Lisa. Next summer, I plan to do a 600-km bike ride to Montreal with my friend Jonathan. And the following October, my friend Troy plans to join me as I complete my first half-marathon. So these are all exciting things... what am I afraid of???

Well, I'm afraid that I could possibly end up being one of those people who talks a big game. And little else.

And why I have that fear, is because convincing myself each and every day to live a life that is committed to health, wellness, happiness, and balance can be tough to do. For example, over the past three days, there is nothing that I have wanted to do more than sit down to a dish of sweet and sour chicken balls -- even though I've never really liked them. There is still a large part of me that believes I will find comfort and happiness at the sight of an empty plate, or in this case, at the bottom of a bowl of sweet and sour chicken balls! So, as I turn the corner into Phase two, I'm a bit apprehensive because I'm not entirely convinced that I've made the full cognitive switch that is necessary for this to all be sustainable.

Or maybe I'm expecting too much of myself.
That wouldn't be the first time that happened!

I need to remember that these 'demons' have been with me for easily 25 years... is it too much to expect that I will have fully conquered them in only a year and a half?
Likely.

How will I continue to challenge myself to accomplish all of these exciting new things, when my visceral instinct is still to say to myself that there's no way I can do what I've set out to do, so why not just avoid the embarrassment and give up?
Why not? Because doing so would be the easy answer. I took the easy way out for 25 years. And I went into this knowing that this wasn't going to be easy.

So I guess what I'm trying to reconcile still is the fact that I don't feel like I've been totally transformed. And I'm not sure if I ever will be fully changed. While I don't think I was necessarily a food 'addict', I have to think about my past behaviours as being addictive behaviours. And like other people who live with addiction to alcohol or other substances, I am beginning to accept the fact that I will always be, at my core, someone who lives with this 'addiction'. Where my success will continue to come from, is my ability to recognize and address those moments when my addiction has the potential to get the best of me -- the cravings, the bad food choices, the inactivity, the self-doubt, the lack of confidence, the low self-esteem -- and know how to move beyond those moments with the knowledge and belief that I have made a choice about living my life in a better, more balanced and healthier way. And yes, even though I made the right choice for me, I'm going to screw up. As I've written before, I plan my cheat nights, and anticipate my screw ups -- and if I falter, I know what it takes to 'correct' the mistake.

I guess part of why I may be thinking this way is that in addition to the amazingly reaffirming feedback I get, I also get reactions from people that make me a bit uneasy. I've had a couple of people talk about me in such a way that I've made this drastic life transformation and that somehow, it's easier for me because I already spend so much time working out. There's this sense of comparison -- that I couldn't possibly know what it's like or them because I've already battled my demons. I really hate this idea that this is in any way easy. If anyone had a true sense of what the debates in my head sound like when I have to convince myself to go to the gym, and not sit at home with the blinds closed eating a pizza, they may only then begin to understand that this is in no way easy. It's a constant battle against my worst enemy -- myself.

And when you are your strongest offense and your strongest defense in the same game, that's one tough battle to win.

I've also had some people (thinking I'm not listening to them) say things like "He can't be eating." Or, "There's gotta be a gimmick." Someone even asked Seb if I was really eating a balanced diet to support the level of activity that I'm cranking out each week. Doubt makes me feel unsettled. I already wrote one blog entry about how much hard work this truly takes. I've also written quite a bit about what a battle this really is. And to have people wonder what my 'trick' is, or assume that I'm obviously doing something 'wrong' that's going to bite me in the ass later... well, it's offensive. The doubt simply, is disrespectful.

So why am I writing this tonight? Well, in some ways faithful readers, I'm preaching to the choir. My sense is, that by being a reader of this blog, that you already 'get' what it takes... and how difficult this is. But I guess I write this entry tonight because I hope to instill in people, and perhaps you will share this with those around you, that this is not just a 5-year journey. This doesn't end once I've hit my target weight. I will not be 'better', 'cured' or 'normal' after Christmas this year. This is a journey for life. I do not anticipate arriving at a moment at time when this will all end.

Some people have asked me, "When will you be done." My response? Never.

The battle is ongoing. I continue to grow my artillery. My ammunition gets stronger. But the counter attack that I will continue to face is that voice in my head -- that devil on my shoulder -- that romanticizes my former life. It's a voice that continues to try to entice me back to a place where the easy answer was the only answer; where if I didn't confront my fears, that they would simply go away. But as my body grows stronger, so does my spirit. And so does my resolve to tell that voice to shut the f*%k up.

But the voice will always be there. Sometimes I won't hear it. Other times, I'll hear it and choose not to listen. And other times, I'll listen and begin to think that what the voice is saying makes a lot of sense. And I hope that those who read this, or those who dare to doubt me from near and far, never forget that the voice will always be there. And to question my success, or to assume that the voice is gone and that my demons have disappeared, is to judge my journey. And to judge my journey is to doubt my resolve. But at the end of the day, don't ever doubt the power and potential of a former 'fattie'. 'Cause if the doubt doesn't kick you in the ass first, I will be there to kick it for you.

All that said, thanks for indulging my rant... had to get that off my chest. I feel better now -- and have always felt great knowing that there are hundreds of people out there reading my story and supporting me from the sidelines. That helps me build my resolve. Thank you for being a part of it.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Out of the gym and into the city...

2009-08-18T11:16:00.000-07:00

Now that summer has finally arrived in Toronto, I've been enjoying a lot of time outside in the sun. I've become a more serious and focused runner. I got back on a bike (my neighbour's bike) and am seeing the city from a whole new perspective. And I find myself looking for new things to do that will spark my interest and keep 'the active life' interesting.

What this has meant then, is that I'm spending less time in the gym. So, I've had to shift my thinking a little bit around what makes a good workout, and what are the sorts of things that I can be doing outside of the gym that will not only help me continue to lose weight, but also to challenge the boundaries of my own perceptions of what I thought I could never do.

And I'm having fun doing it.

What has been a tremendous help is finding different resources to keep me interested, and to show me the range of things that can be done outside of the traditional construct of the gym. I stumbled upon a website a while back called Generation Go, and it's a fantastic source of information about what active living opportunities exist in Toronto. I've consulted with it extensively, and have used it to find new activities and things to do on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

What is also cool about Generation Go, is that as a resource, they've been very supportive of what I'm doing. I've gotten questions answered; am starting to make new connections, and today, they featured me in a profile of people who lead an active lifestyle!!! Very cool... so check it out: http://tinyurl.com/mn67y8

I guess one of the important lessons I've learned is that getting healthy is indeed about good habits. For sure -- it takes discipline and commitment to make such a significant life change. But it's also about variety. It's about exploring new ideas, new activities, new options and new people -- to help keep your mind, body and spirit active. And the coming together of all three components... the synergy of mind, body and soul is what I have found is the key to unlocking my potential to make a change.

Maybe it's your key too...

Kia kaha
Stay strong

Oops, I did it again...

2009-07-31T15:47:00.000-07:00

I've gone and done it. Again.

After setting a goal in January that I thought would take until September to achieve, I met the goal in early May. Shortly thereafter, I was riding a pretty good high, and set my next goal with September 18 (my birthday) as my target: I wanted to reach 275 pounds.

Tonight I blew it out of the water.
Again.
A month and a half ahead of my target.

Tonight, I weighed in at 271.8 pounds. That's down 161.2 pounds since I was at my heaviest. Go ahead... do the math. I'm finally saying it publicly. There's no shame in saying that yes, I was once a 435 pound man. Not anymore!

Not only have I dropped 161.2 pounds, but I've also trimmed over 70 inches of fat off my body. My confidence continues to grow. My strength improves each and every day, and my endurance is incredible. I train like an athlete. I am an athlete. I train hard at the gym. I run about 15km each week, and am picking up speed each and every day. My blood pressure is normal, and I've got the resting heart rate of a marathon runner.

Don't know what more to say... I feel amazing. I continue to learn more and more each day about my body, my spirit, and my self. I continue to push my physical and cognitive limits, and surprise myself at each turn, learning that there is very little I can't achieve -- especially if I put my mind, my heart and my soul into it.

So there you have it... a quick update. Another moment of elation, of relief and of pride. And I can't say much more, because words cannot even begin to describe what moments like these mean to me.

(Sebastien and I after our sparring session tonight... always a good time!)

So, whatever your journey, whatever your path, whatever challenge you face, whatever battle you fight, I offer you again the two powerful words that my sister shared with me, and from which I draw tremendous strength and determination.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong, my friends. Stay strong.

PS. New goal... another 36.8 pounds before December 25, 2009. That'll be 200 pounds in 2 years. Talk about a Christmas present!!!

On the verge....

2009-07-22T20:02:00.000-07:00

Last week marked my first week back in the gym after a my vacation. My two weeks off were followed by a week where I had a pretty nasty sinus infection, so not much time was spent sweating out the calories or eating anything particularly healthy. You know how it is -- you feel like crap, and oddly enough eating comfort (sometimes crap) food is what makes you feel better... a bit better, that is.

So, just in time for a weekend training session with Seb, my sinuses cleared and I was ready to get back into my routine. I was feeling a bit anxious because I had been away from it for so long. In fact, looking back on it now, I was probably feeling a little depressed -- not only because I was sick, but also because I realized that I didn't miss working out as much as I thought I would while I was off. I mean, it was really easy for me to not go to the gym for three weeks. It was really easy for me to dig into a decadent cheesy pizza instead of my daily dose of raw broccoli. In other words, getting back to my 'old ways' was really easy... and I didn't think I would revert that quickly, or even that willingly. I was feeling a bit disappointed with myself -- not necessarily for having taken a break from the rigor of daily life... that we know, I needed. I was disappointed that I felt like I was beginning to slip. And when you've focused on staying strong for so long, that slipping feeling wasn't a pleasant one.

So, on a Sunday afternoon, I headed back to the gym for my training session. It was so great to see Sebastien again -- when you end up spending such intense time with someone, and when you develop what is an emotionally and intellectually intimate relationship with your trainer, it's tough to be apart for three weeks. My friends often joke that we have a wierd co-dependent relationship, but it is what it is. And I'm lucky to have it. I am blessed to have someone in my life who helps me refocus and get back into gear, so reconnecting with Seb was something I was looking forward to.

At our session, we spent a good chunk of time regrouping and discussing our next steps. Essentially, I am five pounds off my September 18 goal (again, ahead of schedule!), but am also heading into a really busy time. I'm back at work, I have classes two nights per week, and I've been out of sync for a while. So we decided that for the next four weeks or so, we'd ease back into it and take it easy. Yeah, right! That afternoon, Seb got me started on doing some hanging crunches, as well as vertical pull-ups using a block for assistance. While I'm not able to do a full chin-up from a hanging position yet, my arm, chest and back strength is increasing, and I'll get there before I know it. And that was our session. Later that night, he e-mailed me my routine: 3 days of full-body resistance training followed by some cardio, and two days of cardio work. If I can squeeze in one more cardio day, then it's all good. Given my hectic schedule, I was planning on doing the full-body resistance work on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, doing some light cardio on Tuesday and Thursday, and maybe squeeze in something else on Saturday. Sounds like a good week, right?

Well, for the past few months we've been doing circuit work. Essentially, you do a set of exercises in a series, with little or no rest in between each set. The goal is to maintain an elevated heart rate, ensuring that your resistance work helps to build not only muscle and strength, but cardiovascular endurance. You proceed through a series of exercises back to back, take a one minute rest, and then do the series over once or twice again. Pretty straightforward, right? Well, on Monday night, I set out to do the routine for the first time, and here's what it looked like:

Warm Up: Run on the treadmill at 5.0 mph for 15 minutes

Light Stretch of legs, arms, chest, back.

Resistance: Do each series in circuit, 2-3 sets of each circuit:
Series A
Leg Press: 15 reps x 540 lbs
Chinups: 15 reps
Bench Press: 15 reps x 135 lbs
Standing Dumbbell Shoulder Press: 15 reps x 25 lbs
Standing Bicep Curls (both arms same time): 15 reps x 30 lbs
Bench Dips: up to 30
Rest: 1 minute, repeat twice

Series B
Squats: 15 reps x 185 lbs
Seated Row: 15 reps x 130 lbs
Pushups: 15-20
Lateral Raises: 15 reps x 15 lbs dumbbells
Bicep Bar Curls: 15 reps x 60 lbs bar
Tricep Ropes: 15 reps x 60 lbs
Rest: 1 minute, then repeat twice

Core: Do these exercises in circuit, rest where indicated. 2 sets of each circuit
Hanging Knee Raises: 15
Decline Bench Situps: 30
Ball Crunches: 100
Rest: 30 seconds

Cardio: 20 minutes elliptical at level 13, 20 minutes on bike level 12 (random)

Cool down stretch. Then go home and eat.

So that was the workout. It looked completely reasonable on paper... and totally achievable. I mean, this was nothing I hadn't done already. Well, remember those moments when you realize that your eyes are bigger than your stomach??? This was one of those moments! Diving back into it after three weeks off was TOUGH!!! That night, I burned close to 2200 calories doing this workout -- insane!!! But it felt incredible. And I was looking forward to ploughing through the same routine the next Wednesday with Sebastien.

On Wednesday, we met up for my session, and following my warmup and stretching, we dove right into it. We had an hour to get through the two series of circuit work -- totall do-able. And it was at that moment that I once again realized the tremendous value of working with a trainer.

I have been working with Sebastien for just over a year now, and I can honestly say that I have never had a session where I worked harder than I did last Wednesday night. I was able to do so becuase he was by my side encouraging me, getting me through everything I needed to do, and reminding me that all of this is entirely possible. Not always with words -- sometimes being there is all you need from someone. And that's what you would expect from a trainer, right? I mean, I've watched pretty much every episode of The Biggest Loser and a lot of other weight loss shows, and have seen their trainers work them just as hard. But I've also wondered how contestants get to the point where they either throw up, or simply lose it and start crying.

Well on Wednesday night, I was on the verge of both. Sebastien had me working so hard, that I was working at 88-92% of my maximum heart rate for about 40 minutes. Insane. That was the ultimate test of my endurance, and I am thrilled that I was able to keep pace. But it didn't come easy... not at all. How would you be able to tell? Well, I'm one of those guys at the gym who doesn't like to make much noise. Yes, I recognize that grunting and moaning sometimes helps you squeak out one last rep -- but I have never been very 'vocal' in my workouts. On Wednesday, I went home with my throat feeling hoarse from all of the grunting and shouting. Yes, I turned into the weightlifting meathead who makes a lot of noise... but it's what I needed to do. It's also what I feel like I needed to do to avoid falling to the floor in a puddle of tears.

Working out at my intensity and pace (at that of a full-tilt athlete) takes not only a lot of physical endurance, but also an incredible amount of mental stamina. This journey has been an unbelievable victory for me -- a victory over a battle that I have tried to fight so many times beofre in my life. And the amount of sweat equity it takes to make this much of a change is matched only by the 'tear equity' -- that is, the amount of emotional fortitude and strength it takes to get it done. So when you've got your trainer telling you to crank out five more reps, when all you want to do is turn around and punch him in the face with the barbell (I'd never do that, Seb), your strength has to come from somewhere. And it's not from your muscles.

It comes from your heart. It comes from your soul. It comes from a place deep within where you find and contemplate travelling "the avenue of gain" (to again use the words of choreographer, Li'C). And sometimes it comes out in tears. Those tears start in that same place where self-determination and belief, and often the lack of both, come together to help me to crank out those next few reps, knowing that when I make it through to the end of the routine, I'm going to feel a feeling so incredible that it will be worth every drop of sweat.

Well, the interesting thing is that I didn't feel that increidble feeling right away. Not only was I on the verge of tears a few times, but as we neared the end of our session, I seriously thought I was gonna hurl. I was cranking out my last set of tricep pulldowns, and when I got to the 10th rep, I could feel something brewing inside... and it wasn't good. So, like every determined athlete, I kept going. I realize now that when I get that feeling, I should stop. But I was five reps from the end. So I had to finish it out. I wasn't going to quit. And when I got to that last rep, I was done. I was spent. I had nothing left inside, nothing more to give.

And I didn't throw up after all. Close call, though!

But I did go home that night, sat on the couch for a bit and reflected on what I had accomplished. And at that moment, I moved beyond the verge of tears and had a good power cry... you know, the therapeutic cry that makes you feel better. And these tears weren't because I needed them to help me crank through a few more reps of my routine. They were there because I was so friggin impressed with myself that night. I never imagined that I would ever be able to work this hard. I never envisioned a time that I would train near the pace of a professional athlete, and still be standing afterwards. I never fathomed the possibility that I would consider myself as being an athlete. I mean growing up, that was a word reserved for the people who, from a quiet distance, I wanted to become, but never ever thought I would ever be.

Well, I am now.
And it feels friggin' incredible.

So, getting back into my routine was tough. And powering through my workout on Wednesday night was even tougher. But it was possible because I've got the guidance and support of an incredible friend and trainer. More importantly, it was possible, and will continue to be so, because I've got something now that I never had before -- the unshakeable belief that I can do anything I want to do.

So bring it on.

I'm supplementing my strength routines with 5-kilometre runs. I've done three 5K runs this week alone. And my legs feel great. Seriously. I'm beginning to both educate myself more about running, and wrap my head around my goals that lay ahead: a 5K road race in September, a 10K next spring, and a half-marathon in Fall 2010. I think I'm going to hop on a bike and ride to work someday soon -- it's only 33k each way! And in the fall, maybe I'll take up karate.. who knows? The possibilities are endless -- endless because I've learned to face my demons head on, even when I'm on the verge of tears and throwing up, and know in my heart and my soul -- again deep down in 'that place', that I will always win.

Always.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Relaxing with Meryl...

2009-07-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

Without a doubt, I've been working hard. I've had this intense focus on health and wellness for over a year now that has been almost unshakeable. And it has been fantastic. But what has been even more exciting for me, was the prospect of taking a break from it all -- work, home, working out -- and chilling out while doing something I absolutely love... travelling and watching great theatre.

It feels like it has been a couple of years since my last overseas adventure, and this year, I decided to stick closer to home than I normally would. But I decided to do something that has always been a bit of a dream -- spend days soaking up the lights and energy of Broadway in New York City. As I'm a bit of a Broadway musical junkie, so many people have a hard time believing that I've never been before. But after finding amazing deals on hotel and airfare, and show tickets, one of my best friends Tony, (that's him and I on right outside of NYC's Schubert Theater) and I set off on July 6 for 4 days in the Big Apple.

Now, as this isn't a blog about travelling, I'm not going to spend too much time yammering on about how much I fell in love with New York. But I'm only going to say it once -- seriously. That city is incredible. Here's a quick list of the highlights:

We saw four stunning shows: Next to Normal (a musical about bipolar disorder), In the Heights (a musical about life in the latin community in NYC), 9 to 5 (a musical version of the famous movie starring Dolly Parton), and Blithe Spirit (a play featuring Angela Lansbury and Rupert Everett). All the shows were fantastic -- we laughed, we cried, it was better than Cats.

Although we had a lengthy list of things to do, we didn't overdo it. We hung out in Herald Square, had lunch on the Lower East Side, shopped at Macy's, and just soaked up the city. We didn't do any tourist attractions... saving those for my next 10 trips.
I fell in love with the Upper West Side... and got my photo taken in front of Will & Grace's apartment building.
Oh, and just a minor detail. We met Meryl Streep. She had dinner at the table next to ours. We waited outside the restaurant for an hour for her. We shook her hand, said hello and soaked up her stunning brilliance. She smells floral. Seriously. I haven't washed my hand since!

All that said, the highlight of the trip to NYC was the fact that I learned to let go, and relax. I was a bit nervous heading into the trip because I knew that I wasn't going to be able to work out as much as I have been. In the week leading up to the trip to NYC, I had a one-week 'staycation' here in Toronto, and gradually weaned myself off the gym in preparation for a week-long hiatus. Seb and I went for a 5k run on the boardwalk, my friends Mo and Jim from BC did a 25K bike ride with me along the harbourfront, and I also ventured out for a solo 5K run along the beach. I hadn't spent that much time being active outside for as long as I can remember, and it felt fantastic!!! The off I went to NYC...

I brought my gym gear with me, with every intention of getting up in the morning to do a quick bit of cardio at the hotel gym. On the first morning, Tony woke up and headed up to the gym, while I stayed in my cozy bed at the hotel. It felt good to say 'No, I'm not going to go to the gym today' and to roll over and fall back to sleep. I didn't think it was going to be that easy to say 'no', but I did. And it felt nice. Although part of me is wishing that I had gone to the gym that morning... not because I missed the workout, but because I missed Tony choreographing his own broadway musical on the treadmill, much to the delight of the contruction workers looking into the gym from the adjancent building... but that's another story altogether!!!

We walked all over NYC and enjoyed the abundance of tasty food that the city had to offer. I didn't completely overdo it on the food front, which for a self-proclaimed foodie, was a tough thing. But we had some amazing pizza at Li'l Frankies in the East Village, started our days with 'cawfee' and donuts from Dean and Deluca, or strudel and blintzes from Zabar's, and I "found Jesus" in a pastrami on rye from Katz's deli, ironically the same place Meg Ryan had her fake orgasm in When Harry Met Sally. We had a Jamba Juice before each evening play we saw, and had reasonable dinners -- sometimes a quick slice of pizza, a sandwich, or as we did one evening, some gnosh, wine and dessert at Angus McIndoe's Restaurant, where we dined next to the incomparable Meryl Streep. I did say that I met her, right??

I had one of the most enjoyable vacations I've ever had -- because I unclenched and I relaxed. I didn't worry about what I put in my mouth. I didn't worry about the fact that I was missing my workouts. I didn't worry about the fact that my routine was shot for a week. Why? Because I was thoroughly relaxed and enjoying myself. I was living one of my dreams... 4 days of Broadway in NYC!!! Nothing could wipe the smile off my face!

But I did start to frown for a short while during our trip. Before I left, I did a bunch of clothes shopping to get ready for both the NYC trip and a subsequent family wedding in Pennsylvania. I had everything I needed except for a summer-weight v-neck sweater to go with my newly acquired seersucker shorts from Joe Fresh. Yes, i've become a bit of a fashionista. I saw a v-neck at the Gap here in Toronto before I left -- perfect size, a 2XL, and decided not to buy it in case I saw something better in NYC! But after searching at a few stores, including Macy's and Century 21, I decided to head back to the Gap in NYC and buy the v-neck sweater. But when I got there, they didn't have any 2XL sweaters! This was a bit unsettling, because US retailers tend to carry more 'extended sizes' than Canadian retailers. But they didn't have ANY 2XL menswear, so the v-neck sweater was history. Until the next day.

We were strolling through the Upper West Side, after having taken some photos in front of Will & Grace's apartment building. Passing by yet another Gap store, we went in to check for a 2XL men's v-neck sweater. Again, no 2XL sweaters. I was starting to feel sad. Just when I was starting to feel like I 'fit' in 'normal clothes' from 'normal stores', I couldn't find what I wanted. Now I know that many of you are probably thinking that it's just a sweater, but when you spend a lot of your life shopping at Big & Tall speciality stores, finding nice clothes that fit well is really difficult. Now, Tony sensed that I was started to get frustrated, and suggested that I should at least try on an XL sweater. I rolled my eyes and told him 'no'. He told me just to try it. So, I made him hold my man purse (er, I mean 'European Men's Carry All') and my sunglasses, while I reluctantly pulled the size XL sweater over my head.

It fit.

Like, seriously. It fit. I couldn't believe it. I have NEVER worn an XL sweater from the Gap. When the Gap came to Canada, I already outsized their inventory. This was pretty remarkable. I mean, 18 months ago, I would have been buying a 4XL men's sweater with no style or shape. And I got the XL I thought I'd never fit. And I haven't taken it off since... well, I have... but I still haven't washed the hand that Meryl Streep shook. Did I mention that I met her? Did I mention that she smelled 'floral'???

By the way, this photo was taken in front of one of the Big & Tall stores where I thought I would shop on my first trip to NYC... Ironically, nothing there fits!!!

So, all in all the trip was relaxing... and rewarding. I got my elusive grey sweater. I had a blast. I truly relaxed. After four days in what is one of the most amazing cities on the planet, I set off on the train to Pennsylvania for my cousin Brian's wedding. I was a bit anxious because there were many family members there who hadn't seen me in a long time (i.e. since the beginning of my journey)... and my Dad was going to be there -- he saw me this past Christmas, but that was about 80 pounds ago. So, I was a bit anxious, but exicted at the same time.

After a long nap on the train and the shock of leaving Manhattan to arrive in Amish Country, I arrived in Lancaster, and my Dad met me at the train station. He was thrilled to see me and didn't stop giggling for a few minutes - I'm assuming out of excitement for how good I looked. Relatives who I hadn't seen in ages remaked at how amazing I looked. Many people asked me what my 'secret' was... and I was thrilled to tell them that it was a lot of dedication and hard, hard work. I sent many of them here, to my blog, or specifically to my last post, to get an idea of how much work it takes. And their amazement and admiration made me feel incredible.

So, all in all, this was an incredible trip. I chilled out. I relaxed. I fulfilled a dream. I met Meryl Streep. I spent 4 days in NYC with one of my best friends. What more can I ask for??? Oh, I know! For the first time in 10 years, I flew on an airplane without having to ask for an extension for the seatbelt! The regular standard seatbelt fit around me, with tons of room to spare. That was one of my goals -- to comfortably sit in a 'coach' airline seat.. and I did. And it felt amazing.

All that said, I'm proud of myself for having taken the time to relax and to fully celebrate what I've accomplished. It has been a long long haul so far, and I've still got a long way to go. But I needed this break. I truly truly did. And as one friend commented, "Man, you fu**ing deserve it."

He's right. I did. And I do.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

PS... Stay tuned for my next post about getting back to the gym after being on vacation and having a week-long sinus infection! The transition back has not been easy. And I promise the new post come much sooner than this one!!!

PPS. Another photo... this is the hand that Meryl shook. You know, Meryl Streep. Did I mention that I met her? And yes, I've washed my hand since. Lightly, but it's clean. I mean, seriously.

Kickboxing.... 151 pounds and 6 months later

2009-06-28T19:51:00.000-07:00

One of the interesting things that I've noticed over the past six months or so, as various people see me and react to the changes they've seen in me, is that a lot of people don't have a true picture of what it really takes to make the changes I've made in my life. I've written several times in this blog about my issues with the health and fitness industry, particularly how it preys upon unsuspecting and easily influenced people in search of quick solutions to complex problems. I think part of why people don't fully understand what it takes, is that the health and fitness industry would be happy to have most people believe that all they have to do to get into shape is to go for a 30 minute walk and they'll be fine. Now, I acknowledge that my journey started with my inability to sustain a 30-minute walk, and I do respect the fact that we all have to start somewhere. But what I find particularly intriguing is the fact that many people think that there's some quick-fix -- a little known secret that helps make this sort of transformation occur. A few weeks ago, I wrote about my secret to success: good old hard work, intense focus, and an unshakeable commitment to myself and my success. Many people I've encountered don't realize that I actually DO work out six days each week. I eat like a champ. I train like an athlete. Losing 151 pounds in just over a year and a half takes more than simply going for a walk for 30 minutes a day. This is tough stuff to do, and actually doing it has helped me to realize why so many people struggle with this issue. It's incredibly hard work. But it pays off.

You may recall my blog where I first wrote about fitness kickboxing that I've been doing with Sebastien. It was cool to punch and kick my trainer. It was very cathartic and an incredible way to decompress after a stressful day at work. It provided me with an intense cardiovascular workout that I never anticipated getting. And more than anything it was fun. It was even fun enough to record a video of one of our training sessions and share it with you! Take a quick peek and check out how I was doing 70+ pounds ago...

Since Seb first introduced me to fitness kickboxing, I've also started taking a weekly class with Shelley -- the manager at the gym, who runs a great group class that is an amazing workout. She has helped me to refine and hone my skills. My technique has been fine tuned, my cardio endurance continues to improve, and my confidence grows. It grew so much that Sebastien and I even started sparring. Yes, after several months of me kicking and punching him with training pads, Seb started kicking and punching back. And that was a whole different experience.

Punching someone is one thing. Being punched back is something completely different. I quickly lost my confidence with kickboxing because I not only had to focus on executing good technique on all my forms, but I also had to think about how to be on both the defensive and the offensive at the same time. Kickboxing with Seb became more of a mental battle than a physical one, and I started not enjoying it as much. So, we've not been sparring as much as we used to, but on the weeks when we do my assessment, we make sure we have some fun and get in a few rounds for kicks.

This past week, we made two recordings during our session. This first video is me going through some forms on the training pads with Seb. Remember, this is 6 months since the first video, and what I love more than anything is the sound of my fists and my legs hitting those pads... the crack! sound makes me very happy.

This second video is Seb and I doing a quick round of sparring. Our typical session would be several of these rounds (each running about 2-3 minutes) with breaks inbetween. I was a bit hesitant to record this one, because sparring still feels foreign. Correction: being punched and kicked and having to punch and kick back still feels foreign. But after watching it a few times, I now realize how much I've improved and how cool this stuff really is. I also now see myself being physically aggressive in a way that I never thought possible -- not only because of my personality, but also because of my physical inability to be so. Well, now I can. I can kick, punch, grunt and shout with the best of them, and damn, it feels good.

So, my regular training and kickboxing classes have brought me to this point. As of this week, I've lost a total of 151 pounds, and well over 70 inches of body fat. I can run 20K on the treadmill, and will being training for a series of 5K and 10K runs in anticipation of my half-marathon in October 2010. This past week, I also had a workout during which I did 1000 crunches. Why? Because I can. But getting here has taken intense hard work. This is not the result of daily 30-minute walks. Yes, that is where I started, but I quickly had to turn up the intensity to get to this point. And what keeps me going? What motivates me to crank out a 2.5 hour workout on a Sunday afternoon? What keeps me focused on workouts where I burn close to 1700 calories???

Remember the cracking sound from each punch and kick. Listen to my grunts and shouts and I punch and kick back. That's what keeps me going. The incredible feeling I get after one of these sessions keeps me motivated. The fact that I've come so far keeps me focused. And the prospect of what these videos will look like in another six months is what keeps me inspired.

This is what hard work looks like.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

I smiled so much, my cheeks hurt.

2009-06-18T18:31:00.000-07:00

This past week, I went to the annual conference of my professional association, the Canadian Association of College and University Student Services (CACUSS). The conference was a four-day event, hosted at my alma mater, the University of Waterloo. I have to admit, I was feeling a wee bit anxious about going, not only because these sorts of events have a lot of social time, and as such tend to produce a lot of anxiety for me, but also because this was going to be the first time I came face to face with a large number of people who have been following my journey either on Facebook, on Twitter, or through my blog. I thought it was going to be a little off-putting to finally interact with a group of people who now know more about me than they ever knew before. It was also going to be odd to interact with people who know me, but who haven't seen me in over a year and who had no idea what I've been up to over the past twelve months.

The conference began on Sunday afternoon, and I was a bit lazy in my preparations. I was doing laundry late on Saturday night, didn't pack until Sunday morning, and wasn't able to make it to the gym before I left town. A bit frustrated that I hadn't been better organized, I headed off to Waterloo a few hours before the conference was to begin. I figured that once I got there, I'd be able to quickly check-in at the residence, and then get an hour of cardio in at the gym. However, once I arrived, I quickly learned that the conference's events were to start only 30 minutes after my arrival, and some time at the gym wasn't in the cards. That said, I had to quickly come to terms with the fact that I was missing a workout. Remember that I've been working out 6 days a week for the past twelve months, and missing a day is a bit of a big deal. But once I gave myself a few moments to digest the fact that missing a workout isn't the end of the world, I felt better. That said, I did some last minute primping in the mirror and headed off to the opening reception of the conference.

Walking into the room, I was instantly greeted by familiar faces, most of whom quickly embraced me and congratulated me on my accomplishments. Some people stood back in a bit of amazement given the fact that the last time they saw me, I was about 150 pounds heavier. Others gushed about how incredible my journey had been to follow and that I had motivated them to make some changes in their own lives. Some people even paused awkwardly, saying nothing about my transformation, even though the pause indicated to me that they knew something was 'different'. Perhaps they didn't really notice exactly what that was. Maybe they didn't know how to tactfully say 'holy shit you're not fat anymore'. Or maybe they just paused for dramatic effect. Who knows? Regardless, the range of reactions was not only exciting and reaffirming, but also initially unsettling and uncomfortable at the same time.

As I've discussed before, I'm needing to grow more and more comfortable with the fact that the attention I now draw as a result of my physicality is not necessarily a 'bad thing'. I realize that I present very differently in the world now, and I no longer feel like people are staring at me thinking negative things about me. In fact, my therapist recently helped me to better understand my anxiety by coming to realize the fact that most people in the world really don't even care to notice me in the first place. But the people in my life who do care, do notice, and I'm quickly getting to a place where what I think is more important than what anyone thinks. It's a tough mind-shift, but it's happening.

So, as I moved through the room with a beer in my hand, I encountered more and more people who were thrilled to see me and who shared so many wonderful thoughts and compliments. I realized then, that putting aside my anxiety and enjoying the fact that so many people, in my professional circle no less, actually gave a shit about me. I work in a very caring profession -- surrounded by people who make it their life's work to care for and support the learning and development of college and university students. So, it's only natural that we care that much about one another. And it was interesting to me that it took this moment to realize just how wonderful my colleagues are, and what a caring community I am a part of.

Over the course of the reception, and the days that followed during the conference, I spent a lot of time 'coming out' again. This time I wasn't coming out as a gay man, but instead, I was coming out as someone who was getting healthy; as someone who had aspirations to run a marathon; as someone who finally learned to love and care about himself. Telling people more and more about what my journey has been like got easier and easier with every new conversation. Disclosing to some people that I was also dealing with depression and anxiety also became less awkward. Celebrating my accomplishments with people who have been following along with each new blogpost was exhilarating. Just as I noted in my last posting, telling my story and honestly talking to people more about what I'm doing helps to heal the wounds of my past, and give me more and more strength. I draw tremendous strength from the fact that people say things like:

"I am so proud of you for what you've done." "You're the person I wanted to see most at this conference." "It makes me so happy to know that you're healthy." "WOW!" "Your story is my own reality TV show. I've never missed an episode." "You have never looked happier." "Simply, you inspire me."

And these are just some of the comments I remember.

Granted, all of the attention was a bit overwhelming, and I did have to take a few moments to be with myself to re-energize. I found those moments early in the morning at the gym on campus, finally feeling like it was a place in which I belonged. I found them as I strolled quietly through campus, remembering that my alma mater is a place where I've always felt comfortable and at home. I also found those moments in quiet conversation with my closest friends, who knew of my recent anxiety disorder diagnosis, and wanted to make sure I was doing okay. Those were all some pretty wonderful moments, that helped me to be more and more open to powerful interactions with people who honestly could do nothing less than admire what I had accomplished.

This also became clear to me on Wednesday morning, when I had the opportunity to train with Shawn McCloskey, who I knew when we were students, a former professional colleague, and the partner of Pam, one of my dear friends from university. Shawn is a trainer, and when I knew I was going to the conference in Waterloo, I knew I wanted to train with him. I contacted him a while back, sent him my workouts, and was looking forward to training with him. I was excited about this, because one of the things that I've been struggling with over the past few months, is understanding how the context of my relationships have been changing. My friendships and relationships are no longer located in the context of shared meals, and food. They are becoming increasingly located in new experiences like long walks, working out together, or simply taking the time to relax. Interacting with Shawn in this new way was going to be exciting.

We met at 6:45 on Wednesday morning, and Shawn was going to put me through a leg workout. I chose a leg workout, because it's the workout that I'm most comfortable with. I told him to try new things if he wanted, and to put me through the paces. Other friends who knew I was training with him told me to expect a rough session. But I was up for the challenge.

Shawn told me we were going to do a bit of a paradigm shift in our training. Instead of working legs with machines and weights, we were going to use my own body weight to work my favourite muscle group. We did a lot of squats, jump squats, lunges, and jump lunges (a combination known as 'the crusher'). We worked with medicine balls and kettle bells. We truly did use my body weight to work my legs and at several points in our hour together got me to the point where my quads felt like butter and I wobbled from side to side. We even did some power cleans (which he was impressed with), and on a "jerk" or "snatch" lift, I knocked myself in the face with a 105-pound barbell. No worries though, no damage. The workout was amazing. It was great to see my strength materialize in a different way. It was also pretty cool to hear Shawn react to what I was capable of doing and comment on my endurance. Hearing that from yet another person whom I respect was pretty cool.

So, my time with colleagues and back at my alma matter was a bit of a whirlwind, but very memorable at the same time. What I remember more vividly than the reactions of my those around me, is that over the course of four days, I walked 'the tallest' in my life. I embraced people (literally and figuratively) with greater sincerity and warmth than ever before. I laughed with more joy that I thought was possible. And I smiled so much that my cheeks hurt. For the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I wanted to crawl inside of myself and hide from the attention I was getting. I was proud to be the center of attention. I loved the fact that two people introduced themselves to me, not realizing that we have in fact met several times in the past few years. It all felt good -- so very very good. To a great extent, I think it felt good because I knew the attention was coming not only from people about whom I cared, but also from those who cared about me.

And it feels tremendous to know that so many people care.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

The Secret behind 33 pairs of jeans

2009-06-07T17:34:00.000-07:00

So, I finally bit the bullet and decided to get some new clothes. Well, the decision was kind of made for me. My friend Alison has been trying to get me to 'de-clutter' my house (and my life), a big part of which included downsizing my 'big man' wardrobe. A few weeks ago, I decided to sort through all my clothes.

I took a page out of the home organization tv-shows and got out my big plastic bins. Putting four of them on my bedroom floor, I labelled them: Toss, Tailor, Sell on E-Bay and Give-away. I was pretty relentless and and got rid of everything that either didn't fit, I didn't wear, or had in fact, never worn before (i.e. the clothes still had tags on them). Tossing clothes out of the closet and dresser and into one of the four piles, it took only 20 minutes to downsize a lifetime of fat clothes to the only things left that fit me: 2 golf shirts.

Then it hit me: losing weight is going to be really expensive!!!

So, I haven't totally off-loaded the contents of the four bins, but I have since started shopping for new clothing. Last week, I decided I wanted a new pair of jeans. Again, it was somewhat necessary given the fact that I could no longer tactfully cinch a belt in order to make a pair of pants that are 16 inches too big fit around my waist. Let's just say that the MC Hammer look isn't so cool.

I went to a store and ruthlessly chose every pair of jeans off the rack that were my size. Quickly I realized that this was not going to be as easy as I thought. All this time, I was looking forward to shopping at a 'normal' store and getting clothes off the rack. Easier said than done. You see, all of this working out has forced the true dimensions of my God-given anatomy to shine through. In other words, my quads are huge. I inherited my Dad's powerful legs, and even though I've lost tons of weight, my quads (which are pretty close to being 95% muscle) still measure close to 26 inches around. Yes, I admit, I have those power-lifter quads that a lot of guys would pay lots of money for. My calves are taking on a naturally sculpted look. And I love the fact that my legs are... well, hot. That said, not being able to squeeze these legs into a discounted pair of Calvin Klein jeans was not was I was hoping for.

About two hours later, I had tried on 33 pairs of jeans. At about the 20th pair, I was sitting in the changing room, almost in tears, on the verge of calling my friend Tony (who works nearby) to come and rescue me. Had I called, he would have come, but I decided to persevere. And on the 33rd pair, I slid on a pair of Buffalo Jeans by David Bitton, and they fit like a glove. They hugged my legs, cradled my butt, and felt, well... amazing. Thank God they were marked down from $120 to $39 (I was shopping at one of those designer clearance/discount places). And I left the store happy.

But I still don't like shopping.

Since last week though, I've managed to take advantage of a few killer sales, and have filled my closet with shirts, pants, shorts, shoes, etc. that all finally fit. The difficult part is that they're not going to fit again in the next 6 months or so. But it's what I have to do. I have to get used to the fact that my body is going through a tremendous transformation, and that one of the most important parts of getting used to it, and feeling more comfortable in my new skin, is dressing the body that I now have.

And I have to say, I'm enjoying the attention I'm getting...

No longer are people saying to me, "You can really see your weight loss in your face." Now that I'm wearing clothes that actually fit, they can see it everywhere. I stand taller. I walk prouder (yes, I just made up that word). I turn heads more. I enjoy the attention. And enjoying this attention is not something I'm used to. But I'm growing to like it... seriously, I am.

Now that I'm attracting all this new attention, a lot of people are asking me how I've done it. What's my secret? People are asking Sebastien what he's done with me in the past year to get me to this point. In fact, he and I were at dinner last night talking about the very same thing. And I don't know if I can necessarily put it into words. But I'll try...

Sebastien is 'a good person.' And by 'good' I mean that in addition to being a very skilled trainer who knows his 'stuff' about how to help me transform my body, he has a soul and a spirit that are inherently good. He has unconditionally run, walked, and stood by my side over the past year, and helped me find that place in myself where self-determination, focus, and hard work come together to give me amazing results. He has never once judged me for who I was, or what I couldn't do. In many ways, he role modelled for me how to accept and embrace, unconditionally, the person I was and the person I am in the process of becoming. As I wrote in my first blog, in the words of the choreographer Li'l C: "It's difficult to locate the avenue of gain when you're being chauffeured by loss." Sebastien, in his 'goodness' has helped me overcome "being chaufeured by loss." He's helped me find "the avenue of gain." And there's no real technique to that. I don't think they teach that in "personal trainer school." It's not taught in a textbook anywhere. My results are, in a large part, the product of the serendipity that brought Sebastien and I together in what started as a working relationship and has quickly become a friendship. My consistency in this journey is the result of him being someone to whom I am accountable on a weekly basis. My success, is the outcome of my determination to take control of my life and his unshakeable commitment to helping me to do so. And it's also the result of a lot of hard freakin' work.

Many people ask me what I've done. What's 'my secret'??? So here's a rundown of things I've done to get these results. This is what has worked for me. This is what Sebastien and I have learned, over time, with trial and error, what will give me the success that I've searched for for many years. This is a realistic look at what it really takes to lose nearly 150 pounds in a year and a half... without supplements. Without surgery. Without gimmicks.

This is my secret...

I eat really well. I use the basic principles of nutrition as I learned through Canad's Food Guide. I eat generous portions of nutrient-rich fruits and vegetables. I start every day with a breakfast full of whole-grains, fiber, and protein. I eat well-balanced meals. I eat lean proteins and healthy fats. And quite simply, I make sure I eat.

I eat decadent things in moderation. I deprive myself of nothing, but don't over-indulge or gorge on anything. One night a week, I eat whatever I want for dinner (it's most often an extra spicy veal sandwich with extra cheese). I treat myself to a creamy, sweet coffee on a Saturday morning. I've learned that deprivation feeds the desire to gorge and binge on crap. So I allow myself the time to eat crap. Crap, my friends, is sometimes good.

I gave up pop. I drink at minimum, 3 liters of water per day. Sometimes I drink up to 5 liters. I end each day with a cup of green tea. So yes, I pee a lot. But my body is well hydrated and healthy. And that's key when you exercise at my pace and intensity.

I lift weights three days per week. On those days, I do a combination of circuited resistance training (weights) using periodization, and some heart-pumping cardio activity. The workouts on these three days take me about 2 hours. Yes, 2 hours. That's a lot of time, but it's what I need to do. That's how I burn a minimum of 1200 calories in a workout. Sometimes I burn up to 2200. The general rule I follow is I workout at full intensity, elevate my heart rate up and keep my body moving even between sets of strength work. Building muscle strength and power helps keep my metabolism burning like a furnace.

I do intense cardio work three days per week. Intense = at minimum one hour of a combination of elliptical work, jogging, or time on the stationary bike. On the elliptical, I crank out 20 minutes at level 14. On the treadmill, I run at 6.0 km/hour at minimum. On the bike, I ride at level 13 at minimum. That's what keeps my heart pumping. That my friends, is what burns fat.

One day a week, I do yoga. I do a 30 minute routine on the Biggest Loser Yoga DVD in the privacy of my living room. I grunt. I curse. I sweat. I stretch. I bend. I grow stronger. Yoga, is good.

So there's my secret. I've got...

Someone who keeps me motivated (my trainer).
A well-balanced diet high in fibre, lean protein, and loaded with fruits and veggies.
A well-designed exercise routine that combines cardio and weight training.
Lots of opportunity to relax.
And also just as important: I talk about it. A lot. I blog, I write, I read, I talk. I share my experience as a way to make meaning of and better understand what I'm going through. And in an unexpected way, it has helped others to do the same.

So, when I think about it, what I'm doing isn't really much of a secret. It's all of the things that I've known for a long time, matched with the dedication and belief that I can actually do it. And I will admit, that was the most difficult part of it all. But, it's also the most incredibly rewarding part of it. There are days when I still well up with tears out of pride, elation and happiness knowing that I not only gave myself the chance to succeed, but that I actually believed that I could do so.

I think that's my true secret. I hope you find yours.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Crying into my quinoa

2009-06-02T18:05:00.001-07:00

About two and a half months ago, I met my friend Liza for lunch downtown. We were sitting in a very packed Fresh Vegetarian Restaurant on Bloor Street, having a very healthy lunch. Liza knew that I had been in a bit of a funk then, and we decided to connect to chat. Of course, we spent time talking about all of this work I'm doing, and how at that point, and still to some degree now, I'm feeling a bit sad about it all. Even though I'm experiencing tremendous success, I was feeling sad and a bit dejected at times. I was really struggling with some of the guilt that I was feeling about not being as present in my relationships with friends and family because I was spending so much time at the gym. I was feeling really lost because everything I once knew was no longer certain -- the places from which I drew my sense of self (namely my career and my schoolwork) were no longer fulfilling me in the ways they once did. I was becoming a new person with newly found confidence, but feeling like I didn't have anything keeping me anchored. I was even feeling extremely guilty about not spending as much time with my dog as I should -- because I was spending so much time working out and working on 'me'.

And before I knew it, I was crying into my quinoa. Literally.

There I was, sitting in a packed restaurant in the middle of the day, crying because I was feeling so sad and so lost. Now Liza is an incredibly supportive friend, and she allowed me to be in that moment with my emotion. I felt like I had lost control of myself. I mean, I was sitting in a public place, bawling my eyes out feeling like I couldn't stop. And it didn't stop there.

In subsequent conversations with close friends, I also got very emotional as I spoke with them about the change I was going through. Every time I trained with Sebastien, I was happy to be there, but truly, I felt sad and kind of 'meh'. I didn't really talk to anyone in my family about how I was feeling, because I just don't go into that emotional terrain with them. But I sensed that even they knew how I was feeling. I would sometimes even cry in the car on the way to work -- in an odd experience where I was crying tears of joy because of how much progress I was making, but also tears of sadness because I wasn't feeling incredibly great. For someone who doesn't do 'emotion' very often, I am sure you can imagine how unsettling all of this spontaneous emotion was becoming.

My friend Tony put it quite succinctly by saying that my body could no longer hold onto the emotion it once did. I truly believe that the body holds emotion, and when you've spent most of your life eating through pain and sadness, you create more and more physical space for your body to hang onto the emotions. And the more your body hangs onto the feelings, the less you truly experience them. Now, I've lost over 140 pounds of body weight, and really, there are not many places for emotion to go. I don't eat to deal with eat. I exercise to address it to a degree, but I still have to let it out. And as much as I felt awkward about getting emotional when I least suspected it, I realized that I needed to simply let out what I was feeling, be it happiness, sadness, excitement, anxiety or whatever. I have to get used to truly saying how I feel as opposed to saying that everything is 'alright' and quietly finding a way to suppress all that emotion.

Furthermore, I was mourning. My body was mourning the physical being it used to be, and my soul was mourning the person who I once thought I was. This is not just a physical journey -- dealing with what's in my head is a huge part of the battle. And I have had to spend time getting to know and understand the new 'me'. That is, I have been trying to think realistically abotu who I am in this world, and how I take up a different space. Not only do I take up less physical space, as evidenced by the fact that my body physics is a bit out of whack, and I find myself bumping into things a lot, but also I take up a different emotional space. I no longer rely upon my professional and academic identity to define who I am. And not relying on my profesional identity isn't necessarily a bad thing, because things at work feel a little unstable anyway. However, I still don't really know what defines me. And for a person like me, who is a bit of a typical 'Type A' with self-acknowledged control issues (I don't like dealing with uncertainty), this is unsettling. And that feeling of uncertainty has the potential to throw me off balance.

Interestingly enough, every day in my work, I find myself speaking with students or other people in difficulty who experience a lot of emotional instability. My most frequent recommendation of course, is that they consider speaking with a professional counsellor or a psychologist. Now, I've seen counsellors before, but have never found them able to 'keep up with me'. I'm very self-aware and tend to intellectualize everything. As such, in order for me to fully understand myself I need to work with someone who can challenge my thinking in many ways. And I hadn't met a counsellor who was able to do it. But Liza strongly suggested that I consider seeing a professional. She got me a referral from a friend of hers, and after struggling with the decision to seek some professional help, a few weeks ago I met with a psychologist.

This was scary stuff. Not as scary as making that first call to Sebastien a year ago, or taking those first steps up the stairs at the gym for my first workout. That was almost debilitating. But in the week when I celebrated a full year since I made one of my life's most important decisions (the week when I first met Seb and started training with him), I decided to take that next scary step and meet someone else who could help me.

In my first session with Dr. R. (I haven't asked his permission to use his name here, so he's Dr. R. for now), I talked about pretty much everything I have been thinking or feeling over the course of the past year. And it wasn't easy. I was in tears withing the first five minutes, and had many a moment throughout our 90-minute session where my feelings were overwhelming. After a lot of talking and some initial analysis, Dr. R. came to a conclusion:

I have clinical depression.

Now, it's a fairly mild depression, but it has come on in the past 6-8 weeks as I struggle to navigate my sense of self and my changing relationships with friends and family. And as I am also prone to anxiety, with a predisposition to not liking uncertainty and lack of control, the fact that so much within and around me is changing so rapidly, is fuelling this depression. Even with all of the working out I do (which is tremendously helpful in dealing with depression), I still experience the emotion and sadness that accompanies this condition. I'm still learning a lot about both my depression and anxiety, but have already begun, as a result of working with Dr. R. to feel relieved and reassured that this sadness will eventually subside. Through regular therapy sessions (no medication), I'm learning how to better understand my feelings, appreciate how my feelings shape my thinking, and change the ways in which I allow my thinking to influence my behaviour. Using a technique called cognitive behavioural therapy, Dr. R. is helping me to connect many of the dots that I already knew were there -- again having a strong degree of self-awareness, I was conscious of many different dimensions of what I was expeirencing, but didn't truly 'get' how they all worked with or against one another to result in how I was feeling.

All that said, I not only continue to be a physical work in progress, but also an emotional work in progress. Sebastien keeps reminding me that 'this is big work' -- not just physically. And he has always tried to keep the fact that learning to be the new 'me' is something that I was going to have to deal with. And I finally am. And it feels really really good to do it.

So there you have it. A few months ago, I was crying into my quinoa, and now I'm beginning to understand why. It's not easy to do, and cognitive behavioural therapy is tough work. But I've managed to lose over 140 pounds... I think I can handle the brain work that's needed to help me lose what's left.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Next blog: "33 pairs of pants later..." Stay tuned...

PS. 'Quinoa' is an amazing superfood. Learn more here.

PPS. Thanks to my friend Patsy for helping me laugh through the title of this blog.

Sometimes you just need a break...

2009-05-24T08:46:00.000-07:00

Last week, Sebastien went on vacation. A while back, when we had missed a session, I realized that when I miss a training session, I tend to have a pretty crappy week. So, anticipating this week away, Seb arranged for me to train with another trainer at the gym -- John. Last Wednesday, John put me through my regular leg routine, and helped me to fine-tune my technique on a few resistance exercises that resulted in me having the most extreme leg workout I've had in a long time. For the two days that followed, my quads and my glutes were very tight, and I walked around like some old geezer who had just soiled himself. Needless to say, I didn't stretch as much as I should have following my session with John, and I paid for it. So, for those two days, I decided to not go to the gym. I take Thursdays off already, and I am scheduled to do a full body resistance session plus some cardio on a Friday -- and Friday was the worst day for muscle pain. So I decided to take a break.

And it seems like a break is exactly what I need.

This past week officially marks one year since I started training regularly with Sebastien. Yes, I've accomplished a tremendous amount, but that has not happened without sacrifice, and an incredible amount of focus. But after going full throttle for so long, it's really easy to get burnt out. And I think that's exactly how I've been feeling for the past week or so. Those two days when I didn't train because my legs were too tight and I needed to let my muscles rest helped me to realize that it's not just my muscles that need a break.

All of me does.

So, I've spent the past few days relaxing and enjoying the weekend. I've been out for dinner with friends, and I haven't been a regimented as I normally am when it comes to what I've eaten. People who follow me on Twitter or Facebook will note that I've not posted my status in the last few days with specific references to my workouts and calorie burns. It's because I've taken the time to sit on a patio and enjoy a great burger and sip a refreshing beer; dine on some veal parmagiana, and celebrate with a slice of coconut cream pie that made me tremble with delight. Sure, I've had a number of other balanced meals, have gone for long strolls with the dog (not walks, leisurely strolls) and sat on patios drinking coffee and chatting with friends. I went to the movies and munched on a bag of peanut M&Ms. I washed my car. I cleaned out my trunk. I'm going to help a friend landscape his front yard this afternoon. Hell, I read the newspaper for the first time in ages.

And I slept. My body needed rest and some time to heal. And so does my brain.

Doing this much work on myself in the past year has not only take physical endurance to crank out the series of workouts Sebastien has given me, but it has also taken an intense level of focus and in some ways, emotional fortitude to keep myself in line. Battling the bulge and the demons that come along with it is no easy task. I've written a lot about that in this blog over the past year. And sometimes all that work takes its toll. For me, it's taken its toll and I'm pooped.

So, this is the first weekend in a year when I haven't spent any time in the gym. In fact, today marks the fourth day in a row when I haven't cranked out a 1200-2000 calorie workout. And how do I feel about it? Not bad at all. I can't say that I'm totally thrilled with the fact that I've skipped four days of my workout. But what I can say is that the time away from it all has been good. I'm not completely rested and totally refreshed yet, and yes, I'll be back at the gym tomorrow evening after work. But these few days away from my regimen to live life without worrying about how many calories I'm burning, or how many calories I'm consuming has been a welcome change of pace, if only for a few days. I have no worries about getting back on the wagon -- in fact, I'm really looking forward to my workout tomorrow night, my kickboxing class on Tuesday night, and my training session with Seb on Wednesday night when I can show him my progress on my squats and my power cleans. I'm also looking forward to being totally okay with the fact that I haven't dropped any weight in the past week. In fact, I won't be totally surprised if, on Wednesday when I weigh in, that I've gained a few pounds. That's life. That's living. I made a conscious choice to indulge on beer, M&Ms, and coconut cream pie. And I enjoyed every last bit of it. I also made a conscious choice to accept the outcomes of a number of days of inactivity and indulgence. What made the choice easy is that I know I have the tools... hell, it's more like ammunition... in my pocket to get back in gear and keep on truckin.

But the break has been nice. Really really nice.

So when all is said and done, I've learned to not be afraid to fall off the wagon. Hell, I've learned how to stop the wagon, put it in park, and simply enjoy some things that I was missing. I learned that I was really missing spending time with friends drinking rich coffee (with cream and sugar) and catching up over a piece of coconut cream pie. Yes, I spend time with my friends doing other things, and my friendships are less defined by the context of dining out, and more by finding ways to spend meaningful time with one another. But every once in a while, I know I will indulge a little more than I normally do. I'll have a few more drinks. I'll eat a bit more than usual. I'll make choices that I used to consider 'bad' but now I consider necessary to maintain a level of healthy balance and perspective on all of this.

And nothing helps with perpsective quite like a piece of coconut cream pie from Teddy's Diner in Oshawa. It's worth it.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Once Born or Twice Born?

2009-05-19T11:24:00.000-07:00

When I lived in BC from 1999-2002, I met a wonderful friend through work. Liisa worked at another university, and I knew from the moment I met her that there was something very special about her. She has such an incredible spirit, and offers an extraordinary energy to those around her, that I feel lucky to now call her a friend, even though we connect only through virtual means. We have reconnected via Facebook, and as a reader of this blog, she is a wonderful support to me in my transformation. Having the support of wonderful friends who read my story is such a powerful and important part of this experience for me -- so much so that I really want to make sure what I'm putting out here is meaningful, and thought provoking, and dare I say, even a bit inspiring for me and you both! But I've been struggling a bit in the past week with what to write about. I've got lots of 'noise' going on in my head these days, and I don't have much clarity about things. So, I began to wonder what I should post on my blog. And then I came upon this note on Liisa's Facebook profile. Today, she offered a piece from a book she is reading that I wanted to share with you. It's from a book called Broken Open: How Difficult Times Can Help Us Grow by Elizabeth Lesser. This passage makes a lot of sense to me. And in some ways, it captures, much more eloquently, just a fraction of the 'noise' that I've got going on inside. So, I offer it to my readers with the hope that it resonates or illuminates something within you. Thanks for sharing it with me, Liisa.

Kia Kaha.
Stay strong.

There are two kinds of people in this world- the Once-Born and the Twice-Born. Once-Born people do not stray from the familiar territory of who they think they are and what they think is expected of them. If fate pushes them to the edge of Dante’s famous dark woods – where the straight way is lost – they turn back. They don’t want to learn something new from life’s darkest lessons. They stay with what seems safe and what is acceptable to their family and society. They stick to what they already know but don’t necessarily want. Once-born people may go through life and never even know what lies beyond the woods or that there are woods at all.

Perhaps a Once-born person awakens one morning and feels the beckoning finger of fate loosening disturbing questions “is this all there is to life? will I always fill the same? do I not have some purpose to fulfill, some greater kindness to give, some inner freedom to taste?” And then he gets out of bed and dresses for work and he doesn’t attend to the soul’s questions. The next morning and all the next mornings he lives as if the soul was a figment of a flighty imagination. This inattention makes him confused, or numb, or sad or angry.

A Twice-Born person pays attention when the soul pokes its head through the clouds of a half lived life. Whether through choice or calamity, the Twice-Born person goes into the woods, looses the straight way, makes mistakes, suffers loss, and confronts that which needs to change within himself in order to live a more genuine and radiant life.

But let’s be careful here, sweeping distinctions like Once-Born and Twice-Born are often misleading. They can make you feel like a failure if you perceive yourself as a stuck in the mud Once-Born or they can inflate the ego if you fancy yourself a white knight swashbuckling your way through the boring landscape of everyday life. They journey into the woods of change and transformation is an inner one. The outer story line need not be a soap opera since the real drama is being carried out in the heart of the traveller. The most ordinary looking lives are often being lived by the most extraordinary spiritual warriors - People who have chosen the road less taken, the road of self reflection. Twice-Born people use the difficult changes in their outer lives to make the harder changes within. While Once-Born people avoid or deny or bitterly accept the unpredictable changes of real life, Twice-Born people use adversity for awakening. Betrayal, illness, divorce, the demise of a dream, the loss of a job, the death of a loved one- all of these can function can function as initiation into inner life.

The journey from Once-Born to Twice-Born brings us to a crossroads where the old ways of doing things are no longer working but a better way lies somewhere at the far edge of the woods. We are afraid to step into those woods, but even more afraid to step back. To turn back is one kind of death, to go forward is another. The first kind of death ends in ashes, the second leads towards rebirth. For some of us, the day arrives when we step willingly into the woods. A longing to wake up, to feel more alive, to feel something spurs us beyond our fear. Some of us resist like hell until the forces of fate deliver a crisis. Some of us get sick and tired of filling an inner emptiness with drugs or drink or food and we turn and face our real hunger, our soul hunger.

Twice-Born people trade the safety of the known for the power of the unknown. Something calls them into the woods where the straight path vanishes and there is no turning back, only going through. This is not easy. It is not an made up fairy tale. It is very real and very difficult. To face our shadow – the dragons and hags that we have spent a lifetime running away from – is perhaps the most difficult journey we will take, but it is there, in the shadows, that we retrieve our hidden parts, learn our lessons, and give birth to the wise and mature self. From my personal experience, and from the work I have done with the men and women in my workshops, I know that the difficulty of the dark journey is matched only by its rewards. I also know that every single person in this whole wide world is offered, over and over, the chance to take the voyage from Once-Born innocence to Twice-Born wisdom.

Energy Bar Recipe

2009-05-09T18:12:00.000-07:00

There are a lot of pre-packaged energy bars out there. Many of them are loaded with chemicals, fat, and refined sugar. For the high-performance athlete, these ingredients may be easily processed, but for those of us who are really trying to watch what we're eating, these bars can be worse for you than a lot of the things on fast-food restaurant menus. So I surfed the internet for various recipes, and didn't really find one I liked. That said, I took the best features of many and came up with this. I tested them with the staff at my gym, and everyone who I spoke to seemed to like them. Well, I like them, so I guess that's all that matters. So, if you're so inclined, try this one out. (Nutritional info at the end of the recipe).

Ingredients

Cooking spray
2 cups instant rolled oats
1 cup raw unsalted sunflower seeds
1 cup raw hulled pumpkin seeds
1 cup toasted wheat germ
1/2 cup whole-wheat flour
1 cup dried apricots
1 cup raw almonds
1 cup dried cranberries
1 cup pitted dried dates
1 cup powdered nonfat instant milk
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
2/3 cup pure maple syrup (or unsweetened apple sauce)
4 large eggs

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper, and lightly spray the paper with the cooking spray.

Process all of the ingredients except the flour, milk powder, cinnamon, syrup and eggs in the food processor. Be sure to pulse it so that everything gets well chopped, and is nicely mixed. Try to make sure there are no big chunks in the mixture. Then add the flour, milk powder, and cinnamon, and pulse the mixture until well blended. Finally, gently whip the eggs in a cup, and add them along with the syrup to the mixture until it is well combined. It should resemble really thick sand -- very granular. Depending on the size of your food processor, you may need to split the recipe into two batches, mixing each thoroughly and then taking a few minutes to combine them in a bowl with a good strong wooden spoon and some elbow grease.

Pour out the mixture to the cookie sheet, and press it evenly into the pan. Lightly wet your hands, and press it into the corners, etc. Bake the bars in the oven for about 20 minutes. Upon removing the tray, leave it to cool for a few minutes, and then transfer the slab of bars by lifting the parchment paper onto a cooling rack. Let them cool for about an hour before cutting into approximately 30 bars. They can be individually wrapped, or stored in an air-tight container. Either way, keep them in the fridge, and and they'll be nice and chewy when you need them!

If you want to increase the amount of protein, you could substitute the milk powder with the equivalent amount of protein powder. Just remember that doing so will up increase the calories significantly, and will also likely add some sugar to the mix. In order to add more protein, I smeared one of my bars with a tablespoon or so of natural peanut butter.

Nutritional Data (per serving, approximately 50 grams)

Calories 190
Total fat 7 g
Saturated fat 1 g
Trans fat 0 g
Cholesterol 13 mg
Sodium 21 mg
Carbohydrates 28 g
Dietary Fiber 4 g
Sugars 14 g
Protein 7 g

From the early morning calm emerges a loud voice...

2009-05-09T06:35:00.000-07:00

There's something very calming about the early morning. And I've only grown to realize this in the past year or so. Growing up, I was a nightmare to be around first thing in the morning. I loved my sleep. During my university years, it got worse, and I recall my bed in residence at the University of Waterloo as being among the most comfortable I've ever slept in... which is astonishing considering it was a twin-sized foam mattress, and I certainly wasn't a twin-sized guy back then!

Part of why I think I loved sleeping so much (and don't get me wrong, I still enjoy a mid-afternoon disco-nap) is because I didn't have much energy. I would go to school, do my work, eat, hang out, and sleep. A long life of inactivity led to a lot of time in bed. And as time rolls on, trying to drag your butt out of "the scratcher" (as my Dad calls it) first thing in the morning becomes more and more difficult.

Well, since I've started exercising, I find I have much better quality sleep and oddly enough find getting out of bed much easier every day. And this morning, it occurred to me as to why getting up early is such a wonderful thing.

Each day, I wake up somewhere between 6 and 6:30am to the same sound -- it's my dog Rosie (an Airedale Terrier), shaking her head and making noise with her collar to let me know that she has to go outside for a pee. Ironically, I normally have to do the same -- not outside, though. So, I get up, open the back door, trudge into the loo, do my business and bring Rosie back inside. In the winter, when it's still pitch-black dark outside, it's still really easy to bring her in and crawl right back into my bed for a bit more sleep. But as spring is now upon us, the birds are chirping, and the sun starts to shine earlier and stronger each day, I notice how much more energy even Rosie has as she bounds out the door to chase the squirrels who torment her from the roof of the neighbour's garage, or to sniff around the backyard in search of something new and exciting to dig up.

There's something special about her energy. So this morning, like many others, I let her play outside while I put on some gear, grabbed my baseball hat, a toonie for coffee, and her leash to head outside for an early morning stroll. The fact that the weather forecast was calling for thunderstorms and rain all morning was great motivation, because an un-walked dog makes for a bit of a disaster inside the house later in the day. I had to take advantate of the opportunity to get her out for some exercise while I could.

We headed out the door, me still a little groggy from my sleep, but Rosie prancing along like the little princess that she is. She has an amazing spring in her step, and as she sniffs around, stretches to the sun, and leaps along beside me, I realize that it's not just the weather but also the excitement of being outside that gives her this much pep.

In one of his early blogposts, my trainer Sebastien called walking the dog a bit of a spiritual experience. And it really is. While I live in the heart of the country's largest city, there's not a lot of noise at 7am. The only thing I heard as we walked along Queen Street this morning was the sound of Rosie's collar jingling, and the occasional whir of a passing streetcar. People who passed by us were friendly. Dogs who trotted by stopped for a sniff. There was something fresh in the air as the sun peeked through the clouds and those sounds of early morning that you read of in poetry and in stories really did fill the air.

We made our way along Queen Street, and eventually arrived at one of my favourite early morning destinations: Red Rocket Coffee Shop. They have great coffee, an amazing sun deck that is dog-friendly, and free wireless!!! I love spending time sitting outside on a warm sunny morning with a coffee in my hand, the morning paper on the table and a very content terrier by my side. Everyone there is friendly. There's no pretense like some of the larger chain coffee shops, and many people (most of whom live in the neighbourhood) pop over to say hello, pet Rosie, and talk about the weather (we're in Canada, it's what we talk about). Rosie's veterinarian, Dr. Clifford Mardinger is often there, where in fact, he also has some of his artwork on display. There's just something very calming, warm, and welcoming to enjoying a good coffee and a bit of sun at that time of day -- especially amid the hustle of what is normally a very busy city.

So, all that sun and calm considered, walking the dog each morning brings with it tremendous opportunities to think, to reflect, to contemplate. There are no interruptions, very few distractions.... just me, my dog, and whatever is on my mind. Indeed, it is a spiritual experience. It's a time when I have the uninterrupted opportunity to be fully inside my head and think about anything and everything. And this morning, I thought a lot about privilege.

I thought about all of the things that I have accomplished in the past year. I've lost a lot of weight. I've lost a lot of inches. And in some ways, I've lost a part of who I am. And yes, I have found that to be very unsettling. A few weeks ago, I talked about having a lot of balls in the air, and how this life-changing transformation has caused me to question so much about who I am and where I stand in the world. And no, my walk with the dog this morning didn't provide any epiphanous answers. But it did clarify for me just how lucky I am to be in a place in my life and in the world where I can even ask these questions of myself.

Inevitably, we all struggle with something in our lives. Deep down inside, beyond the veneer of calm and ease, we all have something that eats away at who we are. And it's completely okay that some of us choose to ignore it. Some of us choose to acknowledge it. Some of us choose to do something about it, and even blog about it in a very public domain. But choosing to do something isn't always as easy as it seems. Many people I've encountered in the health and fitness profession talk a lot about simply making a choice to take action -- that tackling weight loss is about putting one foot in front of the other, moving your butt, and eating right. I don't discount that philosophy one bit. It's what has worked for me. But I also realize what a privileged philosophy that is. It takes a hell of a lot for a morbidly obese, gay man in his mid-thirties who feels like an outsider to make that choice. I sometimes have to call out Sebastien during our sessions where he doesn't fully realize what it's like to move through the world as a fat man. Yes, I'm sure he's had his own battles to fight, but in terms of physical health and fitness, the world is a much easier and friendlier place to a good-looking straight guy, who is athletic and can do pretty much anything he puts his mind to. And I don't begrudge him that. However, one of the issues I have with the fitness industry is that it lacks empathy in a lot of ways. It lacks a complete understanding of how multi-dimensional this battle is for so many people, and that it's not as easy as simply waking up one morning to take action and change your life. Quite simply, it's not easy at all.

I think that in marketing health and fitness as 'easy', or as something that can be accomplished by taking just a few pills, or sweating for 15 minutes a day to a video, is highly irresponsible. In another of his blogs, and in his response to my comments, Sebastien used the line, "All is fair in diet and exercise." This opinion or way of thinking still troubles me to the core. Yes, we live in a capitalist society, and yes, the fitness industry is guided by the power of the almighty dollar. But the fact that the health and wellbeing (physical and emotional) of the people who need the help most from the industry that is the most well-resourced to provide it, is secondary to the drive to make a profit, is fundamentally disturbing to me. It angers me. I have yet to encounter any piece of marketing that tells the truth about how unbelievably difficult this journey really is -- about how it takes an unimaginable amount of self-determination and faith to succeed, that no video or pill can ever provide. No program I have ever participated in, or seen promotions for, have ever been able to address the tremendous psychological transformation and paradigm shift that in some ways is so completely necessary to nurture and support the physical transformation to which so many people aspire. The closest I have come to the 'truth' in this transformation is Bob Harper's work -- he's one of the trainers from TV's The Biggest Loser. His book is a great read, but unfortunately a lot of his messaging gets lost at the hands of clever television editing and programmatic marketing of the Biggest Loser brand.

This work also takes a lot of sacrifice. Many people over the past few months have asked me how I've managed to accomplish so much -- how I managed to achieve a goal four months ahead of schedule. I acknowledge that I'm in the privileged position to be able to make my fitness and my health my absolute number one priority. Yes, I'm a busy guy. I've got a demanding job, but I also work with people and in an environment that is so completely supportive of what I'm doing. I working on a PhD, but I can afford to take a break from my studies to focus on my health. I've got a dog, who enjoys the attention that comes with a long early morning walk in the sun My obligations are also opportunities. But beyond that, I don't have a lot of other commitments in my life. I don't have a mortgage to worry about (I'm an eternal renter!). I don't have kids or a spouse to make time for. I can choose to be quite self-indulgent and selfish at this point in my life, and make this journey and this process simply all about me. And I never want to lose sight of that reality. I want to make sure that, amid all of the success I've had and will continue to experience, that I never forget the fact that I am in a position where external obligations are minimal, and that I can choose to focus exclusively on me. Do I feel guilty about that? A bit. But it is what it is. I don't mind taking advantage of this privilege I have, as long as I continue to acknowledge that it's there, and that it's not somethat that everyone has.

So, as I walked throughout my neighbourhood this morning, and thought more about this idea of how narrow-minded the fitness industry can be, and about how privileged I have been to have the emotional, intellectual, physical, and financial ('cause this hasn't been cheap, folks!) resources to make this change, I began to have a bit of a moment of clarity. Maybe one of the things that can emerge from the multi-dimensional chaos that accompanies my transformation is some sort of advocacy in the fitness industry that helps people understand that reality to all of these success stories -- that it's more than just a glossy photo in a magazine, or clever editing on weight-loss show on TV. With my privilege comes a level of responsiblity. A responsibility to let everyone know that there is a very real, very complex, very important story to tell here. And there's tremendous power in that story. Power that I think has the potential to truly help transform some of the ways people think about and interface with this confusing industry. Unfortunately, at this point in time the voice of that story is either silent or tragically under-represented in the multi-million dollar fitness industry.

Hmm... maybe my voice is loud enough. I think I've got an interesting story to tell. More to think about. What do you think???

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Two words.

2009-05-06T17:24:00.000-07:00

So, it didn't happen last week. But it happened tonight.

I set a goal for September 18, and when Sebastien weighed me for the first time tonight , I hit it right on the nose.

Talk about precision. How very 'Virgo' of me!

He then had me step on the scale for a second time, so that I could get a copy of the printout for myself. And on the second weigh in, I passed the goal by almost another pound.

I'll take either one.

So how do I feel?

Fan-freakin'-tastic!!!

And so I should. I worked my ass off to get to this place. And even though I've arrived at this amazing milestone -- I haven't weighed this much since my second year of university (1993... that's 15 years ago) -- I've got so much more ahead of me. But I'm not going to worry too much about that right now. I'm going to bask in the glow of my accomplishment. I'm going to savour the feelings of pride, satisfaction, and elation. Almost a year to the day that I first met Sebastien for my consultation, I've shattered my own expectations. I'm pretty sure I blew his out of the water too.

So here's the progress I've made.

I've lost 137 pounds since I weighed my heaviest (January 07-ish)
I've lost 125 pounds since I made the choice to take control and get healthy (December 07)

Since the time that I started letting Sebastien weigh and measure me for progress, I've lost:

100 pounds of fat (since June 08)
51 inches of fat from my body (since October 08)
The feeling that I don't have control of my own life.

Since that same time, I've gained:

An unmeasured amount of muscle.
The admiration of my friends and people around me.
The ability to look at myself in the mirror and like what I see.
A renewed sense of pride and love for who I am in this crazy crazy world.

And to celebrate all I've accomplished, I'm gonna have a beer. And I want you to have one, too. One of the best things about all this hard work, is that I've never completely deprived myself of anything. One night a week (normally the night I train with Sebastien), I indulge. I eat pizza. Or, I have a burger (from Square Boy on Danforth... they deep fry the bacon!!! Grrrr....) I always give myself the opportunity and the permission to indulge, and enjoy the things I crave. Ironically, giving in for that one night a week makes me crave those bad things less and less.

So, tonight, I'm having a beer.
And it has never tasted sweeter.

And that's pretty much all I have to say right now. Words cannot describe how I feel.

Actually, they can. Two words do it. Plain and simple:

Kia kaha.

These words have never meant more to me than they do right now. Love and gratitude to my sister for giving me the gift of the knowledge and power of these two words.

Love and props to the folks at Riverdale Fitness who make me feel incredible and supported every time I walk through the door for my workouts 6 days a week.

Love and admiration to friends, family, co-workers, and random blog readers for support and encouragement.

Love and respect to Sebastien for helping me to find the immeasurable strength and determination to conquer my greatest challenge, face my biggest fear, and be my best possible self.

That said, I'm gonna go enjoy my beer.

Stay strong, dear friends. Stay strong.

PS. Added on May 7 -- the beer might have been a bit stale, as it has been in my fridge for almost a year. LOL! But the fried chicken (NOT KFC) I had afterwards more than made up for it.... Back to the grind!!!

PPS. Some of you have asked what Seb thinks about my blog. He started his own a while back, and click here for his thoughts on me hitting my goal.

GooooooaaaaaaaaLLLLLL!!!!!

2009-05-02T06:12:00.001-07:00

That's supposed to be my interpretation of how to spell "goal" when the commentator yells it out at a soccer game. Why do I have soccer on the brain??? Just got a Twitter update (I'm @phd2011into) from my Uncle Marty in Pennsylvania this morning -- apparently he's up early watching soccer. Or football. Or basketball. What sport does Man United play??? Ladies' Over 60 Bocce Ball??? Yeah, that's it. LOL!

Anyhoo, reading a quick soccer update got me thinking more about goals. This whole journey for me has been characterized by many of them. I started working with Sebastien almost a year ago (it's our manniversary in just a few weeks, May 19, LOL!!!) and had some very unquantifiable things in mind. I remember telling him things like: "I want to feel better about myself. I want to be able to walk up a flight of stairs without gasping for breath. I want to hop on a bike and go for a ride." I also had many other things running around in my head as goals which would be markers of achievement (see the Egg-zaw-sted entry) I had these behavioural goals in mind which, if I achieved them, would be tremendous markers of my progress and success. Now many people who venture down the path of better health and weight loss set a series of actual numerical goals: the weight, measurements, etc. that will be clear indicators of success. And for the first six months that Seb and I worked together, I wouldn't talk numbers. I wouldn't do measurements. I would barely let him take my weight. I was afraid of the quantifiable.

Allow me to revert into my inner-geek PhD mode for a moment here. When I do research, I don't have much time for quantiative data. I don't like numbers. Numbers, although certain and in some ways undisputable, don't take into account individual experience, context, and circumstance to explain how numbers are derived. For example, if a researcher were to conclude that, in a group of 20 people, that an average of 3 hours per day of exercise over the course of a two-week period will yield an average weight loss of five pounds per week, it is difficult to argue the certainty of that data. The way my brain works is such that I intuitively question the circumstances surrounding the experiences of the 20 people being studied -- what's going on in their lives? what are the barriers that inhibit their ability to exercise for 3 hours a day? what are the ways in which they understand themselves as being 'unhealthy'? -- and how do those questions and factors impact the overall outcome of 5 pounds per week of weight loss. It's the social scientist in me, and has always caused me to question, unequivocally, the absolutist claims of pure and modern science. I digress.

All that said, given how I've been trained academically, and how my mind tends to work, it is completely natural to understand my apprehension towards being measured in any way whatsoever. I am also averse to measurement because I'm not only afraid of what the numbers say, I'm also naturally afraid of what they mean, and the judgement that often accompanies that meaning. So, submitting once a week to my assessment, where Seb measures my weight, body measurements, and strength measurements, is a pretty daunting experience. And even though I continue to make phenomenal progress, once a month, I get extremely anxious about this whole experience

Why?

I have incredibly high expectations of myself. So much so that I project those expectations unto others. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing, because I think it challenges those people around me to rise and perform to a standard that they may not have otherwise set for themselves. But, it can also be really problematic. Take this past week's assessment for example.

In the days and nights coming into my training session on Wednesday, I was having difficulty focusing, relaxing, and sleeping. Why? Because this past week was the day when I could have shattered one of my most significant numerical goals thus far. In January, Seb and I sat down to discuss some short- and long-term weight loss goals. As a short-term goal, I wanted to lose 20 pounds before the end of March. Seb thought that this was a lot, given the average of 1-2 pounds per week being reasonable for weight loss. So we compromised, and decided that a range of 15-20 pounds in three months would be good. At the same time, I declared that I wanted to have lost 60 pounds before my 36th birthday (September 18, mark your calendars, please... LOL!). Again, 60 pounds seemed like a lot in 9 months so we agreed to a range of 50-60 pounds. All good. Full steam ahead.

On February 18, I hit my 20-pound goal. Not after 3 months, but after a month and a half. And last Wednesday was the first moment when my 60-pound goal was within reach. I had 5 pounds to lose and I would have hit it. And for the first time since 1993, my weight would have begun with a number that didn't make me sad or sick to my stomach (that number is a '2' by the way). 5 pounds in one week is a lot. But I've done it before.

What's interesting about this is that I didn't necessarily put an extraordinary amount of extra pressure to work extra hard to achieve that 5-pound goal on my shoulders. Instead, I daydreamd, sat awake at night, and otherwised obsessed about finally seeing that '2' on the scale. I even began to envision what that moment would look like. How would it feel? How would I react? Would I really be as happy as I think I would be???

On Tuesday night, I stepped onto my own scales at home and realized that I wouldn't hit the goal the next day. At first I was really bummed out. But then I sat back and realized that although I had set this one-week target for myself, I hadn't necessarily done an extraordinary amount of work to reach this extraordinary goal. So what was I expecting? Magic? Divine intervention? Too much of myself? There you have it. I expect too much of myself sometimes. And again, not always a bad thing, but when those expectations move me into a space of anxiety and self-questioning, the they become less of a goal and grow more counterproductive.

So, in spite of my original apprehension, I've come around to the fact that goals are a good thing. And even though I started off fearing the numbers and focusing more on the qualitative goals, I've now made a bit of a paradigm shift. I now understand how the numbers mean something. I enjoyed noting this past week at my assessment that I've lost over 50-inches of body fat since October 2008 (when I first let Seb come near me with a measuring tape)! And given that we had our first workout in May 2008, I know I've lost so much more. But what is now causing me a bit of fear and apprehension is beginning to address the 'other' goals. I now have to spend some good time (and some with the help of a psychologist), thinking through my goals around understanding what it's like to exist in the world as a 'new me'. Even though I get amazing reactions from people I meet (like the one I got last night from my friend Jennifer who I haven't seen in almost a year), I still can't wrap my head around the fact that the new me is something to fully celebrate and in some ways 'show off'. Don't get me wrong, I love flashing my legs at the gym -- they're fabulous, by the way. But moving from a place where my weight brought negative attention to me, to a place where my weight (even though it's weight loss) is bringing positive attention and energy to me, is still a struggle. I'll get there though. Maybe I'll make that a goal.

All that said, last Wednesday, I didn't hit the 60-pound goal. If I don't hit it this week, I'll hit it the next week for sure. And when I get there, it'll be freakin' fantastic. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. And yes, I'll celebrate. And I think Sebastien will have to take me out to BeerBistro for a celebratory meal (hint! hint!). But I'll also take a moment to remember that this is a process. It's a journey. Each goal is only an end unto itself, and an opportunity to set a new one. Because, as one of my heroes, Bob Harper (of Biggest Loser fame) said in his blog this week in response to Kirstie Alley's appearance on Oprah, where she revealed that she's gained back the 75 pounds she lost on Jenny Craig:

"There is NO FINISH LINE HERE!!!! That is the biggest and toughest pill to swallow when you embark on this new lifestyle of losing weight and getting healthy. I tell people that you are making a lifestyle change not changing things temporarily until you have reached your “goal”. And don't get me started about goals. This guy today on Oprah, Michael said that he wanted to get below 200lbs and when he reached 198lbs, he went out to celebrate by binging on hotdogs and french fries. So many people get so focused on the end result that as soon as they have practically killed themselves to get there, some number in their head, they have nothing else to motivate them and then all of a sudden the weight starts creeping back on.... So many people fall into this same trap so what I'm begging everyone that is reading this to do is look at is differently today.... You are getting healthy. You are getting back on track. You are taking charge of your life. You are making lifestyle changes and divorcing yourself from the bad habits that made you unhealthy and overweight and it is a DAY to DAY thought patternIt is something that we all have to look at forever and learn how to live and cope with it….and guess what??? It can be done. It is up to you to take charge and look at every day like a new day."

So, I leave you with that to consider. Treat every day like a new day. There is no finish line. And most importantly:

Kia Kaha.
Stay Strong.

Inspired....

2009-04-20T17:38:00.001-07:00

This is Troy. Troy was my supervisor when I was in grad school in Vermont in the late 90s. Over the course of two years, he became a fantastic friend, and someone who challenged me to think about my work in more complex and sophisticated ways. He helped to lay the groundwork for what I believe is a wonderful career in student affairs administration.

Today, Troy ran the Boston Marathon. He has had this dream for many many years, and today he ran the Boston Marathon in 3 hours and 50 minutes. Someone today asked me if that was a 'good' time. It's the freakin' Boston Marathon!!! Of course it's good! It's amazing!!!

So not only did Troy inspire me to be the professional I am today, but with him fulfilling this dream, he's inspired me to reach higher, work harder, run farther, and achieve more. Tonight, at the gym, I couldn't help but crank up the speed on the treadmill while I ran. I stopped over-thinking my power-cleans and am starting to feel great about them. I didn't think twice about putting 630 pounds on the leg press (that's 14 big plates), and powered out 3 sets of 15 reps (FYI: 630 pounds is just a little heavier than 2 20-cubic foot Maytag refrigerators). And as one member told me I was looking good, and as a trainer at the gym told me my workouts were looking great, I couldn't help but be happy. Proud. Inspired.

It's having people like Troy in my life that helps to keep me going on this journey. I'm surrounded by wonderful friends and family who are all very supportive of what I'm doing. But I do have to admit, that as of late, this has begun to feel like a very solitary journey. Yes, I've got lots of people cheering me on by the sidelines, but when it comes to actually getting to the gym, and cranking out my workouts, it's just me. And it has to be. But on days like today, I couldn't help but feel that as I was running on the treadmill at 9.0 miles an hour (I normally run at 7.5), that Troy was running with me. I felt the same way as I closely monitored his progress on the internet, and beamed with pride when his time came up on my computer monitor at the office. He fulfilled his dream, and I am well on my way to achieving my own.

So, while running the Boston Marathon isn't at the top of my list of things to do, having that feeling of elation, joy and accomplishment that I am sure comes with crossing the finish line is right up there. I've often fallen asleep at night wondering what it might feel like to run a race. A 5k. A 10k. Maybe even a half marathon.

So, as Sebastien tells me all the time, having goals is important, and saying them out loud is even more important. Because, then they become real. I said this one out loud to my friend Jonathan yesterday, and I'm saying out loud to you all today.

October 2010 -- I'm going to run the Toronto Half-marathon. That's 13 miles. It's more than a year away, but something I've always wanted to experience, and something I know I will. Because it's entirely possible. I didn't think that losing 30 pounds was ever going to happen, and today, I weigh the same as I did in 1993. And I've still got a ways to go. So, by October 2010, I should be ready to take the plunge, and run 13 miles through the streets of Toronto.

I also said this goal out loud to Troy the other day as I sent him words of encouragement for his big day. And in his true style, he was supportive, encouraging, and a true friend. He also offered to join me on the run. It will be the first time I will have seen him since I graduated in 1999. I'm already excited thinking about the possibility.

So, in October 2010, I'll have a Boston Marathon 'finisher' running by my side in realizing one of my own lifelong goals. Troy's going to join me. How about you???

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Make them eat crow....

2009-04-12T12:57:00.000-07:00

I don't know if you've ever had that moment in your life when you feel like the whole world is against you. The whispers, the eye rolls, the laughing and the pointing of complete strangers are all signs that you've got a battle to fight. And if you never experienced this, consider yourself extremely lucky. But as I've moved through the world all my life carrying extra weight (physical and emotional), I've always felt like I've had mountains to climb -- bigger, higher and steeper than most people, just to prove that I'm 'worth it'. It's a tough haul, and I don't think I'll ever let go of that sense of battle or that I have something to fight against, even though the load gets lighter each and every day.

Today, a friend posted this video to his facebook profile, and I cannot put into words just how much I know how this woman feels. I want you to take the 7 minutes to sit back and watch. Watch the doubt. Watch the eye rolls. Watch the fact that thousands of people make blatant assumptions about who this woman is and what she is capable of. Hold up the mirror to yourself and watch if you have the same reactions, and make the same assumptions.

The, I want you to listen. Listen to her voice. Listen to the lyrics (oddly one of m favourite broadway show tunes of all time). Listen to her spirit. Open your ears, your mind, your heart. Listen to this woman. And in the back of your head, or even out loud, join me in cheering her on and saying to this audience and all of those who watched: "Take that, you skeptical f**kers!"

Susan Boyle on Britain's Got Talent
(I would normally download the video, but my conversion software isn't working, so this link will take you to YouTube)

Welcome to my world. Welcome to my battle. Join me in my fight. May we all have victories like this our lives.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

How much fight is in me?

2009-04-09T18:34:00.000-07:00

I had a lovely moment tonight at the gym. A woman who saw me doing a kickboxing class at on Tuesday night, stopped me to tell me how impressed she was with my technique, and how hard I was working in the class. We got to talking a little bit about what was motivating each of us to get in shape, and I was thrilled to share with her how much weight I've lost. I was even more thrilled with her reaction and words of support. I smiled, and felt good... for a moment. I've been getting lots of feedback lately -- people stopping me and telling me how good I'm looking, how I'm inspiring them, how my punches and kicks are "pretty wicked". And it's an odd feeling, 'cause I've never been a physically combative person. I've always been predisposed to a fight based in words and principles, but never in punches and kicks. Which makes the fact that Sebastien and I have started sparring during our workouts that much more ironic. However, I've been in a bit of a funk as of late, and in spite of this woman's kind and generous words, and those of many others, I continue to feel that it would be so very very easy for me to give up right now. So, as I sat on the bike cranking out the last 20 minutes of my workout tonight, my legs spinning and heart pounding, I couldn't help but ask myself, "How much fight do I have left in me?"

I've been feeling a bit beaten down lately. That's likely why it's been a wee while since I last blogged. There are moments that I feel like this space should be about sharing all of the positive stuff that I'm going through. But I realize that I've got to put the bad out there with the good. I'm tired. I'm cranky. I think I'm having my 'manses'. Yes, I'm still going to the gym every day, powering through a minimum of 1200 calories in a workout, and experiencing the endorphin rush and adrenaline high, though brief, that everyone says should help a person to dig himself out of the dumps. But it doesn't seem to be working right now. I'm still asking myself, "Have I gone far enough? How much further do I have to go? How much further can I go?"

Things at work have been pretty stressful lately. It's the end of term, and students are going into crisis left, right, and centre. That means that my days are filled with trying to manage complex situations, come up with reasonable solutions, and help people who are struggling in their lives to keep on track. The irony is that I feel like I could veer off my own track without much effort. Furthermore, the economy sucks, funding at work is scarce, and I have moments of vulnerability at a time when I fear that my boss is struggling to piece together enough funding to keep me employed. Let's just say that my stress level is running high, my energy is running low, and every time I see a student on campus taking a bite out of a Tim Horton's Canadian Maple donut, I want to tear it out of their hands and shove it down my gullet to dull the stress, worry and angst that I'm feeling. I realize that at this moment in time, in spite of all I've done and accomplished, it would be really easy for me to give up.

I figure any one person only has so much fight in him. There are more and more days when I feel like I'm fighting at work -- for the university to do the 'right' thing, for my boss to realize that I'm valued. Not a day goes by when I feel like I'm not fighting myself (and my 'demons' as one student described his own addiction this week) to keep on track with my health and fitness goals. Hell, last night I was fighting with my dog -- to remind her that even though daddy was a bit late coming home from work, that taking a stinky crap in the dining room is a passive aggressive (albeit effective) way of expressing her dismay and feeling of neglect. But really, after you fight so much against forces, perceived and/or real, that you feel are keeping you down, at some point, you're gonna crack and throw in the towel.

So I have to shake my head and realize that my fight isn't as tough as I think. I think. I have been dealing with a student at work over the past few days, who has been struggling with drug addiction. But he's trying to deal with it. I think. I met with a student who, after his third attempt at taking his life, finally entered a treatment program and is going to face his demons head on. I think. There are so many more people who struggle with issues that are far more complex and complicated than what I struggle with in my own life. So, why am I feeling like it's so difficult? Is that selfish of me? Would giving up be doing a disservice to people who have fought more profound fights, like my aunt who lost her battle with cancer, or my uncle who won his? Am I really that ready to give up???

I'm not quite there. Yet. But it wouldn't take me long to turn that corner and wave the white flag for a while. I mean, I've done a LOT of work in the past 10 months. I've lost close to 90 pounds from working out 6 days a week. I've turned into my worst nightmare -- I'm a friggin' gym rat!!!

I'm pushing my body to its physical limits, resulting in aches and pains in places I never knew existed. I'm pushing my mind to think about myself and my relationship with food and fitness in a healthier way, sometimes making me a tad obsessive about analyzing calories, sugar and fat content in food. More than anything, I'm pushing my soul -- the essential core of my being -- to be in the world in a whole new way, leaving me feeling vulnerable, exposed, and uncertain about what lays ahead.

I've done a lot of pushing.
I've done a lot of fighting.
But I remain committed, albeit sometimes by a thread alone, to getting one last punch or kick in on the fight. I'm pretty sure I've got it in me.

That said, I'm fascinated with the fact that even though I'm feeling like I don't have much fight left, and that I'm fed up with combat -- at work, at the gym, with my dog -- that the only thing I can think of that will help me feel better is tossing a few punches and kicks at the punching bag in the gym. So tonight, I did a 40-minute run (cranked up my speed by .5 km/hr), a 20-minute elliptical run (at level 13), and a 20-minute bike ride (at level 12). Then, before returning to the locker room, I walked over to the back of the gym, and tossed a few good punches and kicks into the bag. No gloves. No pads. But I felt better. Not totally better, but a bit better. And I walked away kowing that I do still have some fight in me. And that's what will keep me moving, keep me punching, keep me kicking.

Fight on.

Kia kaha.
Stay Strong.

Creature comforts...

2009-03-30T19:00:00.000-07:00

As I'm sure you recall, Sebastien started blogging a while back, and I was posting my responses to his blog posts here. I've since started following a few other blogs, including that of Toronto Star columnist David Bruser, who is chronicling his move into the world of fitness and exercise. It's an interesting take on things, and encourage you to read it... for a bit of variety, if nothing else. That said, I'll also post my responses here.

So, in response to his most recent post, I offered my thoughts. Ironically, I was beginning to wrap my head around the same idea of how comfortable the gym has become, and how I know that when I go there, I can maximize every minute and get the job done. I know that I can put in 1 1/2 - 2 hours and burn 1500+ calories. I know who will be there, and what to expect. But as daylight lasts longer, and the temperature slowly warms, maybe it's time to think about taking it outside and maybe shocking my system with the outcomes of something new and exciting. But, we'll see. We'll see.

My response to Bruser's blog post:

It's amazing how comfortable you get in your own space. Just tonight after a workout at my gym (Riverdale Fitness), I was talking with one of the staff there about the fact that spring is in the air... and it's time to try something new -- maybe bring all the energy I'm cranking at the gym to some new outdoor activity. I kind of winced at the idea knowing that there is something very comforting to knowing what and who to expect at my gym. Now that the post-new years' resolution craze has died down, it seems to be back to the usual crowd of regulars who know one another, and most importantly, respect one another. We know that we're all there to get a job done, and don't get in one another's way in the process. It's like the unspoken code of how things work -- no one really goes over it with you, but there's remarkable comfort in the certainty that the regulars are there. So, for me, the thought of taking it outside to try something different now that the weather is looking better, is a bit of an intimidating prospect. Doing a 50-minute run on the treadmill at the gym is one thing... doing it in a new environment outdoors, where I don't know who's watching (probably no one, I should get over myself), or what to expect is kind of scary. So, I completely get the feeling of comfort. I understand how, when it's sometimes difficult to just show up to the gym in the first place, that you know what you're getting when you walk through the door. And it seems that once you're there, everything is alright. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

PS. It would be interesting to think about whether or not the dirty-sock pasta was really as bad, or if your tastes are evolving because your body is changing and your attitude is transforming. Although, kudos to you for indulging... even if it was in some soggy poutine. Complete deprivation only makes the craving stronger!

Kia Kaha.
Stay strong.

Lots of balls in the air....

2009-03-26T16:59:00.000-07:00

Trying something new here... hope it works!
(Just click on the video for my latest post! Video runs about 10 minutes. And yes, I realize that the frozen image of me at the beginning of the video is not terribly flattering... so press play already and get on with it! LOL!!!)

Kia kaha
Stay strong

It's about showing up...

2009-03-13T19:40:00.000-07:00

In 1995, I was a residence don at the University of Waterloo. One of my responsibilities as a don was to be a role model to a group of first year students – an older brother, an experienced peer, someone who had been through the trenches and knew what it was like to be a first year student. I have some very clear memories of what my own first year was like, and many that weren’t so clear. But one of the most vivid memories I have of my five years at university was in September 1995 when I was sitting in a large room, with over a thousand first year students listening to then university president, James Downey, give them their official welcome to the university. A skilled orator, and tremendous educational leader, President Downey saw the university through some tough times, including a period of significant financial retrenchment. In spite of those challenges, or even perhaps because of them, he always seemed to be connected to students, and this humid day in early September when he took the time to speak to new students was evidence of the fact that he never lost sight of the core purpose of his role as university president. Part of why that day still stands out for me is because of the message he conveyed to those students, who were undoubtedly nervous, anxious, afraid, excited about the journey that awaited them. At the heart of his message was the idea that one of the most intimidating, yet important steps one can take towards facing fears, and ultimately succeeding (in this case, at a university education) was to show up. Show up to class. Show up to sporting events. Show up to theatre productions. Whatever the university experience offered, all one had to do was show up, and the rest would come naturally. This made sense to me then – it makes even more sense to me now. Why? Because when people have recently been asking me what I’ve done to make such progress on my health, or what gimmick I used to lose this amount of weight, they’re generally quite surprised to hear my very frank, straightforward, and uncomplicated answer:

I showed up.

For so many years of my life, I did show up. Not for myself, but for others. I’ve always been a very generous person – my time, my support, my attention – and have had no qualms about offering more to others than I ever dared to offer myself. To an extent, that’s what I was taught growing up – that giving is more important than receiving; that the good we put out into the world would come back to us in return. However over time, giving so much of myself, in my work and in my personal life, wasn’t generating the return on investment for which I had hoped and prayed. I used to think that if I was good to others, then some universal power (however he or she is defined) would return the favour by some day magically bestowing unto me the gift of health and happiness. In spite of that, or perhaps because of this naïve hope in the possibility of the unknown, I would wake up every morning, take a look in the mirror, and be disappointed -- not only by the fact that I didn’t have a Freaky-Friday moment and all of a sudden wake up in the body I always wanted, but most significantly by the fact that my own reflection continued to be a source of absolute pain and sadness. As I mentioned in my post entitled ‘Proud’ , looking at my own reflection (in mirrors, windows, or anything shiny) has been so very difficult. And it was only in a moment at the gym when I decided to be brave, focus my eyes and learn to acknowledge the reflection that stood before me. In fact, every morning, I now look in the mirror, smile and even let out a bit of a laugh at how much I am enjoying those moments when I actually like the person I see looking back at me. But it took me over 20 years to get to this place.

So how does learning to look in the mirror relate to this idea of ‘showing up’? Well, I guess that in order to make the changes I’ve made thus far, I’ve had to show up for myself in every aspect of my life. ‘Showing up’ not only means actually physically showing up to the gym, to do my workouts, etc., but it also means ‘showing up’ emotionally to do the work that I’ve needed to do. I’ve had to, in some ways, learn to be a bit selfish, and put the need of others aside so that I can focus on (show up for) myself. I've had to face my fears, confront my demons, and take them on, staring them straight in the eyes, with the confidence and strength i knowing that this time, I'm going to kick their ass. And this sometimes meant staring them down through my own reflection.

This was a tough lesson to learn. Spending so much time focused on me made me feel a little bit guilty about the ways that I’ve been neglecting other people and responsibilities in my life. But I continue to assure myself that in order to be fully present for my friends, family, etc. I have to now be fully present for myself during this critical time in my life. And sometimes that means saying ‘no’ to doing things I would otherwise do. It means spending my Friday night at the gym instead of being out with friends. It means giving up a few things that I wasn’t sure I wanted to, but eventually knowing that in order to stop giving up on myself, I had to give up other things in my life. Again, this has not been easy. I realize that I'm making many sacrifices to get to my highest of higs. But I also acknowledge how much of myself I've sacrificed to get to my lowest of lows. Getting healthy and losing weight has become a bit of a full time job. It requires a tremendous amount of focus – not because it’s incredibly complicated, but for me, because I used to spend so much time and energy focusing on what I never liked about myself, that I need to expend as much (if not more) energy on learning to like myself. And contrary to what some people might say is the path to redemption on this weight loss journey, I found that learning to love my former self was not an option. I couldn’t learn to love the morbidly obese man who stared back at me in the mirror each and every day. I couldn’t accept that my reflection was that of someone who was completely fine with himself. I simply could not accept the idea that the hurt and pain that I experienced each day when looking in the mirror, was not a result of the fact that I was truly unhappy, but instead the result of mainstream (read: thin and beautiful) society rejecting the fact that I moved through the world differently. And by ‘differently’ I mean in a larger body, weighed down not just by fat, but by sadness and hurt. I couldn’t accept that once I learned to love the ‘fat me’, that I would have the epiphany I prayed for and all of a sudden ‘be the change’ I wanted to see in myself (to adapt a line from Mahatma Ghandi).

At the same time, I could no longer accept the unhappiness – the shame that came from knowing that each time I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror or in the window, that I winced not necessarily because of what I saw, but because it hurt to see what I saw. But learning to like my own reflection, to be happier with myself, was all about showing up. It was about making the VERY conscious choice to allow myself to be my best possible self in whatever way possible. And it’s a choice I have to make each and every day. I know that is sounds like that guy on Saturday Night Live who looked at himself and said ‘I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and people like me’, but at the end of the day taking a moment to look at my reflection -- being present with myself in the mirror – and notice how my jaw line is thinner, how my chin is more defined, and how my smile grows more each and every day, is all about showing up.

And on tough days when I don’t feel like going to the gym, because I don’t really have the energy or the desire, I remind myself of what President Downey said in 1994. The hardest part is showing up. It’s hard because going to the gym is sometimes still scary. Doing my weekly assessment with Sebastien is sometimes still difficult. But it truly gets easier with time, because showing up is without a doubt the most difficult part. That’s what I’ve learned. It gets easier because each and every day, I keep showing up.

Show up in your life. Show up in your own way. Just show up.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

And what goes good with chili??? GUAC!!!

2009-03-10T19:12:00.000-07:00

Not only is my chili recipe highly sought after, but so is my guacamole recipe. So here goes...

Combine:

1/2 cup of unsalted raw pumpkin seeds, ground up in a food processor/chopper
1 tablespoon of cumin
2 tablespoons of chili powder
1 tablespoon of smoked or sweet paprika
1/2 tablespoon of freshly ground pepper
pinch of salt
pinch of cinnamon
pinch of oregano

Put these dry ingredients aside.

In a the bowl of the food processor, combine

1 small red onion, finely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
8 small or 6 regular avocadoes
1/2 cup of frozen green peas (thawed) (these add a bit of natural sweetness, and keeps the guac green)
1/2 cup freshly chopped cilantro
2 tablespoons of hot sauce (watch the salt in this stuff!)
Juice of 3 or 4 large limes

Process all of the ingredients (dry and fresh) until smooth. Store in an air-tight container with a piece of plastic wrap covering, and in full contact with the surface of, the guac. This should store in your fridge for a few days. Keep the air out of it and it will retain its colour.

This recipe yields about 24 1/4 cup servings (the trick is to stop with one serving!) Use it as a dip with veggies or chips. Smear it on sandwiches instead of mayo. It's loaded with good fats and good vitamins. In other words, it's worth the calories. Here's the nutritional analysis (courtesy of www.nutritionaldata.com):

Per serving (65 grams)
Calories 104
Calories from fat 75 (but they're good fat!)
Total fat 9 grams (1 saturated, 0 transfats)
Cholesterol 0 mg
Sodium 20mg
Carbs 7 grams (4 grams of dietary fibre, 1 gram of sugars)
Protein 2 grams

Enjoy!

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

Mmm... Chili

2009-03-08T18:19:00.001-07:00

I'm often asked for my recipe for Chili. It's very healthy and filled with dietary fibre. One of the tricks is to make sure you use low-sodium everything -- you can used canned beans/legumes, but rinse them really well and that cuts the sodium right down. Also, cut out the brown sugar if you'd like to lower the total grams of carbs, although I find that the brown sugar balances with the balsamic vinegar. And yes, there's spinach in it -- you won't taste it, but you'll benefit from it being there. Adjust the spices to taste, and enjoy!

Place 6 hot italian turkey sausages and 1 pound (450g) ground turkey in a pot with about 1 Tablespoon of olive oil
Sautee until turkey sweats
Add 2 small chopped onions, 2 cloves garlic, 1 chopped red pepper
Sautee until veggies sweat
Add 2 cups of chicken stock or water
Add 1 teaspoon each of chili powder, smoked paprika, chipotle powder, ancho chili powder, dried oregano
Add 1/2 teaspoon of cinammon
Add 2 teaspoons cumin
Cook out spices for about 5 minutes
Add 1 tin each (rinsed) of black beans, kidney beans, white beans, 3 cups (2 large cans) of tomato sauce (low-sodium diced or pureed tomatoes), a few shakes of hot sauce, worsterchire, and balsamic vinegar
Add 2 teaspoons brown sugar
Simmer on low for an hour
Thaw and drain, and then add a package of frozen chopped spinach
Add 1 cup of corn kernels, 1/2 tin of tomato pastes
Simmer on low until it's the consistency you like
Before serving, add the juice of 1 lime
Top with chopped cilantro, low-fat cheese and lime wedge.

Makes 8 servings.

Nutritional Information (courtesy of www.nutritionaldata.com) per serving:

Calories 389
Total fat 11 grams (3 saturated, 0 trans)
Cholesterol 87 mg
Sodium 493mg (keep the sodium low by rinsing all the beans)
Carbs 41 grams (10 grams of dietary fiber, 8 grams of sugars)
Protein 34 grams

Kia Kaha.
Stay strong.

Fearless...

2009-03-03T19:58:00.001-08:00

One of the most significant things I've learned over the past nine months that I've been working with Sebastien, is to confront my fears and realize that I am indeed truly capable of doing pretty much anything I set my mind to. Among the fears i've managed to confront are going to the gym; looking at myself in the mirror; and trusting in the uncertainty of the process of getting healthy. This has not been easy to do. For a control-freak like me, letting go of my fear and embracing the possibility that lies within the uncertainty of new experiences has been a pretty daunting challnge to overcome. It's also been incredibly humbling.

Last week, I had to face one of my biggest fears again -- the fear and anxiety that overcomes me every time I set foot into the doctor's office. I realize that with every visit to a doctor, even when it's a proactive step towards better health, I may very well be told what I've always been afraid to hear: that I'm severely overweight; that my health is in really bad shape; and that I'm quickly spiralling down a path towards killing myself. Now, these were things that I didn't already know -- and every time I've been to the doctor for blood tests, check-ups, etc. I've had to face this fear head on. And I've had physicians tell me these things in many different ways. But I've never really listened. However, I've never been to the doctor when I've been more tuned into my health and wellbeing as I am right now, so I knew that whatever I was told on this visit, I would hear loud and clear. Even last week, after having done so much in the past 9 months to conquer all of my health issues, I was extremely anxious and fearful of what the doctor might tell me. I was afraid that I would go for my check up and be told that in spite of everything I've done, that I still haven't made a dent in my health problems. Now, I wasn't expecting to get a perfectly clean bill of health, but I was hoping and praying for some positive news. At the same time, I was afraid that any bad news might set me back and send me back to a place of doubt, fear, and self-pity that got me into the worst shape of my life about 18 months ago. Essentially, I was afraid that the doctor would confirm the negative self talk that has filled my head for so many years -- that I don't deserve to be healthy, and that I'm a failure.

In spite of that, I had to face the fear.
It was time for my check-up.
And I hate to say, that it didn't go well.

I went to see a new doctor at my clinic for my medical. The doctor I've seen previously at the clinic on a regular basis was by virtue of him being on duty during the walk-in clinic hours. However, this time was going to be better. I was a little excited by the fact that this new doctor had agreed to take me on as a regular patient, and that I would finally get a health professional who could be regular part of my 'success team' -- the group of people, including Sebastien, my friends and family, and others, who surround me with the reassurance and support that is so essential to my success.

Well, this new doctor, we'll call him 'Dr. S', spent all of nine minutes with me during my check up. He took the fastest family medical history I've ever heard, and after typing a few things into the computer, asked me if there was anything else about my health history that I needed to know. I shared with him that I had been working out with a trainer, that I've been eating really well, and that I had lost a significant amount of weight. I figured that this would be the moment when Dr. S would tell me that I've done great work thus far and that I'm moving in the right direction -- and that it was about continuing to take big steps towards success.

That's what I thought he would do. He didn't.

Instead, Dr. S. told me that I should consider going to Weight Watchers. After all, "it's a great program that promotes portion control, and makes it easy by counting points." I told him that I have tried Weight Watchers several times in my life and that my nutrition was solid. He obviously wasn't listening, because he then continued to lecture me about health by saying that an essential part of weight loss is good nutrition. Apparently it's about a balance of healthy eating and physical activity! Who knew!!! By that point, I realized that sitting before me was yet another insensitive 'health professional' who, the minute I walked into the exam room, had decided that I was a weak, uninformed fat person who obviously lacked the self control necessary to overcome his issues. And that pissed me off. BIG TIME.

I respectfully remarked that I hadn't managed to lose close to 100 pounds just from exercise -- that I was well aware of my nutritional needs and was doing very well on that front. Again, he wasn't convinced. He then told me about a program (the name of which he didn't know, ironically) that matched patients with a doctor and a nutritionist, and it was covered by provincial health insurance. So I might want to consider that. Getting agitated, and even more pissed off that he wasn't listening to me, I again said that nutrition wasn't a problem, and both that Sebastien and a naturopath (Dr. Kim Whitaker) had both given me gold stars for my food planning. He finally let go of that topic, realizing that time was ticking and he had to get through this exam. After all, a high turnover of patients means that he'd make more money that day!

So we moved on, and it was time to measure my vital signs. I was exepcting him to take my resting heart rate, my weight, height, and blood pressure -- after all, he had just met me! He took my blood pressure on my right arm, and then switched the cuff to my left. I was trying to relax (in spite of the fact that I was already angry), and explained to him that I was feeling very anxious about being at the doctor's office in the first place -- as such, the reading might be a bit higher than normal. He told me that 'white coat syndrome' is still hypertension, and needs to be treated regardless. He then told me that my BP reading was 180/120. WHAT????
I explained to him that my previous readings were drastically lower (still in the pre-hypertension range) but not that severely high. He didn't listen -- remember, to him, I was a sad, uninformed, powerless fat person. Instead, he gave me a prescription for blood pressure medication and told me that he didn't want me to feel like he was rushing me into anything, but he also didn't want me to have a stroke (you can feel the empathy and bedside manner dripping off the page, right???). I explained to him that I didn't want to take meds that would interefere with weight loss (as blood pressure meds are known to do) -- but he told me that there wasn't much of an option. Then, without taking any other vital sign, he led me out of the office, handed me the prescription and told me to make an appointment for a few weeks later -- a visit during which we would check my BP and IF (not WHEN) I lost more weight, we would revisit the need for medication.

F*ck.

I left the clinic, in a bit of a daze, and walked next door to the pharmacy to get the prescription filled. I took a moment to send Sebastien a text message to let him know how the visit went -- all the while feeling completely defeated and that I had not only let myself down, but that I had also let Sebastien down. With a BP reading of 180/120, I apparently had Stage 2 hypertension, which had the potential to drastically change the intensity with which I work out. The result even had the possibility of my having to no longer work out with Sebastien, because the risk was tremendous.

Double-F*ck.

It didn't make sense to me. It didn't make sense to Sebastien. If you knew the intensity with which I work out (sometimes 2+ hours in a session, burning close to 1800 calories in one workout), it would be nearly impossible to have a BP reading of 180/120 and not keel over at the gym. It made absolutely no sense at all -- but I still felt completely battered, and that I had failed. I had a moment of saying 'why even bother. I've done all this work, and I'm worse off than when I started.' In that moment, I felt angry. I felt powerless. I felt afraid. I wanted poutine. LOL!

After a lot of ranting back and forth on my BlackBerry with Sebastien, and with his wise counsel, I decided to not take the meds and get another opinion. I had my BP checked by other health professionals at other clinics over the course of the two days that followed, and low and behold, it was NOT 180/120. My actual reading was 135/82. Now for a guy of my size, who works out with the intensity that I do, with a resting heart rate of 57 -- 135/82 isn't anything to sniff at. After second and third opinions, including that of my naturopath, I have happily concluded that my BP isn't anything to worry about. Yes, I'm going to continue to monitor it, along with all of my other health signs. But I'm not going to let one prick's negligent diagnosis stand in my way.

I'm in great shape, and am doing everything 'right' to continue to ensure my greatest possible success along this wieght loss journey. The only problem I really had, was that I gave one doctor (who had a horrible bedside manner) the power to make me feel worse than I have in a really long time. I deserve better than that. I deserve the respect of my health care team -- who I expect to honour where I've been and celebrate what I've accomplished. Spending time with a doctor who, after meeting me for only 9 minutes, and with no other medical informaiton, gives me a prescription for drugs that I don't want to take, isn't worth my time. I deserve way better than that. And coming to that conclusion isn't something that I would have been able to do a year ago. But I can now, thanks to the confidence and self-assurance that I draw from my focus on physical and emotional wellbeing.

All that said, I flushed the pills down the toilet, and cancelled my next appointment with Dr. S. I'm now working with my naturopath to monitor the progress in my health, and I'm pleased to say that I've added him to my 'success team' -- finally a health professional who understands who I am, and who is prepared to walk along the path with me -- not push me down the road and throw a bunch of pills at me.

All that said, I faced my fear. I overcame it. I flipped the bird to the source of my fear, and have decided to turn the negativity from last week into new-found momentum that will continue to propel me towards success. I've got so much momentum that in fact tonight, I ran for 40 minutes on the treadmill. Nine months ago, I couldn't even WALK for 40 minutes on the treadmill. I can't beleive that tonight, I conquered the treadmill and cranked out a 40 minute run. I've never felt lighter on my feet. I've never felt as liberated. I've never felt as fearless.

So, that's the update. I've got nothing more to report other than having had a crappy week and turned it into something positive and powerful. I turned my fear into strength and said 'screw you' to my doubters. I continue to find faith in the strength that I draw from my sessions and exchanges with Sebastien -- and still know that I need him, and others around me to be strong, so that I can be strong for myself. I also continue to learn that I am so very fortunate and blessed to be surrounded by so many people who are invested in my success and supportive of my journey. "Dr. S" isn't one of those people, but who needs him anyway.

Kia kaha.
Stay strong.

PS. Did you know that the standard Blood Pressure cuff (the one most doctors use, and the one on those machines in pharmacies), is suitable for a person whose arm measures 12 inches around or less? So, if you're arms are 13 inches or more, you might be getting wrong readings, and should make sure you ask to have a large cuff. Also, the arm size is printed on the inside of most cuffs, so insist on double-checking at the doctor's office, or read the fine print on the machine at the drug store. It could make a difference of more than a few points on either measure!

I can see clearly now...

2009-02-22T17:14:00.000-08:00

I've had an interesting past few weeks. Last week, I reached a new milestone. I'm down 85 pounds since I made a decision to get fit, and 60 pounds since I started working with my trainer. That's pretty cool. But it is in fact not this new milestone that I have found most exciting. In the past few weeks, I've had an unusual number of people approach me asking me if I was losing weight, working out, etc. At work, at the gym, in my personal life -- I've had a lot of people pull me aside to tell me that I look fantastic, that I seem really "radiant", and most interestingly, that I'm "shrinking."

Remember -- I look at myself every day. So, I don't necessarily see it.
But I see it now.
And it didn't really see the difference until yesterday.

I was sitting at C5 -- a wonderful restaurant on the top floor of the Royal Ontario Museum, in the Michael Lee-Chin Crystal overlooking downtown Toronto. I was with three friends (Tony, Liza and Alison) having an afternoon champagne tea to celebrate Liza's milestone birthday. We had a wonderful, relaxing meal -- quiche, petit-fours with foie gras, caviar, and lobster, champagne, and of course, tea. We had been sitting there for close to three hours, when Alison and Liza excused themselves to visit the ladies' room, and Tony and I remained at the table. I had just taken out my credit card to pay the bill, when I inadvertently pulled out my drivers' license. I've not looked at my license in a long time, but I saw it. Right then, and there. I looked at Tony and said, "I see it now. Holy shit, I'm shrinking!"

A lot of people have told me that they can really see my weight loss in my face. Seeing it elsewhere is a bit more difficult, since I'm still wearing the same clothes, and everything still fits really big. I see my progress a bit more when I'm at the gym -- wearing smaller t-shirts, and enjoying the view of my legs... let's just say that I've got a closet full of clothes that formerly did not fit -- and now they do. But again, I look at myself (with the most critical of all eyes) each and every day. But I never really noticed the difference in my face, again, until yesterday.

So, I decided to take a look through my pictures on the computer ('cause I don't have any real photographs anymore), and realized that they were difficult to come by. I've never really enjoyed having my picture taken. I never really wanted to have any sort of official 'documentation' of just how big I really was. I have an idea of what my heaviest weight was (about 100 pounds more than I weigh now), but I never documented it. Documenting or recording this information would have been the ultimate exercise in vulnerability -- admitting that I had a problem. It's the same idea as I've been taught about goal setting: if you write it down, you're more likely to achieve it, because it becomes real. Writing down my weight, or taking a photograph would have made my weight, my sadness, my pain, more real than I was prepared for. And it already hurt too much. I didn't want it to hurt anymore. Sebastien has suggested several times that I take pictures so that I can chronicle my progress. I haven't done so, and I'm starting to realize that I regret it.

So, back to this new phenomenon of people telling me how good I look. It was, at first, very uncomfortable. But now, I'm kind of starting to like it. I've attracted the attention of others for most of my life -- negative attention. People think they're being subtle or discreet, but I went through many years of my life seeing people make faces, sensing that people were whispering comments, or more often than I care to remember, actually hearing people insult me. Sometimes even to my face. So, attention hasn't been in any way comfortable -- so much so that even when people were taking the time to tell me something good (positive feedback at work, encouragement, even a simple thank you), I recoiled in discomfort because any sort of attention reminded me of how much it hurt to be the focus of attention -- and not the good type of attention.

Now that people are giving me 'good' attention, I've had to adjust and get used to it. I even noticed that when Sebastien was giving me praise or feedback when we're training, that I quickly laugh it off or change the subject -- because just as much as I felt vulnerable getting the negative attention, I feel equally exposed getting the good stuff, too. Saying yes to the question, "Chris, are you losing weight?" still requires me to acknowledge that I have a problem and that I need help. But I'm at a point where admitting both is something that I'm almost completely comfortable with. And as I said, I'm getting used to it. I'm learning how to respond with a smile and say "Thank you." I'm learning to engage people in honest conversation about what I'm doing as opposed to trying to quickly change the subject and think to myself "Mind your own friggin' business." In many ways, starting this blog was the easiest way for me to control the type of attention that I anticipated would accompany me on this journey. Instead of having to answer the questions from curious (and genuinely caring) people, and actually admit that I was struggling and needed help (not something I do well at all), I took advantage of this technology to control the ways in which I communicated with those who are closest to me about the life-changing journey I've been on. Of course, over time, I've made my blog public, and nowadays, instead of dodging the question about losing weight, I'll sit people down, talk to them about what I'm doing, teach them some new fact about nutrition or exercise, and even show them my kickboxing video on the blog. So, I've done a bit of a 180-degree turn. And it feels good.

My license picture was taken in September 2007, when I was easily at my heaviest. Considering I've lost 85 pounds since December 2007, I was probably closer to 100 pounds heavier in September of that year. In July 2008, I had just made the decision to work with Sebastien -- that was 60 pounds ago. In September 2008, I had commissioned a former student to take some headshots for me (for my work) -- the first time in a very long time I ever willingly allowed someone to take pictures of me. It was an hour-long photo shoot and one of the most unusual things I've ever done. And finally February 2009 marks my 60/85/100 moment -- when I feel like I've turned a corner and am far enough down a path that I will never ever turn back.

So, I finally see the difference. Can you???

Kia Kaha.
Stay Strong.