Everything in Moderation
I love a good time line.
Prologue: The Brisket Incident (March 17th, 2005)
Growing up, I have never had good eating habits. The speed at which I eat, the portions, and complete disregard for nutritional value determined that I have always had the ability to eat considerable amounts of food. My family (lovingly) would call me "the vacuum" because I would end up cleaning up other people's plates, or finishing off whatever happened to be left of family dinner. (I recall once requesting 10 burritos from Taco Bel. I ate them all.) Grade school and middle school are marked in my memory because I made it a habit to have a bowl of ice cream before I went to bed each night (even after having "cleaned up" everyone else's dinners). After high school, my poor eating continued, leaving me with constant problems with my blood pressure, my intestinal tract, and overall lack of physical fitness.
One such fabled instance, dubbed "The Brisket Incident," was one time over spring break where a group of friends had stopped into a particularly famous Texas roadside barbecue. Every bit of food was fried, and if it wasn't fried, it was slathered in barbecue sauce. I forget now the exact quantities, but the story goes that I not only ate everything that I'd ordered, but also leftovers from two other plates, in addition to whatever accoutrement that came with the meals (fries, drinks, etc).
Years later, friends refer to this laughingly when I say that I don't want to, or can't eat something. They remind me of what I ate that day, and how whatever happens to be in front of me is nothing in comparison. To which I can only respond, "I am not that man anymore."
Part 1: Something Lost, Something Gained/Lost (Jan 2006 - May 2007, -15lbs)
January 2006. I'm mid-way through my junior year in college. I've just completed one of my most stressful semesters of my degree. A month earlier, I'd been jogging alongside the canals I lived next to while going to school. At my best, I was able to run for three miles straight. However, due to poor footwear, poor form, and a staunch refusal to stretch or warm up, I'd hurt my Achilles tendons in my ankles, gave myself shin splints, and I hadn't exercised properly since then. Over Christmas break, my friends decide to hike up the back of Flattop. It is a humbling experience.
Five months later, May 2006. I'm on my way to eat brunch with my family. I get a call from my soon-to-be roommate that my '96 Ford Explorer has been stolen from the parking lot it was being stored in. I answer questions from the Scottsdale police. The officer I talked to had a thick Australian accent. I had taken the insurance off of the car not two weeks earlier to save money. The car is never recovered, and is a total loss, made all the more poignant for the reason that the car's value was about the cost of a semester's tuition.
So I have to work, and I have to continue to work through my last year of school. The summer of 2006 I work as an intern for a software development company in Anchorage. I play frisbee on occasion, but never make good on my notion to bike to work. My job consists of sitting in a chair for eight hours a day. It's hard to adjust, but I do.
August, I'm back at school with no vehicular mode of transportation. Thankfully, it's slightly less of an issue: the semester before I'd decided on a change, and to move in with a friend for my last year and try things "on my own." The place I move into is much better suited: I am no longer driving 20 miles every day, and I can practice more autonomy, something I'd felt I'd been lacking in my previous years at school. I also don't have to pay hundreds of dollars in parking registration to the university.
The morning after I get back into town, I buy a $100 clearance 10-speed mountain bike from a local bike shop in Tempe, AZ. Less than two weeks later, I take the bike in to the shop, as a combination of my pedaling and the Arizona desert had melted the plastic pieces attaching the left pedal to the bike. I continue to bike 4 miles each way. It is more than 90F in Arizona until mid-October. This meant that I would be forced to bring at least a liter of water with me to school, otherwise I risked dehydration or heat stroke. The first few weeks were absolutely brutal (and compounded by being sore, and saddle sore). And there was no day that I didn't show up to class drenched in sweat.
My classes are mostly mid-morning through the afternoon, with some days going late into the afternoons and evenings, meaning that even if I weren't in class, likely I am in the computer lab, working on a project or awaiting my next lecture.
Even when I had no classwork or projects and I had time to kill, it's worth mentioning that downtown Tempe, where the Computer Science department held most of its courses, had considerable night life and bars and such. Most of which were tailored to young, wealthy professionals, and not young, poor students (articles in the school paper criticized Tempe's community planning heavily). This meant that while I was surrounded by food, none of the high-end restaurants were in my budget, nor could I afford it if I tried to venture towards the nearest Jack in the Box with any frequency. I barely have enough money for normal groceries, rent, and tuition. The reality is: if I want to eat, I will have to wait until I bike home. I am always hungry.
My diet consists of cereal, yogurt, bananas, rice, chicken, assorted dried fruit, and the occasional patronage of the take-out Chinese food place. After a few boxes of pulverized cereal, I determine that my most efficient way to shop for groceries was to tag along with my roommate and hope he had enough room in the trunk of his car. This meant that I had to buy in bulk, and plan my meals such that they:
- Were not crushable, and were able to fit alongside everything else when placed in my small backpack.
- Were not ruined by extreme heat, moisture, or would expire too quickly.
- Could be prepared and consumed with great speed (breakfasts, etc.)
The school year passes. After 9 months, I've lost at least 15lbs to reach a weight of 180lbs, the lowest weight I'd reached in recent memory. I'm elated, but between senior projects, working part-time, finals, and episodes of Friends, I don't have much time to consider what's happening. I go to Las Vegas for the first time during my last spring break. Somebody tells me I look a lot thinner than I do in my pictures. I drink 190-proof orange smoothies, and a good time is had by all.
Part 2: A Fall From Grace (May 2007 - Jan 2009, +30lbs)
May 2007. I graduate from college, and a week later I go to work at the software development place I interned at and worked part-time for over the course of my last year at school. I have to buy new work clothes, as nothing I have is work appropriate, or fits well.
Within a month I move into an apartment relatively close to where I work. I tell myself I should bike to work, but stress from my job, combined with poor sleeping and eating habits mean that I'm always at least 10 to 20 minutes late, and I'm forced to drive. I no longer maintain my diet, frequently over-eat, get into a habit of going out for lunch, and have enough income that I don't have to make decisions on what I buy at the store and when.
I bike every few days after work, but not with the regularity from when I commuted to class. I play frisbee once or twice a week, which ends up being great exercise. However, only playing once a week, combined with worsening diet, sedentary career, and irregularity of other exercise meant that I was in fact declining in physical fitness by the end of the summer (decreased stamina, etc.). With the onset of fall, and the cessation of outdoor activities, I get a gym membership, which I use actively for at least a month, then my attendance drops off rapidly such that by the time my contractual obligation is up a year later, I haven't been to the gym in months.
As the winter continues, I get increasingly stressed about my job, to the point where I jump ship before I even hit my first year. By March 2008, I've gained back 15lbs and lost most of my good eating habits. At 195lbs, I'm somewhat angry at myself for having lapsed, but endeavor to figure out a way to get back to where I was. At my new job, I'm farther away from my favorite places to get lunch, and I settle into a routine of bringing my lunches and eating them at my desk. I hit the gym occasionally, but not with any set routine.
I make the mistake of not owning a weight scale. And things get away from me. I buy a new car, a new computer, and Rock Band becomes incredibly popular where I live. I'm not really watching portions, or calories, or really trying to track anything I'm consuming, or any exercise I'm performing. I eat entire skillets worth of eggs, ham, and cheese by myself.
June 2008, I write a post about how I've reached a weight of 210lbs. Thinking back, I think it was actually 213lbs once I found an accurate digital scale. This just over one year after I'd reached 180lbs riding my bike to and from school in Arizona. This is all the more frustrating for the reason that I'm playing frisbee twice a week and biking 30+ miles on a regular basis, yet inexplicably cannot lose weight. I buy a new bike, and hit the trails with renewed earnest, but to no avail. As fall rolls around, I also start getting in the habit of regularly eating out for lunch, particularly to the Chinese food buffet right next to my work.
In October 2008, I end up going to Japan. Between the travel schedule, the jet lag, politeness, and the language boundary, I don't eat until my stomach is full for two days. I'm hungry, but I'm still able to function. Though I'd biked and played frisbee all summer, hiking Mount Misen was quite a challenge. However, making it to the top, combined with whatever system purge I'd conducted by eating slightly less, I feel alright once I get to the top.
I return having lost 5lbs in 10 days, but settle back into my American eating habits. Winter sets in, and after the new year I'm frustrated with the waste that is my gym membership. I cancel it, and buy a stationary exercise bike.
Part 3: Maintenance Period (Jan 2009 - Aug 2010, -5lbs)
Mid-winter 2009. I enjoy having the exercise bike immensely. However, space constraints become a problem: living in such a small apartment with two other people, not only does the bike take up room, but makes noise, and must be shared. In addition, any attempts at watching television while riding the bike are hampered by everyone else's television schedules. Finding time to watch something yourself on a regular basis is difficult. And riding in the early mornings doesn't work well for my sleep schedule. The bike is a quick and easy method for exercise, but the psychological friction to get oneself onto the bike erodes any routine I try to set forth.
I maintain a weight of around 206 to 208lbs. It's difficult, but I at least maintain some fitness in my legs such that I'm not starting completely from scratch come biking season. Somewhat of a consolation.
Upon my return from a trip to San Francisco in May, I start looking for houses. I'm biking regularly, and playing frisbee like clockwork, but the scheduling chaos introduced by house-hunting, real estate meetings, trips to the bank, trips to the lenders, and timing concerns with moving make it hard to maintain a decent diet, no less a decent exercise schedule, but I do try my best. I manage a few hundred miles on my bike.
My path, it seems, is beset with obstacles. Given little restraint when it comes to food, and with the idea that "I bike, therefore, I am justified in eating," my dietary habits gave way to counter-productive practices. Birthday after cake-filled birthday, after family get together, after barbecue, after alcohol-filled fishing weekend, after alcohol-filled camping weekend, after meat-filled cabin weekend, after classic drinking holiday, after classic gluttony holiday.
In all of 2009, I hike once. To the top of Bodenburg Butte. Which is barely a hike at all. I had hiked 6 times in the year prior.
I buy a house and move in towards the middle of September. I'm incredibly busy, but I still manage to bike around on occasion, as well as get in frisbee games. My first night in the house, my fridge is full of leftover coke and Costco pizza from the move. As the biking season ends, I'm still eating as terribly as I determined I could when I was biking heavily during the summer.
October 2009. I now have complete autonomy, but I still have familial cake-debt. Birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, each taking their toll.
However, a new option becomes available for a winter sport: hockey. Played once or twice a week, the games provide great anaerobic exercise. In addition, the Cuddy mid-town park opens, and an almost-daily maintained skating oval becomes available near where I live. Combined with my newfound freedom to watch Firefly and ride my exercise bike however long and whenever I see fit, I get into a better exercise routine. Unfortunately, hockey depends largely on weather and season, so it's efficacy is short lived.
But for the most part, the routines stick. I find that I ride for at least 30-45 minutes on the exercise bike. I even start experimenting with calisthenics. Progress is slow, and it's hard to maintain speed while still paying attention to the videos, but it works well enough. It's not the same as biking for real, but it's something.
I slowly improve upon my diet. My daily breakfast consists of milk and cereal (with either a banana or frozen blueberries), lightly buttered toast, low-fat yogurt, and Odwalla Superfood. For dinner, when I don't eat out, I usually eat fruit, or whole wheat spaghetti, or burritos, or roasted red pepper soup. I rarely buy meat for home, and keep away from highly fatty foods and snacks to save me from temptation.
A few friends start a reduced calorie diet. I become curious, and read one or two of the labels on the foods I often consume. I quickly lose interest, but the friends lose considerable amount of weight in the span of a few months.
I'm able to keep performing my exercise routine 2-3 times a week. I even keep a written exercise log for a while (but eventually lose interest).
January 2010. I have to get fitted for a tuxedo for a wedding in May. The guy measures my waist at 39", which is bizarre, because I wear a size 36 pair of jeans. I protested, and the pants were fitted for 36". By May, they were incredibly tight to the point I was afraid I would be breaking them.
Angry again at my lapse, I redoubled my efforts for biking. I started biking the 6.2 miles to and from work. Overall, I bike about 500 miles during the summer, and a total of 26 times I commute to work. Unfortunately, the summer of 2010 was one of the rainiest on record. We still play frisbee twice a week but with waning participation and poor weather it became less of a routine. Additionally, home improvements and painting projects eat into nights and weekends where I might otherwise be more active.
Part 5: Three Things Change (Aug 2010 - Current, -9.3lbs)
I end the summer being in relatively good shape, but without having improved upon overall weight. I'm still above 200lbs, and with the dietarily brutal holiday and winter months to come, I'm about where I was the previous year. I've biked some 500 miles, increasing length of exercise, intensity, and frequency, and have seemingly only managed to maintain my weight (rather than increased or decreased it). At this point, some analysis is warranted, but doesn't happen until months later.
After a month of rain and being forced indoors, I get the idea for the my exercise bike modifications.
I spend a few days coding the prototype. By the end of December, I've coded all of my desired features, as well as a logging system. With a single command, I have the ability to recall the duration, speed, and performance data of each exercise. I can use this to see if I'm improving, or otherwise.
Unfortunately, by January, I'm in the habit of going out to lunch at work every day of the week. I don't eat the worst of fast food, but I always get "the meals," as they seem somewhat cost effective. And I always get a soda. And I get a refill, because otherwise I don't feel like I'm getting value from the soft drink. It isn't until February 23rd that I take the time to input some of the foods I eat into a nutritional database and calculator program.
The results of which are surprising. What little I know about nutrition I probably half-learned from middle school health class, and the rest from folk science or supposition. In my mind, I was supposed to eat around 2000 calories a day, maybe a little more if I was an active person.
What I find is that, on average, I exceed that greatly. On the first day I input food items, I find that I consume an estimated total of 3380 calories. The program recommends that, given my age, height, and weight, only if I'm considered extremely active during the day should I consume around 3000 calories to maintain weight. I hazard a guess that my sedentary job as a computer programmer and my simple 45 minutes biking while watching Breaking Bad does not place very high in their activity scale.
After this discovery, combined with a worrying doctor's visit, I decide that I have to scale back. I set a goal to only consume 1500 calories a day, and to carefully monitor intake, and to offset all exceptions by extended periods of exercise. I all but cease going out to lunch, and if I do, order what I hope to be the lightest things on the menu (salads, vegetarian dishes, etc.). If I have to drink soda, I drink diet soda, and even that very sparingly. I begin to catalog my diet carefully, as well as track my weight by weighing in at the exact same time every morning.
Which brings us current.
Epilogue
As of April 11th, 47 days after beginning, I've lost 9.3lbs. That's an average of 0.2lbs per day, or 1.4lbs per week. Which, from what I read, is a healthy and maintainable rate recommend by most nutritionists. As you can see from the graph, certain times of the week are much, much harder to maintain routine. However, my efforts during the week, as well as strict dieting during the work week (when I'm away from my home fridge and pantry for at least 8 hours a day) make up for my dalliances.
For the first week, I was fucking starving. Or at least my body told me so. When I started, overeating and overall lack of moderation was the absolute norm. I was the first to finish every meal. If they were available, I would have seconds, or thirds. While I had convinced myself that I was eating healthier in some aspects of my diet, I was ignoring the concept of appropriate portions and servings completely.
For instance: my healthy breakfast cereal, the bowl of multi-grain Cheerios I had every morning before work. Before I started, it would take me the three weeks between Costco runs to get through two boxes of it, eating what I felt to be a reasonable amount. Paying attention to the nutritional facts, I found that I was eating at least 2 servings at each sitting. Now, I keep a 1-cup measuring cup next to my bags of cereal, and I go through cereal at a much less rapid rate.
I have tried to do the same with the other foods I eat regularly: only ever eat one serving of something. As my body has adjusted to different food quantities, it's gotten easier to keep in my mind that I don't need the amounts of food I can potentially consume. For someone who has been "a good eater" since birth, making the decision to throw away food rather than buckling under temptation is a hard, hard thing to do.
After getting over the psychological hump of eating less, I quickly found other limitations. Two weeks after I started, my ankle would randomly feel cold every 15 minutes. This lasted for two days straight. I had to go back through my diet to see if I was drastically missing any essential vitamins or minerals. I increased my intake of multi-vitamins, and thankfully this went away. I also made the dangerous rediscovery of coffee as both a stimulant and hunger suppressant: if I drink it, I have to watch very carefully that I eat enough food such that my blood sugar doesn't reach levels where I pass out if I stand up. It's come close a few times.
At my worst in June 2008, or even perhaps worse times before that, the Center for Disease Control's Body Mass Index (BMI) for my height and weight considered me to be obese. Now I'm am mid-range overweight. I have a further 15lbs to lose if I'm to reach a normal BMI for my height. Personally, I'd just like it if the CDC would stop calling me names.
If I can maintain this rate, I should reach my goal by the last week of June. Even if I can't, I can only hope that I will have learned something in the process, least of all, better eating habits.
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When faced with having to do something potentially challenging, or difficult, or just plain uncomfortable, I try to consider a rule: "Try anything once, if just once." (Note that I make exceptions to this all the time, so please don't try to use this to get me to do things. You wouldn't be the first, anyhow). I write this with the knowledge that I may fail in my goal, either by lack of will or determination, or life will obstruct my path. But if only once I can bring myself to a normal weight with only diet and exercise, and not have to deal with the crushing weight of each failure before, that will have been a great success. Even if it's just once.
I should also note that I am not advocating anorexia or bulimia or any sort of diarrhetic, nor am I practicing any of the aforementioned. I am on a reduced calorie diet which I have constructed, and also try to carefully monitor to make sure I'm not becoming deficient in anything my body needs. Also, while I try to adhere to my plan as much as possible, there is occasion for exception, and also plans for maintenance. Once I achieve my goal, I have every intention to rework my diet to maintain a healthy weight while maintaining the same level of exercise.
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