It’s Not Me, It’s Him, Right?

I’m 72% of the Man I Used to Be

I have done it.  My 7 day average weight was 162 this morning, which means I have finally hit my goal weight and have lost 63 pounds from what was likely my peak weight 18 months ago.  I started half-heartedly to lose the weight last April and went into high gear starting around Memorial Day.  On June 12 I weighed myself on a new scale and clocked in at 209.2.  Today, I clocked in at 161.4 and a seven-day average of 162.0.  I’ve been asked how I did it…so here’s what I did.

I ate less and exercised more.

Sorry it’s not more exciting than that, but it does sound harder than that.  So here’s what I did to make that possible.

You have to constantly remind yourself you want this. Keep the excuses to the minimum.  It’s OK to miss a day of exercise or eat more than you should once or twice a week, but you can’t continue to justify it.  And it will take longer the more you make the excuses.

Find your Achilles heel, and minimize it.  Mine was actually a joint one — snack chips and sugar.  I cut both down considerably.  You may want to journal for a week before you start, see what are easy cuts, and take them out.

It’s the calories stupid. Don’t overthink whether or not it has too many carbs, or it’s too fatty.  As long as you balance higher-fiber foods in, those will balance the carbs/fats.  It doesn’t mean continue them at what you have done before, but having some bread will not throw off whatever delicate equilibrium you were trying for.  Basic rule of thumb for me was your daily calorie intake should average 7.5 times your current weight, and make sure to get fruits and vegetables every day.  Go too high and you’re not going to lose anything.  Go too low and your metabolism will be slower than the relay race at the Molina family reunion.

You will not notice anything. Really, you don’t.  You see yourself all the time.  You’re going to be losing at best 4 ounces a day.  People who see you occasionally will be your biggest encouragement, since they will see you at 5-10 pound loss intervals.

You will have hunger pains. Deal with it.  I learned to counter that with either low calorie hard candies or fiber bars.  I’ve eaten lots of fiber bars.

You have to truly exercise. You should do exercise that will at least burn 100 calories a day.  For me that was a interval walk/jog combo that generally covered 1.25 miles in 16 minutes.  Also make sure you do it first thing in the morning.  It’s out of the way, and you can’t use the day got too busy later as an excuse.

Weigh yourself every day, but don’t sweat it day to day. What I ended up doing was weighing myself every morning after the exercise, but the number that mattered was the 7-day average.  Generally, that was half-a-pound higher than the daily, but it was steady drop.  If you follow only the daily fluctuations, you will only frustrate yourself.  And keep the numbers in a journal so you can make cute charts like this one:

The slight uptick was a two week vacation where I did not weigh myself.

Save splurging for eating out. The only time I really splurged was when I would eat out.  And that would mean still ordering the healthiest thing on the menu I would like.  Even the most innocent things on a menu will clock in with a 4-digit calorie figure.  And if you have to resort to fast food because you have no other choice, lay off the fries.  Pop is also pretty dangerous: 120 calories for every 8 ounces.

When you’re done, some habits you will not be able to bring back. You’ll just have to accept that.  You’re not young forever.

Hopefully if you’re thinking about this, you will take the steps necessary to go for it.  I’ve gone from a 40 waist to a 33.  I have not been a 33 since junior high.  You won’t need as much sleep and you won’t be as irritable.  And those things your doctor nags you about (cholesterol, triglycerides) will take care of themselves.

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Apparently the Geography Bee Winners at NBC Don’t Work Weekends

NBC’s Sunday Today for January 9, 2011 live from Hartsfield International Airport:

And the associated Weather Map:

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Days #10-#13: What in the bleep is a JetHawk?

Finally, on Sunday, we reached the end of Route 66.  It wasn’t without it’s tribulations, because apparently Santa Monica is super busy on a Sunday night.  The attraction of the 3rd Street Promenade and the pier made it very difficult to park, navigate and walk around.  On the way to the end, we stopped at Souplantation, one of the better California establishments, known for its healthy food and its German like efficiency in running a all-you-can-eat kind of place.  We also stopped at the La Brea Tar Pits (love that smell!) and the Farmer’s Market.  I was able to pick up some 7-Up marinade and A&W Root Beer infused BBQ sauce at a store that only sold sauces.

Monday was pretty much a day just to bop around the L.A. area and give Susan a brief glimpse that all is wonderful with Southern California.  For a nice final good meal, we headed over to Paradise Cove in Malibu, home of the wayyy too big portions and the beach where’s it $25 to park, or $3 if you eat at the restaurant.  Susan finally was happy she was in weather that was considered temperate, while the restaurant had set up heaters for the outside diners and some people had sweaters again.  The proof continues.

Sadly, Tuesday meant Susan had to go back home.  Even more sad, that flight was a 7 am flight, which meant a 5 am wakeup to get to the airport.  Since it’s hard to just go back to bed after that, I did my laundry after dropping her off and my workout, meaning I truly did get more done before 9 am than most people do all day.  I also stopped in to the Burbank office to slog through 433 e-mails, and wonder who stole the ceiling.  Afterward I played trivia board games based on the 70s, 80s and 90s.  We both realized our age as the 90s game took a lot longer than the 70s or 80s games.

A lot of Wednesday was spent getting the Ted Marshall entry forms ready, meeting my cousin for lunch and attempting to golf.  I wasn’t really in the mood for a true 9, so I went to a par 3.  This par 3 totaled 664 yards, but the deceiving part was the course itself.  You were given only a sand wedge and a putter.  I realize I really suck at golf, but it’s very difficult for me to hit a sand wedge 75 yards.  The greens were the size of a kiddie pool and impossible to stick a ball on, and the putting surfaces were unreadable.  Not a pleasurable time by any meanings, thank God it only took 35 minutes.

After that debacle, I headed up to Lancaster, in the lovely Antelope Valley, to see the Lancaster JetHawks (A for the Astros) face the San Jose Giants.  First off, why isn’t this team just named the Antelopes?  I realize that the town is beholden to the aerospace industry, but why pass up advertising possibilities like “get a beer and see the Antelopes play”?  The team plays in Clear Channel Stadium, which used to be the best stadium in town, but they proceeded to buy other stadiums in town and turned them into clones of each other.

The game was sort of one for the ages, with the home team victorious 11-9 on a walk-off homer, coming from behind from a 7-0 deficit in the 2nd.  However, a lot of that comeback was just to dreadful pitching and fielding.  You did have the dichotomy of a 5-11, 210 batter facing a 5-11, 150 pitcher (I’m somewhere in between).  Sadly, the “minor league experience” was pretty bad.  The between inning stuff was pretty lame when they bothered to do it at all.  They had pom-pom girls rocking to the same terrible music over and over again.  And worse of all, I couldn’t buy a ball for Craig, since they didn’t sell any.  Also of concern was people coming to the stadium with jackets and blankets, since I was clad only in a shirt and shorts.  Although it got a touch cool, it was never uncomfortable and didn’t require extra layers.  Wimps.

After some work today, it’s on to the Matt O.-infused portion of the trip, where two people who live 60 miles apart have to travel 2,500 miles to spend time together.

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Days #8 and #9 — Hole in the Ground

First discovered by the ancient Pueblo people, first seen by a European in 1540 and championed by Teddy Roosevelt as a national treasure, The Grand Canyon now serves as America’s preeminent tribute to riding a bus.  Oh, you occasionally see a beautiful big hole, but you will mostly see a sign reminding you not to stand beyond the white line.

The South rim of the canyon is accessible by only one route — Arizona 64, a mostly two lane road that is a long ways away from any real towns.  As you get to the front door in order to pay, you are greeted by a friendly Yooper who is just thrilled to see someone else speak English.  The first lesson you learn about the Grand Canyon is that Americans don’t seem to visit the place, it is simply a stop on the way to Disneyland for the the citizens of the European Union.

When you park your car, the first thing you do is hop onto a bus.  This first bus is deceiving, because it’s not very full and it goes to its destination quite quickly.  We first decide to go on a guided tour, which would start at one of the gift shops.  The nice lady, although clearly enthused about her job, bored us to tears in about 10 minutes waxing about pine nuts and juniper trees.  We left the tour and started out on our own, although my escape involved a brief jump into the cavern and a long climb back up.

Being at altitude, the first thing you want to do is to make sure you have enough water.  And most stores in the park sell a 1.5 liter bottle of water for $2, which is not bad for concession prices.  One problem — they do not chill the water.  It is only sold at room temperature.  So although it seems great when you buy the water at 10:30, by 5:00 you are putting the bottle inside fire pits just to cool it down a bit.

After some looks around the center area of the park, it’s time to go out into the “red trails”, a series of nine points spaced anywhere from 1/2 mile to 2 miles apart.  After the second point and the requisite pictures, we decide since the 3rd point is close to the 2nd, we can hike that one.  Big…honking…mistake.   This really zapped our energy.   Which means from that point on, it’s bus time between stops.

However, the buses on the “red trails” are much more crowded, don’t come as frequently and involve frequent invocations by the driver to not stand in the white area.  These invocations generally went unheeded, as the perpetrators of said infraction were pre-teen Europeans with little command of English.  Since the bus driver would not leave until this was rectified, one of the token Americans on the bus would simply nudge the kid until everything was kosher.

Another fun amenity of the red trail is only the furthest stop from the center of the park — Hermits’ Rest — features any sort of bathroom or refreshments.  So our plan to stop at all nine points ended up being stopping at 5 of the first 6 and then an immediate trip to Hermits to keep ourselves from going insane due to altitude sickness and dehydration, and also to put our water bottle in the snack bar’s microwave to cool it down a bit.  Although I’m in much better shape than I was 4 months ago — I was still not in shape for this.  And we’ve begun to believe that Susan is actually Inuit and cannot handle anything above 80 degrees.  And when you see a family of six coming in on bicycles from other parts, you just want to cry.

At this point, we had decided that people were no longer our friends and we needed to go to a quieter place in the park.  However, the place we decided was 45 miles away from our current location, which meant two bus rides and a 28 mile car jaunt.  There is nothing more fun than being packed into a standing-room only bus where nobody speaks English.  This lasted 40 minutes.  We then had another 25 minute bus ride to our car, and standing for both legs.  We finally get to the car and head over to the lighthouse.  We would think the Watchtower would have less people.

Sadly, we were mistaken.  Even more families with little control of their spawn and ruining what should have been a nice, reflective sunset.  Also scaring the crap out of me was Susan taking pictures a foot from the ledge.  She will contend she was farther away, but as soon as I get the images back from NASA I will be vindicated.  Once the sun finally disappeared over the north rim, people actually applauded.  Which is good I guess, because if the sunset didn’t happen, humanity would be doomed.  It’s important to be thankful for the little things.

After a long drive back, it was time to get back to the Canyon Country Inn for a quick night of sleep before heading out to California.  And nothing says country hospitality more than no air conditioning and Otis Spunkmeyer muffins.  To sort of keep ourselves at least in the running for a Bronze medal for Route 66 travels, we at least did the Williams-Kingman jog on 66.  At one stop in the gift shop, we ran into yet another German family.  Why are we encountering so many Germans?  And why does even cute back-and-forth between a mother and her daughter sound like threats of imminent danger?

We then head into the fun and excitement of the Eastern California leg.  Deciding that we had to do something out of the car, we head up to Mitchell Cave, a former mine about 100 miles east of Barstow.  This was a 16-mile trek where we encountered not a single car.  Getting up to the cave, Susan took some pictures of the vista and cacti.  On the way down, Susan all of a sudden yelled “Cows!”  Thinking I was about to hit a cow, but saw none, I then realize she wanted to take a picture of cows she somehow saw.  So, despite the fact we were in 93 degree desert heat, she somehow convinced four cows to pose for a picture.  I was freaking out because of their proximity.  Although I do have the cow insurance rider on the rental car, it does not cover Longhorns.

We finally decided after 400+ miles to call it for the day, and stopped in Victorville.  We are in an absolutely amazing Comfort Suites for a low price, so we’re guessing money laundering has gone upscale.  If you may remember from a previous day’s entry, I had great joy remembering a restaurant from the past.  Susan had great memories of El Pollo Loco when living in South Florida, so we decided to eat at one here.  After having a frankly crappy meal, we wondered what went wrong, since the menu was nothing like she remembered.  We then found out that the place she went to was actually a different chain, and now goes under the name Pollo Tropical.  Sadly for us, this chain confines itself to Florida in such cities as West Palm Beach, Orlando, North Bergen and Hartford.

Up next: Our final jaunt to Santa Monica (and we promise to actually use Route 66 for the remainder).

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Days #6 and #7: Cuckoo for Kokopeli

First a reminder, although today’s post has pictures, I’m really not in the picture business.  If you want to see great pictures, please check out Susan’s blog: http://toledonative-route66.blogspot.com/

Day #6 (Wednesday) started out in Santa Rosa, New Mexico and the goal of the day was to spend the day in Albuquerque.  A short day of driving, pretty much nothing to see on the way.  First stop of the day once we got near ABQ was Turquoise Trail, which reaches its peak with a trip up to Sadina Peak, a 10K peak featuring one of the easier mountain roads I’ve encountered.  At the bottom of the hill was the Tinkertown Museum.  The only thing I will say about that place is never, ever go to the Tinkertown Museum.

Once we entered the Breaking Badlands, I entrusted the trip photographer/navigator to take some pictures of some of the sights of the fine TV show.  First up is the White household, which I’m sure they never get tired of people driving by:

Then a visit to put a call into Saul.  It’s actually a vacant store in a iffy strip mall a few blocks away from the White House, so just imagine the giant inflated Uncle Sam on top:

Next up is a picture that if you’re a fan of the show, you may sort of recognize…

…as another food location.  This mural is inside the front door.  Strangely, this location (one of 15 Twisters locations in ABQ) is next to an ostrich and goat pen.

We also tried to take a picture of the Hot Dog place where Jesse buys a gun (among other scenes), but when we drove by the lights were off.

Later in the evening we visited Isotopes Park, home of the AAA Albuquerque Isotopes and farm team of the Dodgers.  The opponent was the Sacramento River Cats, the main farm team of the Athletics.  By seeing the lineup for the Athletics I finally found out the Tigers are done screwing with Jeff Larish.  Hopefully he gets a chance with them.  Nothing really special with the food, other than I tried BBQ nachos.  Apparently the key here is volume, as the kids around us were constantly being fed junk food well into the later innings.  We also missed getting a t-shirt from the cannon by one seat.

The night was spent in the Plaza Inn, which was likely a Howard Johnsons in a past life.  I have to ask why in 2010 does a hotel room only have two outlets, and neither of them with three prongs?

Thursday’s drive began a long trip to get to near the Grand Canyon.  We stopped in Gallup for lunch, the town Bob Dylan use to claim he was from, and saw a wonderful downtown of run down Native craft store after run down Native craft store.  Crossing into Arizona, we went through Petrified Forest, where we experienced at least three different weather patterns through the 28 mile trip, and the world’s least competent gift shop clerk.   In Holcomb on the way to reconnect to I-40, we came across the 2010 winner of the “Best Reuse of an Old Motel Sign” award:

After skipping over Meteor Crater ($15 to see a hole in the ground), we stopped for dinner in Flagstaff.  I have to ask people more familiar than us, is there anything negative with that place?  Home prices too high?  Hard to find a job?  Just curious.

After that, it was a quick jaunt to our Bed and Breakfast in Williams…which does not have working air conditioning…in Arizona.  Tomorrow we’ll spend the whole day at the Grand Canyon.  I’ll let you know tomorrow if a Toyota Camry can jump the chasm.

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Day #5: We Go Rogue

First off, a sad part of irony I forgot yesterday.  We were eating at a somewhat 50s-themed diner in Weatherford, Oklahoma.  You know, Oklahoma, “Native America”.  This maybe a good time to make sure whatever music service you are using doesn’t play “Running Bear”.  Just a suggestion.

After four days of doing this, we have come to a revelation.  This is actually a bit boring.  And once you get past Tulsa, it’s pretty barren, and most of US-66 is frontage road to I-40.  So, we’ve made a decision.  We know this is going to disqualify us from any Route 66 medal qualification, but we would rather travel leisurely than rushed.  So we’re cheating and using the interstate, but still going through the major towns.

So other than occasional photo-ops at rest stops, there’s nothing really to talk about until Amarillo.  We eat at The Big Texan, a kitschy place that is famous for offering a 72 oz. steak for free if you can eat it in an hour.  We found out that in addition to the steak, you must eat a baked potato, a salad, a roll and three pieces of shrimp.  As we were seated, another gentleman wanted to try this, so they seat him on a stage and start the clock.  As we were leaving, he had 6 minutes to go and pretty much no shot to finish.  He still had a significant amount of steak, although he had finished everything else.  For the record, I finished most of my BBQ sandwich and corn in 16 minutes.

Continuing on in Amarillo, I happened to find the only credit union in the country without an ATM.  After finally finding one with an ATM, we then moved on to the Cadillac Ranch.  For the uninitiated, it’s pretty much where people who are normally law abiding can spray paint anything: old cars, the ground, a poodle.

Unfortunately, my luggage became nonfunctional.  Amazingly, the towns we’ve been in lately have been too small even for a Walmart or a Target.  So until I can get to a town that has a store to purchase said product, I’m reduced to using a large pillowcase I had brought for dirty clothes.  All I need is the stick and I will have a complete bindle.  If that’s not the true Route 66 experience, I don’t know what is.

There’s really nothing much else to speak of, we’re presently in Santa Rosa, NM, about 90 min. east of Albuquerque.  This is 60 miles more than we intended to drive today, this allows us to be a little more time in ABQ tomorrow, where we plan to go to an Isotopes game and have a fine meal at Los Pollos Hermanos with my long lost buddy Saul Goodman.

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Days #3 and #4 –

(Sorry, too tired last night to post)

The third day was the day to get Missouri done and over with see everything Missouri offers.  However, my highlight of the day barely has to do with anything really Missouri-ish.  When I lived in Colorado, I loved a semi-national pizza chain called Godfather’s Pizza, especially the Taco Pizza.  I would have one practically every week.  Unfortunately, they’re regional now, and I hadn’t had the sweet ambrosia of mediocre ingredients put together by surly teens in 7 years.

While stopping to get fuel in the middle of nowhere, I noticed they had an express location in the gas station.   Which means, if they have it in the gas station, it has to have real locations nearby.  Susan was kind and did a search for me, and we found locations in Ozark.  Now, I’ve been burned by this before, found them on the internet only to find the location gone.

Unfortunately, that happened yet again.  Get to the location, and it’s empty.  However, we try the second location, and success!  They still exist!  They still make Taco pizza!  Godfather’s is one of those buffet-type locations, where it’s cheaper to just get what you want via the buffet then actually ordering the specific pie.  I get two slices, and they’re just as I remember them.  I commented to Susan that “if this was just thin crust, it would be perfect!”  I go to get one more slice, and it is thin crust.  Life is good.  Perfection has been achieved.

Perfection lasted two hours.  We go off the Mother Road to go to Branson.  Oh…dear…God!  There is nothing like going to a town where it is encouraged to not walk around, you must drive to go anywhere!  Look at the billboards of acts you never heard of or thought they were dead!  In driving around, we decide we will try two things: an IMAX show (it’s hot outside) and a place called The Toy Museum.  The IMAX had nothing we wanted to see, and the Toy Museum was closed on Sundays.  Absolute total waste of time (sorry Aaron).  At least it’s off the list.  And why is there a Starbucks in the Marie Osmond theater?  The headliner is bound by religious beliefs not to enjoy their signature product.

On the way back to 66, we decide to go the long way so Susan can add Arkansas to her state list.  I’ve driven through the Rockies many times, the California mountains as well, but these were probably the worst.  Not because they were steep or dangerous, it’s because there were no turnout lanes.  And if you get behind a slow car, you’re stuck.  Eventually, this one car had created a trail of 18 cars, of which I was #3.  Finding a rare straightaway, I did something you should not try at home kids.  I passed two cars, and going 85 in a 40 zone to do it.

But I had…just…run…out…of…patience.  One good note, we highly recommend the Onyx Cave near Eureka Springs, Arkansas.  First, you’re welcomed by an older gent who clearly needs to get out of the gift shop more.  Then, you’re given headphones which tell you what you’re seeing as you progress through tour.  And most importantly, it was 57° in the cave.  And to wrap up the night, we stayed at the most tricked out La Quinta Inn in the country, where we were very appreciative the Clinton (MI) 12-year old softball team was nice and quiet.

The fourth day started with a quick jaunt through Kansas, a whopping 13 miles before coming into Oklahoma.  Most of the Eastern portion in the state is a 4 lane limited access freeway, so there isn’t quite the charm nor the attractions, but you do start to get the Southern hospitality at the ones you visit, which translates to “we will not let you leave this attraction until we talk for 15 minutes.”  Tulsa was unfortunately still Tulsa.  Just outside Oklahoma City in Arcadia features a store called Pops, which boasts over 200 pops available for purchase.  Ignoring the temptation to say I bought Vernors in Oklahoma, we did select some wacky ones including Leninade.  I know if I had several of my prior travel comrades with me, we would still be there.

Oklahoma City was a more somber trip as our stop was the Murrah memorial.  Even though it is open air, the din of the city noise doesn’t seem to be heard when in the memorial.  Leaving OKC, I did something that will stun everyone.  Put the kids to bed, alert the media and check for flying pigs: Susan drove a leg.

Tomorrows trip will finish up Oklahoma, running through Texas and the Cadillac Ranch, and trickling into the Mountain Time Zone.

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Day #2 – Illinois Bugaloo

Well, the theme of forgetting stuff continued.  Only this time, it was not right in front of me.  I forgot my medicine.  After a very expensive trip to the pharmacy, Susan and I were off to visit the wonderfulness of Route 66 in the Land of Lincoln.

Leaving Joliet, we finally start to see the ruralness of 66.  Woo, a big spaceman.  Picture time.  Woo, an homage to Betty Boop and James Dean.  Picture time.  The Route 66 Museum in Pontiac.  Stop off and browse, plus picture time.  Look at the clock and the odometer.  We’ve done 75 miles in 2 hours.  May have done the schedule wrong, we’re not getting to St. Louis until Tuesday at this rate.

But before I move on, I feel for the town of Pontiac.  They are trying to revitalize their entire downtown based on Route 66 tourism.  This looks like a bad idea.  We were the only visitors to the museum.  A trolley waiting for people to drive through downtown sat empty except for a very lonely driver.  There’s a reason nobody wanted the Museum or the trolley, they didn’t work when they existed on the route, and they’re really not going to work when it’s 8 blocks south of 66.

Later in the day, we stopped in Atlanta, which knew how to do tourism right.  Big statue of Paul Bunyan.  Fine.  Octogonal library.  Check.  Grain “museum”.  Works for me (for about 3 minutes).  And then there’s the Palm Tree Inn.  Because when you think of central Illinois farm towns, you think Palm Trees.  I was also introduced to but did not partake in the concept of the ponyshoe, which is a slice of bread, a meat, covered in fries and then a cheese sauce.  An old me would have eaten that in a heartbeat (which likely would have been my last).  Instead, we ate sensible and moved on.

After my usual trip to the Lincoln Burial Site to coincide with the FIFA World Cup, we realized we were a little short of time and needed to do a quick freeway jaunt to catch up.  As soon as we got on, they closed the freeway for 30 minutes to take care of an accident.  Oops.  We get back on the mother road, stop at a bunny-themed attraction that the proprietor was nice enough to let us go in after hours for a few minutes, and we moved on to St. Louis.

Plan here, and only plan here, was the Arch.  Problem #1 – Cardinals game starting in a hour.  Lots and lots of traffic.  Problem #2 – Recent high waters closed a key road to promptly getting to Arch parking, so had to park farther away.  Problem #3 – Because of problems 1 and 2, could not get to the Arch before they stopped taking elevator rides.  So, to drown out our disappointment, we had some nice concrete at Ted Drewes.

Before turning in for the night, we had to have something resembling dinner.  So we stopped at The Lion’s Choice, I had the okapi and Susan had the zebra.  Apparently lions like their food real salty.  We’re staying the night in Cuba, have yet to find any plantains.  Tomorrow’s “highlight” will be an off-66 trip to Branson.  Sadly, Andy Williams does not perform in August, but we’ll have to settle for Your Huckleberry Friend, an Andy Williams tribute show.

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Route 66 Day #1

There’s been a disturbing trend in my life in the past few days.  I am losing things that are not lost.  Yesterday, it was a putter that was clearly in my golf bag, for some reason I did not see it.  Unfortunately, the trend continues.

While my kitchen is being remodeled, I didn’t want to have to deal with the mess, so what better way to go away for a bit and drive to California on side roads.  And what better side road than Route 66.  So with Susan in tow, we first needed to pick up a rental car.  Trying to find a one-way rental is near impossible in Ann Arbor, so off to Metro airport, first in her car, and back to my house in separate cars.

And a side note to Budget Rent-a-Car — we’re on to you.  We asked for a Focus, they wouldn’t give us one for a one-way rental, it’s too popular.  So they trotted out a Nissan Versa, which I believe was re-purposed from those bullpen cars of the 70s.  Seeing that the “trunk” would barely had room for Susan’s purse, let alone two suitcases and two bags, we had no choice to upgrade.  Very sneaky sis.

We sort of made a side bet of who would get back first, since she doesn’t think I drive aggressive enough and my shortcut to get around Plymouth Road isn’t really a short cut.  So, as we leave and get on I-94, I get quite the lead.  Things are looking great.  And then for some reason I think I need to feel my pocket for phone.  And I can’t find it.  Did I leave it at the rental car place?  Did I drop it under the seat?  I better find out now before it’s too late?  So I had to pull over to a rest area to look.  I eventually found it in an obscure place to keep a phone (the pocket), but now Susan had the lead.  I nearly pulled off the miraculous comeback, but I was beaten by about 45 seconds.

After a trip on I-94 to the starting point, we first met Greg and Kirsti for a fine lunch.  Being that the rental car debacle cost us some time, we had to hurry if we were going to hit one of the museums before they close.  Unfortunately, the traffic* prevented us from getting there to get our money’s worth, so plan B was to walk around Millennium Plaza.   Susan took some fine pictures, including some very, er, um interesting gifts from China, and we were ready to start the Route 66 trip.

We got to Adams at Michigan at 5:40 pm.  We got to Joliet, IL at 7:34 pm.  That’s 44 miles, in 114 minutes.  I may have planned this poorly.  We did have an ambulance delay, plus a turnaround for some pictures, and some travel time going to the not-on-66 hotel, so let’s say 43 miles in 104 minutes.  This allegedly gets faster soon.  And although Illinois really does promote Route 66, and actually has it signed, the business strip so far was a bit disappointing.  A semi-wacky hot dog place is probably the only “highlight” so far.

Coming Up Tomorrow: We’ll log a trip to Lincoln-Land, see the St. Louis Golden Arch presented by McDonalds and farms.  Lots and lots of farms.

*Some of the traffic to blame was because of a Bon Jovi concert.  At Soldier Field.   Which seats 61,000.  For two nights.  I weep for this country.

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90% of the Man I Used to Be

There’s photographic evidence of me being normal sized, but nothing really after 1976.  I don’t really remember when the gut appeared, or too many of my weights of my younger self.  It’s too depressing, other than it has been too high since the 3rd grade.  Not being athletically gifted, any attempt at organized sports was a bad one.  Which really hurts someone who loves to play as much as I do.  My marching band career was also hurt by my ability to even maintain a basic fitness level.

In my late 20s, I was playing dek/floor hockey twice a week and mixing in other sports as well like softball and soccer, and I finally got my weight down to 180.  Now, I wasn’t an athlete by any stretch, I wasn’t muscular, but at least by that point I was just a bit pudgy.

However, in the course of about 18 months, all of my sport playing opportunities fizzled either due to league demise or injury, so the athletic endeavors stopped.  And within no time, I was up to 230, and stayed somewhere between 220-230 for most of my 30s.

With a slight change in lifestyle by 38 I got my weight down to 215.  However, I began a long-term relationship.  Dating means eating out a lot, and the weight was back up to 225 in no time, and I just about had given up trying.  By the beginning of my 40th year, I had stopped going on the scale altogether.

Despite my resignation, things were still bothering me.  I couldn’t stand up for more than 5 minutes without being in pain.  I was perpetually tired.  I was cranky even by my standards.  Something had to change.

5 weeks ago I stepped on a scale for a dose of depressing reality and I noticed I was down to 216.  I figured that I must be doing something right, or it’s the medication, so I figured let’s take this seriously.  I figured out a few strategies to see if it would help me go further:

• Cutting out most sugar.  I miss the ice cream, I miss the weekly muffin, I miss the chocolate.  But I had to make a decision of which was more important, a two minute slight uptake in happiness, or the chance at a healthy body.  ‘B’ wins every time.  If I keep it to once or twice a week, I can still have a small fix.
• Removing/substituting minor elements from meals.  My breakfast cereal is now very plain and very fibrous.  I don’t eat potato/tortilla chips with lunch (unless they’re baked).  I try to make dinner less starchy and more leafy.  This is difficult for someone who abhors most vegetables and is indifferent to most fruits, but I am trying.
• Getting off my ass and doing something.  I started by running 1/4 mile a day in the morning.  I’m now up to 6/10 of a mile and I try to add 1/10th a week.  I know some of you do multiple miles a day, but for someone who has done nothing for 10 years, baby steps.  Soon I’ll be adding other workout elements as well.
• Skipping/curtailing the occasional meal.  If I know the day is going to involve a heavy meal (i.e. eating out, social event), I try to make one other meal of that day more of a snack.

It’s all sensible, and it’s working.  I’m not eating only grapefruit, I’m not doing a power flush, I’m not drinking chemical shakes all day long.  But since Memorial Day weekend, I have lost 14 pounds: 216 to 202.  And even though it thrilled me to say that my scale read 199 this morning, I use a 7 day average to track progress, so I consider myself at 202.  Using the average keeps me from getting depressed if I bump up one day.

I’ve now set what may be a somewhat unrealistic goal of 165.  I probably haven’t been 165 since Jr. High, and that’s when I was 5’6″.  I got down to the mid 170s my senior year of college — 32″ bass drums and lots of marching will help that out, and I remember even then I was still a little pudgy, so I know it’s not out of the realm.  My hope is to hit this by March 1, 2011.  That’s 34 weeks from now and I have 37 pounds to go.

In the meantime — does anyone need any size 40 pants?

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