Filed under: Nutrition | Tags: artery clogging, breakfast, content, fat, great, high, mcdonalds, so very bad for you, tastes
Ok, this calorie tracking is teaching me big things.
Did I mention I hurt myself this morning? (I did) The result of moving slower because I was hurt meant I left the house slower, no time for a breakfast shake.
So I stop by McDonald’s for two sausage burritos. Two can’t hurt can they?
This is going to be really good for me. My fat and cholestorol are shot for the day (the fat will come back into line with a couple of apples and non-fat foods before the day is over) – my but that McDonalds food is bad for you.
And can I just say how nice it is to enter my exercise and have the site recommend how much more I can eat in a day? So. Nice!
I think I’ve been eating way too little – when I get a good workout in I’m burning tons of calories, and when I only eat 1500 calories in a day, and burn 600 in a workout… no wonder I’m grouchy.
It’s been great so far. The first 7 days are free – I think I’m hooked.
Oh, one more thing. The site has improved a ton since I used it a couple of years ago. It’s easy to use, and pretty intuitive. They’ve really streamlined food entry, and improved the graphics. Great stuff.
Here’s the link again if you want to check it out… http://www.myfooddiary.com/
Filed under: Humor, Working Out | Tags: fat, grouchy, guy, gym, help, losing, mean, offering, running, support, treadmill, weight, weight loss, workout
So I’m at the gym this morning – I don’t want to be there. No sleep last night until about 1:30–boy I’ll tell you the alarm goes off pretty early when that’s your bed time…
Then I wake up and my ankle and toe are swollen with arthritis, I can hobble but not walk. Lovely. I promised myself I was going to do this no matter what, so I drag myself down to the gym.
I get on the bike, it’s not bad after a while. I listen to RadioLab podcasts, truly inspiring stuff. So I’m digging it.
Then this guy comes in. A pudgy guy. The most obnoxious gum-chewer yet to walk this planet. I have headphones in, but I can still “hear” him chewing he’s so over-the-top about it. He jumps on a treadmill. Walking at first, then fatboy breaks into a run. And he runs, and runs, and runs. It’s kind of mesmerizing, as his front foot is coming down all of his fat is moving up. A visual symphony of opposing forces.
But he can run.
He can run.
It breaks my heart to see it. I would love to be able to just turn on a treadmill and run. I don’t care if I can only do it for 3 minutes at a time, I want to run. But arthritic ankles have me on a bike instead. So I watch him, chewing his gum in time to his running – wishing…
Now it’s time to get off of my bike, one step and I remember my ankle. I hobble up and down the hallway trying to coax my ankle into working again. As I come back down the hall I notice another guy looking at me.
You know how they look at you, begging for eye contact. Sigh. So I look at him…
He’s younger than me I think. About 6 feet 2 inches tall, pear shaped. He’s wearing a baseball cap. As he talks to me he takes it off to wipe his clearly bald head. He starts off by saying “How are you?”.
I do my first double-take. I think maybe I know him because of the familiar tone he used with me. I don’t–never seen him before in my life.
“I’m OK” I say in a way that means I’m not really OK.
“You know”, he says, “I used to be your size, I know how it feels”.
I start laughing inside. I’m an artist for a living, I’ve got a pretty good grasp of sizes, volumes, how things fit together. Quickly in my mind I grab him with a mouse by one corner and do a shift-drag to scale him up to my height. He’s still about my size! But he’s clearly trying to reach out to me…
“You know”, he continues not noticing my size-comparing smirk, “if you ever need any help, I’m here for you”.
Now he gets a full on double-take from me…
He sees it and says “I know it’s a little strange, but I’ve been down your road, let me know if I can help. I’m here all the time, just ask me”.
God love him. I’m sure he’s lost a lot of weight and thought he was doing a good thing. Between no sleep, a work out I didn’t want to do, watching fatboy run like I wish I could, and a body that seems to be bent on keeping me from accomplishing my goals just made it seem surreal to me. “Just come talk to me, I’m here all the time”??? Crazy.
He didn’t tell me his name. I didn’t ask.
P.S. Sorry if this one seems mean. That’s how it is sometimes, you know?
Doug Losing Weight 