Fit-To-Fat-Fit Blog: Day 2

Posted on January 10, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

Last year, I missed one day of Fit4Change training. This year, I’ve already missed one day — today. I know, I know – bad Marshall, right? Go ahead and beat me with a wet noodle. Because I couldn’t agree with you more. I believe what Woody Allen said: “80 percent of success is just showing up.” But I have a good excuse. I’m on the road. So let me talk Scaleabout something that is as important as exercise in my battle with obesity: Diet.

By the title Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit, you might have guessed I was once fit before I got fat. In fact in 2010, I ran a marathon and weighed 195 lbs. But when my job changed and I picked up a second one to make ends meet, I started drinking Cokes to give me energy. I might as well have pumped lard into my gut. Oct. 2010, I weighed 195. March 2011 (when I started drinking regular Cokes) I weighed 220. By December 2011, I was 248.

And I was absolutely miserable.

When I started Fit4Change, I bought into the whole program. It wasn’t about just exercise; it was a lifestyle change. I quit sodas immediately. For two weeks I would have killed gladiator-style for a six-pack of 20-oz, frosty, fizzy Cokes. But that craving eventually passed. I also greatly reduced the amounts of simple carbohydrates I ate. Breads, high fructose corn syrup, candy, desserts, fried foods — they all went out the window. When I went to a restaurant, I looked for the healthy menu. When I HAD to go to a fast food restaurant, I’d look for something like a grilled chicken sandwich or a low-calorie salad.  You don’t realize how addicted you get to junk food.  After a couple of weeks of “withdrawal,” I felt amazingly better.  I had energy levels I never knew I had before.

I also changed how I ate. No longer did I gorge myself on big meals. I would three smaller meals with healthy snacks every two hours. My goal was to keep my blood sugar even and not spike up and down. Part of my problem was that I’d crash around 3 p.m. and eat junk food to wake back up.

After the 12-week program was over, I stuck with my new lifestyle.  And now, one year later, I’ve kept the weight off. (and my waist is as small as it was when I was 16.)

Now, I will admit, I will eat pizza occasionally (although I won’t during the next 12 weeks.) And I will eat a hamburger every once in a while. I cut my portions way back when I do. But all and all, I have successful modified my diet and my lifestyle.  I don’t WANT food that is bad for me.  It’s no longer punishment to eat things that are good for me. I crave healthy food.

It started with a few simple choices.  They snowballed into a better life.  One bite at a time.

 

 

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Thursday Free-For-All

Posted on January 10, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

Good morning! Looks like another soggy, damp, moldy day! Remember to tune into the Dave Ramsey show today (1180 am in Jackson) to hear me talking about Fried Chicken & Wine.

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Keep going

Posted on January 9, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

HopeI had a bad day yesterday.

I know, I know — wah. Put on my big boy pants and quit whining.

Just wanted to let you know I have them sometimes. I know you do, too.  I mention it because I got a long and passionate message from someone who had done everything right in his life and still managed to get laid off. And of course, life came crashing down around him. Now, like so many Americans who have had their worlds rocked, he is struggling to rebuild.

I told him to keep swinging.  I love Sir Winston Churchill’s quote, “If you are going through hell, keep going.”

Sometimes when I look in the rearview mirror, I get down.  But there’s a reason why your rearview mirror is much smaller than your windshield.  I just quit looking behind me and press on. Because greatness in on the horizon. How do I know? The odds are in our favor.

Just my 2¢ on a gloomy Wednesday morning.

 

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Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit Blog: Day 1

Posted on January 9, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

116918_600It was, to quote the great Yogi Berra, deja vu all over again.

I couldn’t sleep and crawled out of bed before the alarm could rudely go off.  It was 3:45 and I didn’t want to be late.  I ran the deer gauntlet and made the sleepy drive to JSU.  I walked in to the Walter Payton Center and checked in.  I saw old friends and we said hello.  Paul Lacoste gathered us up and gave us our marching orders for the morning.  And soon we were running around the the gym, warming up.  I looked around and laughed.

It was like the last eight months never happened.

But there are some major differences. Twelve months ago, I weighed 248 lbs. and could barely make it around the gym floor while running. I prayed we’d stop so I could catch my breath.And 12 months ago, I nearly passed out before we stretched.

I watched one of the new members struggle.  I wanted to go over and console him.  “It’s going to be OK — eventually. Keep at it. Your body can do amazing things. Your mind is a liar.”

I didn’t.  But I will.  Because as I watched him, I saw me.  I saw a person who was in the fast lane headed toward a heart attack.  What a difference a year makes. Paul’s program is hard. But Paul’s program works — if you don’t fight it. Two weeks into my program last year, I quit fighting it. That’s when I started seeing results.

Am I one of the elite athletes in the room? No.  But I will work like one. We did fitness tests today and I can tell you my core strength and upper body strength are lacking.  I didn’t do as well running as I would have liked either: But my left knee was barking at me the whole time. I’ll continue to rehab it and as it heals, my running will get stronger.

Paul Lacoste talks about the next level a lot.  That’s why I’m back. I’ve lost my 50 lbs. (although I plan to lose 15  more). So this time around, I have a different mission.  It’s more mental than physical this time around.  I’m mentally exhausted and need to take my career in another direction.  Getting up at 3:45 and working out full blast is a good start. Never underestimate the power of discipline when you are facing change.  Goals set physically are goals that are set mentally.

I finished my one mile run (9:40 with my shoes coming untied twice and a bad knee) and headed to the locker room. As I was sitting there with MPB’s Ezra Wall and Rep. Herb Frierson, I said, “It seems like we never left.”

It was good to be back with old friends.  And now I’m looking forward to the challenges the next 12 weeks brings.

 

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Wednesday Free-For-All

Posted on January 9, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

Good morning! It’s nasty out there, so be careful.

Today was my first day of Fit4Change. The next twelve weeks will be tough, but life changing.

 

Calm on the Reservoir

Calm on the Reservoir

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Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit Blog: Benchmarks

Posted on January 8, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey
Paul Lacoste speaks to the troops.

Paul Lacoste speaks to the troops.

Today was the first day of Fit4Change. Both the 5 a.m. and the 6 a.m. groups met this afternoon at the Capitol to get tested so we could have a baseline to begin the program.  We heard from Fit4Change leader Paul Lacoste (who looks good as he battles back from West Nile) and several of the sponsors.  Then we went and got some baseline health figures. I’ll compare these to the numbers from 12 weeks from now.

Mine were:

Cholesterol: 162 (up from 154 two weeks ago).

Good Cholesterol: 42 (low, but higher than what it has been in the past).

Triglycerides: 82

Blood Pressure: 126/72  (it was 110/62 a couple of weeks ago).

Heart rate: 62 beats per minute.

Waist: 34 inches (it was 40 this time last year)

Hips: 39 inches

Reach: 14 inches

Weight: 210 lbs. (fully clothed)

 

Other than a bum left knee, I’m in much better shape going into it than I was last year.  But I also have knowledge of how tough it will be.  Tomorrow morning, I’ll be getting up at 3:45 a.m. and heading in to take my life to the next level.  For the next 12 weeks, I’ll be working to once again change my life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Meeting the King

Posted on January 8, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

KingIt was an average January morning: Cool with a brilliant blue sky.  Tupelo, Mississippi had never looked finer. All the hard work and renovation downtown had paid off. Business was booming. Buildings and streets were tidy.  I parked my car near City Hall. My son and I got out and walked to the east.

If we had walked a couple of miles, we would have made it to Elvis Presley’s birthplace, a small shotgun house east of town. But we decided to stop at his statue instead.  Sculpted by gifted Mississippi sculptor Bill Beckwith, the statue mimics Roger Marshutz’s iconic photo of Elvis’ 1956 homecoming Tupelo Fairground concert. The statue had become an instant tourist attraction.    My son, 12, knew a little bit about Elvis, but not much.  Being of the Justin Bieber generation, he understood little of Elvis’ impact on the musical world.  “If there hadn’t been an Elvis, there wouldn’t have been the Beatles.” I quoted John Lennon’s famous quote about the King. Of course, the Beatles dethroned him, leading him to his ultimate demise.

“I’ve always felt a bit sorry for Elvis,” I said. I really wasn’t addressing my son. It was more of a blanket statement — a statement cast at the feet of the statue. It was almost a confession before the King on a frosty January morning.

“Why?” My son was curious. “Elvis lived an incredible life and was very wealthy.”

It’s hard to explain the true meaning of wealth to a 12-year-old.  We stood there, looking at the statue and trying to allow the silence of the moment try to explain my comment.

“Why, Dad? Why did you feel sorry for someone who had everything?”

I told him about my first trip to Graceland back in 1991.  How I was impressed but at the same time a little bit saddened. While it was nice — and a palace for its time — you couldn’t help but feel like the walls around Graceland held Elvis in as much as they kept his loyal fans out.

“He had more talent in his little finger than most people have in their whole body,” I explained.  I told him about Elvis’ acting career.  I believe he could have had an amazing career as an actor if he had gotten the right scripts. Instead, he was typecast in the same movies. I then told him about Colonel Tom Parker’s iron-fisted management of Elvis.

“Why do people think he is still alive?” my son was particularly curious now. He reached up and held the hand of the statue.

I took a picture and said, “Part of it is driven by the hope that he is still with us. But I think many other people felt like I did. They realized he was being held prisoner by the demons of his own fame. If he could have escaped it somehow. I guess that’s our hope.  Think about it, thanks to better management, has made way more money since he died.”

“If he died,” my son smiled.

“Yeah, if he died,” I said as I patted him on the back.

The statue stood there silently, keeping the memory of an amazingly gifted man alive.  I smiled. It was one of those teaching moments, really. A teaching moment about talent and fame. Not only for my son. But for me.

“He left the world a better place than he found it. Long live the king, “I said as I touched the statue’s hand.  My son joined me and said, “Long live the King!”

We turned around and walked back to the car. Another generation had learned appreciation of Elvis Presley’s talent.

And as we disappeared out of sight, a tear trickled down the statue’s face.

 

 

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Tuesday Free-For-All

Posted on January 8, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

Good  morning!  I think Alabama just scored again.

Storms are on the way.

Storms are on the way.

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The Prayer Dock

Posted on January 7, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

PrayerDockIt was rude greeting but totally necessary. The alarm screamed “GET UP!!!”  A single blood-shot eye peered warily at the clock.

4:46 a.m.

An arm, which had fallen asleep because it was tucked under a giant head, flailed around, trying to hit the snooze button. Cursing from the other side of the bed showed his wife’s displeasure.  Even the dog reshuffled at the end of the bed.

Three books, a pair of glasses and an empty drinking glass hit the floor. Finally the alarm clock was silenced.  Frank Foster’s feet hit the frosty floor frustrated. “^*$%,” he said, tried to keep the alliteration going.

It was time to go run.

Frank liked to run in the dark. First, he wore tights — which made him look like sausage crammed into a casing.  Second, he wore tights.  A grown-man, other than Superman, should not wear tights. Particularly if you looked like Frank Foster did. He put on his man-hose and laced up his running shoes. “Thank God it is dark,” he thought as he caught his bulky reflection in the mirror.

Frank liked running like your average tabby cat loves a bath, which is to say, not much. But he did it anyway. He strapped on his watch, put on a hoodie and tried to stretch a little bit.  Soon it would be just him and the stars.

Some people run to lose weight. Some people run to improve their health.  Frank ran to get out of the house. It was his one hour of peace. He had a hilly five-mile course of sanctuary mapped out.

Frost covered the neighborhood, making the light of the full moon illuminate it even more than normal.  Fog slinked along the ground. He imagined it parting behind him as he ran up the short hill to the right of his house.  He could see his breath in front of him.  It was bone-chilling cold this morning. Cold enough to keep amateur runners inside. But not Frank. He was a man on a mission.  His heart rate,  like his breath, settled into a constant rhythm.

Two and a half miles later, he came to a dirt road.  Off to his left was a thicket of pines and beyond them was a giant reservoir. The moon’s light reflected off its choppy water. It looked like God had sprinkled diamonds across the waves.  To his right was a smaller pond. It was protected more from the slight breeze than the bigger body of water, so its surface was smooth as glass.  The stars reflected off is still surface, looking like lanterns sprinkled on the ground.  A beaver jumped into the water in the distance, starting Frank.  The ripples traveled across the pond, soon reaching the shoreline nearby. Frank the crank, as his wife called him,  lumbered down the road. He heard his feet crunch the pea-sized gravel.  There was something very satisfying about running on a dirt road.  He felt one step closer to the earth.

Up ahead, right next to the spillway for the pond’s dam, was a dock.  Made of still-green treated pine, it jutted out into the water.  On it was a small bench and a sign that read “no diving.”  Frank looked at the rocks that lined the dam and thought that was good advice.  This was a daily even for him. Every morning Frank ran to this dock. And Frank got down on his knees and had a conversation with God.  He called it his prayer dock.  The view of the still pond was more spiritual than a thousand cathedrals to Frank.

Every morning he prayed. And every morning he asked for stuff.  And every morning he was convinced his prayers weren’t answered.

Frank was a frustrated man.  And the lack of an answer, like his life as a whole, weighed heavily on him.  He had job problems. Marriage problems. Kid problems. Health problems. The saw the life’s glass as not only half-empty. He saw it as cracked.

But something was different this morning.  Maybe it was the full moon above. Or maybe it was burn in his lungs and legs. But Frank felt more alive this morning. On this Epiphany morning, Frank had an, well, epiphany.

He ran out on the prayer dock and just stopped.  The only sound he could hear was the beating of his heart.  Frank was alive.  Frank knew that in its own right was a precious gift.  And the chubby runner in tights just looked up at the sky and said, “Thank you.”

Frank felt gratitude.

He felt warmth flow over him in a way he had never felt before.

He quickly checked to make sure he had not had an accident in his pants. No.  It was something else.

He smiled and yelled to the top of his lungs, “THANK YOU!!!”  His voice echoed across the pond, causing a dog to bark in the distance and lights to come on in the houses across the water.

Then Frank looked up at the star-filled sky. A single meteorite shot across it, burning up as it kissed the horizon.

Frank Foster knew he was the luckiest man in the world.  The chubby man in tights turned around, left all his “problems” on the prayer dock and gratefully ran home.

 

 

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Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit Blog: Fitness Goals

Posted on January 7, 2013 by Marshall Ramsey

ScaleWhile I ran this morning, I was greeted by a blanket of freezing fog. My lungs burned. My legs burned even more. I felt the lactic acid in my body shifting around.  Two days after the Mississippi Blues half-marathon, I felt creaky.  My heart rate jumped up again — but nothing like it did on Saturday. Today, it hovered in the 154-170 range.  I had as many hills as I had then. Maybe it was just because I only ran four miles.

It was 4.11 to be exact. I guess I can say it was a hell of a run — I burned 666 calories. That is slightly disturbing. But other than a balky left knee, it felt good to run today.

Wednesday it all changes.

That’s when I start Fit4Change. I’ll be joining legislators and average Mississippians (and average legislators) at Jackson State University as we go through Paul Lacoste’s aggressive one-hour workout.

It’s my second time through. Last year, I was TOTALLY out of shape.  I weighed 248 lbs. and could not run a mile. My goal was to get back to near 200 lbs.  I did it.

This year, I am 202 lbs. I am in much better shape than I was last year.  But I’m not in great shape.  My core strength is weak.  And I plan to lose some more weight.  Here are my goals:

1. To weigh 185. I weighed 175 when I got married. It can be done.

2. Have a size 34 waist.

3. Have my resting heart rate in the 50’s

4. To do every exercise 100% and have a strong mental attitude.

5. To run a 26-minute 5K

In a way, it will be harder this time. Losing the weight was easy last time because I had so much to lose. Now, I will be toning up. Muscle weighs more than fat.  I already eat like I am supposed to eat.   I have my work cut out for me. I won’t experience as dramatic of a change this time around.

But I need this mentally. I have big changes in my life ahead. I need the mental discipline and the energy to pull it off.  The hard work I put in at the crack of dawn will give me both.

Tomorrow I have my physical. I’ll post my numbers and then will post my numbers in 12 weeks. This is my experiment and journey. But you can follow along on this blog.

It’s time to go from Fit-to-Fat-to-Fit-to-Fitter.

 

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