Marshall Ramsey

Numbers don’t lie. My doctor went over some of mine as I sat on the waiting room cold paper-cover table. “Well, you’re bit anemic. You’ve been pushing yourself hard lately, eh?” Um, yes. He went through my numbers some more. “Good cholesterol is low, too. Need to work on that. Niacin would help. You also need to lose about 20 lbs.”

Twenty pounds? OK, I can live with that. That’s my PLS goal. He based my recommendation on past numbers based on past weights. I just do better when I weigh 200. I’m 218, now but not fat. I have a 34 waist. I need to slim down a little.

The anemia is worrisome. So is low good cholesterol. But diet and exercise will help that.

On the bright side, all my other numbers are perfect — for a 25-year-old. I am pretty healthy.

Last night, I didn’t sleep much and I felt it this morning when the alarm went off. In fact, it was the first time the alarm actually went off. I normally wake up before it goes off. Not this morning. I was tired. I thought for a moment about sleeping in. But you know what they say about success and showing up. My feet hit the floor and meandered over to do my PLS training.

I sucked today. Or at least I feel like I did.

Paul was there (I was glad, I’ve missed him strangely enough). And when we were with him ran the Gauntlet. And I struggled. Don’t ask me why — well, I know why. I work out with stud athletes and I ain’t one of them. But I shouldn’t have had that much problem. Hell, I ran a half marathon quickly Saturday. Maybe it is my anemia. Or lack of sleep. Or some other BS excuse I can whine about. I quickly got my mind right and pushed hard on every other exercise (loved pushing towels this morning!) and worked up a mighty sweat. I felt fear, anger and frustration leave my body.

I’m on the right track with my health. I’m glad I have my numbers and know what I need to improve. That goal will get me out of the bed tomorrow and many days after that.

It’s Friday. Your bed is warm and the floor is cold. You muster the energy to get your feet on the ground and head to the gym but you’re sore. Tired. Worn out. Your muscles burn. You don’t want to be there. You could just go through motions. You know, give half effort. I mean, who would know if you did? It’s a victimless crime, right? Just coast on through the workout to the weekend and everything will be just fine.

But you don’t. You reach down inside of you and pull out a little more effort. You lean into your exercises and get the most out of them. You hurt. You’re tired. But your body responds when your brain tells you it can’t. You unmask your brain for what is: A liar. You push. Sweat drips downs your face and into your eyes. The sting reminds you that you are alive. And when the hour is up, you feel a sense of satisfaction that powers you through the day. You wanted this. You trained your muscles.

And you trained so much more.

It’s Friday. Your bed is warm and the floor is cold. You muster the energy to get your feet on the ground and go look for a job — but you’re sore. Tired. Worn out. Your heart aches. You don’t want to move. You could go through the motions. You know, give half effort. I mean, who would know? It’s a victimless crime, right? Just coast through your life and everything will be fine.

No, it won’t’ be fine. You have people depending on you. So you reach down inside of you and pull out a little more effort. You lean into your life and get the most out of it. You hurt. You’re tired. But your body responds when your brain tells you it can’t. You continue to push. The sting of fear reminds you that you are alive. You feel a sense of satisfaction that powers you through the day. You needed this.

You’ve trained so much more when you worked out.

You trained your will.

Weight: 225. Goal 200

I tell my sons they’re the sum of their five closest friends. That’s a fancy way of saying, “You’re who you hang out with.” If that’s the case, I’m a lucky guy. My teammates are some of the best people I’ve met in Mississippi. They’re successful, focused, driven — and most are overcoming some life challenges that would knock normal people to their knees.

This morning, we worked out in the field house (not out in the 13-degree weather.) Coach Clark started us out with a workout that made our legs burn. Then our line went to the weights. We did upper body and shoulder work –more burning muscles. We then went into the hallway where we did wall sits and wall runs. For our third station, we did the Gauntlet. The Gauntlet means different things depending where you do it. At JSU, it usually involves running around the Walter Payton Center while carrying a weight. At Madison Central, you run the stadium (my favorite). This morning, thought, running the Gauntlet involved us running a loop around the inside the field house, through a ladder drill and then up and down stairs to the second floor. I was fine until the very end — and I started sucking wind. (I’m still getting past my virus and am not running well.) By the time we got to Coach Clark’s drill, I had hit a wall. I didn’t do the exercise well.

At least not Line 1 worthy.

Don’t get me wrong — I’m not beating myself up. I had a solid workout and a good performance today. But I didn’t do well on my last session. And you’re only as good as your last session. Failures are only failures if you don’t learn from them. They are benchmarks. They teach you what you’re capable of when pushed. When I “fail,” I know where I stand. And I now know I need to improve.

But how do I go about doing it?

Back to what I said at the beginning — you know, “You are a sum of your closest friends,” stuff. I workout with a guy named Bucky. Bucky has lost over 100 lbs. doing PLS and last year won Athlete of the Year. He’s a beast of an athlete — but what impresses me is his will. PLS helped him make the mental transformation I’m seeking. He is focused and dedicated. His word is gold and he puts in the work every single session. He’s no nonsense. You can sense his focus. I tried to keep up with him today. And I can report, I have a way to go. But on the third day of my 12-weeks of working out, I now know where I am going.

I want to be more like Bucky.

Weight 225 lbs. Goal 200 lbs.

My bed was warm. The covers soft. My pillow fit neatly around my resting head. The red light of my alarm clock glowed “3:49.” It was one minute before the alarm would sound. One eye glared at it while the other desperately tried to stay shut. Thanks to muscle memory, my right arm came up out of the covers and turned off the alarm. My feet swung around and hit the cold wood floor.

The hardest part of my workout was done.

I put on shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. It was pretty cold, so I figured we might be inside. But JUST in case, I packed tights, gloves and a hat. My foresight saved me — we were outside today. Let’s just say a frozen artificial football field makes doing sit-ups a whole new experience.

At 5 a.m., we broke into lines. I got into my normal line 2. But John (my workout partner) and I were quickly moved into line 1. Line 1 is the top line — where the top athletes reside. I’m definitely at the bottom of the barrel when it comes to athletic ability in that group. And I know I’ll have to make it up with effort and attitude.

That’s my goal this 12-weeks. To be worthy of Line 1.

We started with Coach Neil in the weight room. (Yay, inside!) We did a weight-machine circuit and stayed at each station until our muscles burned. I think we did around 13 stations. I lost count. From there, we went to Coach Richard and the quick-foot ladder drill. My group hustled through those and I felt my half-operational lungs burning. Then it was on to Clark, were we did arm-mechanics and some core work. He had us do 60 sit-ups and then raising our feet into the air. Let’s just say the ground was chilly. Next, Coach Trahan was awaiting us, where we did dynamic warmups. (I got to dust off my inch-worm abilities.) And the cherry on top was a 200-yard run and then two 100-yard runs. My line mates turned it into a sprint. I was right there in the middle of them.

I noted the temperature when I left. It was 32 degrees and lord knows what the windchill was. And a sane person would wonder why I got out of the bed at 3:49 to be part of it. Well, I’ve seen the statistics for Mississippi. I know we nearly spend a billion dollars of Medicaid money treating obesity. I’ve seen my own family members suffer from health problems that are preventable. So when I took a moment to study my alarm clock this morning, I made the decision not to be a statistic after all.

January 6, 2015 Weight 225 lbs. 

There was freaking frost on the football field. Frost. My virus broke last night, leaving me sleeping in a pool of sweat. What the heck was I doing standing outside in sub-freezing weather? Was I chasing pneumonia? What was I doing wearing tights? (I’m sure my PLS teammates were wondering that on, too.)

Well, I was doing my fit-test for the next 12-weeks of my Paul Lacoste Sports bootcamp. And this is my first Fit2Fat2Fit blog entry for 2015.

Here are my numbers:
Pushups. 60. Goal: 100. The most I’ve ever done consecutively: 73 — ten years ago.
Sit-ups: 50. Goal: 100. I got this one.
Overhead press: 40
Step-ups: Something like that, too.

Running was where things went to heck. My lungs are off-line from being sick, so I felt like a fish gasping on a dock. I did the 100-yard shuttle (while slipping on the icy field) in 24 seconds. I should be closer to 21 seconds.
And my mile run? A CRAPPY 8:54. Ugh. My goal is to get back in the seven-minute range.

I weigh (by their scale and with a lot of clothing on to stay warm) 225 lbs. My goal, shared my by teammates Michael and John, is to lose 25 lbs. That will require me eating VERY clean. I’m really not that fat. But I used to be.

Seven sessions ago, I started this program weighing 248 lbs. That was nearly 250 lbs. of pure fat. I couldn’t run to the fridge, either. My waist was 41 inches. I had chest pains. I was the poster child for a heart attack.

Today, my waist is 34 inches and I can run in the neighborhood of 15 miles. It’s muscle now. But I could still trim down.

In 2011, it was about getting in shape. But today, it’s about mental training. The past three weeks have been some of the most taxing of my life. I’m coming into this physically and mental beat up. PLS training teaches you that your body can achieve way more than your mind thinks it can. That’s huge. In this stressful time, that’s invaluable.

I’ll be training in Madison, outside, with my PLS friends. I love them — and I’m not being sappy. They inspire me and encourage me. And they’ll bust my chops if I’m slacking off. We all need warriors like them in our lives.

What really excites me is that several of my Clarion-Ledger coworkers are doing the program for the first time. They’ll be at Jackson State and inside. But it won’t be easy for them. I look forward to following their journey and encouraging them however I can. And I hope they have the same results I have had.

So here we go. The journey to better health has begun.