Dogged Pursuit

The other day JuJu wrote about her amazing dogs. Apparently they eat, sleep and exercise according to a natural rythym that keeps them happy and naturally sleek. She holds them up as a wonderful example of achieving balance. I keep wondering when I'll ever find a dog like that! I don't mean to say that my dalmatian Paco is a slouch in the pet department. He's fun and mellow and affectionate. But let him off leash at the beach and he's eating whatever rotting flotsam he can find, as quickly as possible. Same thing at the park -- he could find the discarded end of a hot dog at a hundred paces. And although he is a dog full of energy and vitality, trust me when I say the 5 a.m. run we do daily is not his favorite part of the day. Years ago I had a 20-pound beagle who lived for the sole purpose of finding and eating anything that remotely resembled or smelled like a food item. Twice in the time he lived with me he broke into the cupboard and ate an ENTIRE 8-pound bag of dog food. (I eventually had to get a metal container.) And his interest in exercise OTHER than searching for food was nil. Perhaps its because both dogs were purebreds and maybe mixed breed dogs are more intelligent, who knows. At any rate, along these lines, someone told me something truly remarkable this morning that I've been thinking about all day. Its quite counter-intuitive. She said "You know Jonathan, if I only ate exactly what I wanted, I wouldn't have a weight problem." I asked her to explain and she said that the majority of her eating wasn't so much intentional, directed towards specifically chosen foods, as it was incidental, casual and even accidental. In other words, just because we might eat all day long, it doesn't mean that we're getting what we really WANTED. And --OY!-- the calories we waste (by ingesting them) in the meantime! I'm also reminded of another amazing statement I heard last week. "If it takes me more than a moment to decide what I really want to eat, than I'm certainly not hungry." By which she meant that sitting around dreaming up what to do with her daily eating plan likely was telling her that she was just entertaining herself and not reacting to physical hunger. When I hear all these experts talking about the 'natural way' it makes sense. Too bad I'm a lot more like that old beagle than I am one of JuJu's hounds.

Remembering Memorial Day

Having grown up on the East Coast it always seemed to me that Memorial Day marked the onset of those languid 90 degree days of summer. The city of San Francisco, however, has a micro-climate (or set of micro-climates) which leave it windy and cool most of the year. Whereas this weekend in my youth was spent watching parades and having picnics, here in my new hometown you'd hardly notice summer is on the way. (In fact, it'll probably get even cooler in July and August). Today I wore a heavy long sleeved shirt and a windbreaker and even then I was chilly. Ironically, I spent 16 years of my adult life sweltering through summers in Washington, DC which I found sticky, miserable and interminable. In those days, whether I walked, rode my bike or took the bus, I was always damp, sweaty and uncomfortable. At my highest weight, when I got truly overheated, my most overwhelming sensation was one of claustrophobia. Its the principal reason I could never stand going in a sauna. When I first lost fify pounds in 2002 I was desparately cold all of the time. It wasn't just the loopy San Francisco weather. I was cold indoors and out. For the first time in my life I bought --and wore-- heavy wool sweaters and turtlenecks. I took to wearing lite cotton gloves almost constantly, and learned to keep my head covered as well. Over the past four years, my metabolism seems to have adapted somewhat, so that I'm able to wear just long sleeved shirts and long pants and feel warm enough. And, to be clear, I probably weigh about 5 to 8 pounds more than I used to, which is a significant amount of insulation for a (now) skinny guy like me. What's funny is that in 2002 I didn't really mind, because it gave me the opportunity to completely change my wardrobe. I bought smaller waisted pants, many, many more shirts, nice undergarments and the whole lot. I even worked part-time at "The Banana" for a while so that I could get the employee discount (I spent each entire paycheck at the store). Now, however, I wouldn't mind an occasional warm day. Its amazing how liberating it can be to walk out of the house without carrying a jacket or sweater. A few weeks ago, I was even able to do my long Sunday run shirtless. But those days are rare in the city, and much to be cherished. And, of course, the vain part of me is a little thwarted by the fact that I can't "show off" my slender self when I'm all bundled up. Still, when it comes down to it, I'll take 5 pounds of extra clothing over 50 pounds of adipose tissue any old day. Have a great, warm, weekend!

Ready, set ... wait a minute!

Although I'm passionate (okay, obsessive) about healthy weight management, and want to help others in any way I can to achieve their own goals, I've increasingly come to understand that its not always exactly about the scale. In the past four years I've worked with dozens of people who haven't lost an ounce, but who have gained insight in their behaviors, learned healthier habits, started to exercise, and stopped a downward spiral of weight-gain and self-recrimination. Of course there is a part of me that wants to be able to cheerlead as they lose weight, and I love doing that when I get the chance. But equally I hope that the people with whom I come in contact on this subject feel comfortable with themselves and more understanding of the fact that this is a long, complicated process regardless of what data comes off of the 'information machine' each week. Although San Francisco is a fairly large city, the fact that its rather neighborhood-y means that I actually run into a lot of current, former (and returning) clients in my day to day life, biking to work, grocery shopping, getting my haircut, etc. Occasionally its pleasant and we both smile and laugh, occasionally its uncomfortable and eyes are averted -- I can't predict it. Astonishingly, while walking my dog on Sunday to make an ATM transaction, buy coffee, and return a library book, I ran into seven such people. I'm happy to report that almost all of them, whether they'd lost, gained or stayed the same since I last saw them, had a smile and a greeting. Some of them talked about food and eating, some about the weather, some just nodded and smiled. Yes, for each of them I had a wish in my heart that they could experience some of the joy and triumph of reaching their goals. (Indeed, three of them had.) At the same time, considering how many times it took me before I was able to navigate the process with a little more confidence, I have no judgements at all about others' journeys. Most of all, it was just nice to know I wasn't alone! So whether you're getting ready, underway, or enjoying a few post-race victory laps, give yourself a pat on the back. From me.

To Speak or Not to Speak

Last night Richard was telling me about a friend of his who is in a downward spiral of eating and gaining weight. This friend professes to be happy and contented, but by direct observation of what he eats, how he's eating, and the amounts, it seems more likely that he's using food as a drug. And the result is that he's become increasingly, dangerously overweight. From experience I can tell you that you can only lose weight in a healthy way if you, yourself want to do it. Because unless you are under lock and key, there is probably no one out there who can 'make you' eat right. But does that mean there should be no proactive advocating for weight loss? I was thinking about this dilemma because in my own case, when I was at my highest weight, the only two people that ever suggested I ought to be concerned were my doctor and my personal trainer. And whereas I simply ignored the doctor, I became downright resentful of my trainer. All he did was gently suggest I keep a food log. And that was enough to set me off -- like a kid folding his arms and holding his breath til his face turns blue. It made me so angry! And as I've just written previously, we tred on dangerous ground when we comment on people's weight -- even if it's well intentioned. Many people have told me over the past four years about their unhappiness over a comment by a friend or relative that implied they were too heavy. So where does that leave us? Do we simply create the space and conditions for our loved ones to come in and be healthy and wait for them to show up when they feel the time is right? Do we best support them by NOT intervening? When I think about my own Father's alcholism, which lasted nearly 20 years, I find it pretty amazing that no one ever confronted him. Not friends. Not colleagues. Certainly not anyone in the family. (Personally, I was afraid of him, but I'm sure there were others who were not). I wonder if an 'intervention' might have spared him (and those around him) two decades of misery. Perhaps. Perhaps not. Thinking about your own weight loss journey, was there someone who said something that helped move you in the right direction? Was there something said that didn't help? Is there even a right way to say it? Should we leave well enough alone? Let me know.

Wrinkle In Time

Okay, I know that (1) I tend to be a little oversensitive and (2) its socially acceptable (and perhaps even complimentary) to make remarks about weight loss. Nevertheless, it really bugs me when people announce to me that I'm losing weight. Its probable that most people are well meaning. But when friends who know I work in weight loss and am highly attuned to the whole process continue to make remarks, I just can't stop myself from feeling exasperated. And this is because... I am NOT losing weight! So, honestly, if I WERE losing weight and getting these same comments, I'd probably be happy and flattered. Also, it might be that I am reading into these comments an accusatory tone that wasn't intended. Still, it seems to me that several times over the past month, people have said "You're losing weight..." while shaking their heads with furrowed brow as if to say "...and you had better stop that!" Finally, I realized last night what was really happening when my friend Rosa Lee, who is open and honest, simply said "Jonathan, you look TIRED." Which is exactly the case. I do look tired. Is it 'nicer' to comment about weight loss than to comment about a tired appearance? Is that why this topic has come up? Part of maintenance is learning to understand how to be happy with one's weight at a stable number. The rewards while losing weight are tangible (smaller clothes, a leaner body, a lower number on the scale). But staying the same week after week, month after month? Boring! In addition, there is one teeny tiny downside to being thin. Wrinkles. In the face. And for someone like me who has been "young looking" my whole life, its hard to swallow. But I am middle aged, and I do have wrinkles and all of that makes me look tired (as compared to when I was heavy and had that natural botox look!). Add in the new gray hairs and there you have it. So I suppose I shouldn't have snapped at the dinner table on Sunday night in a crowded restaurant when one of Devin's friends did the whole "no, really... Jonathan... you ARE losing weight" thing. But I did! And I wasn't nice, or polite, or quiet about it, either. Because, after all, I'm perfectly healthy, generally happy and god knows, I am not losing an ounce (would that I were! Still stuck at four pounds over goal). Maybe the thing to do is practice smiling? And I've got to come up with a new pat response, since up until now I always say "Well I'm not, but thank you for that very nice compliment" and then shoot the person an icy glare. Perhaps I could respond with a question: "Wow, can you tell me what it is about my appearance that is making you say that?" Hmmm.

Mini Goals

For a long time I used to tell myself "I don't want to gain back fifty pounds" as my mantra for staying focused and in control of my weight maintenance. After all, it was not a simple or painless journey to reach my goal weight. But I discovered something. Just as its useful to have small goals when losing weight, its also useful to have small goals for maintaining. Let me put it this way. Although I know I could do it, it would take a lot of time and effort to actually gain back all of my weight. It wouldn't happen over night, in a week, or even in a month. So the reality is, I can't really conceive of what it would be like to suddenly be so heavy again so quickly. As a result, that mantra actually stopped working for me as an impediment to overeating. Because the reality is, I found it rather simple to gain "just a pound." And then "just another pound." And then another, etc. I was so focused on that big number, that I failed to see the small number creeping and creeping and creeping. Fortunately, I reversed things when I got to about 14 pounds. It took a lot of effort and tenacity, but after four months of losing weight it felt great to get back to goal early in the Spring. And yet ... I only stayed at goal for a few weeks and life intervened and I began creeping again! There is a difference this time around though. Because right now I'm saying "there's no way I want to gain 14 pounds again!" And that is an entirely credible and realistic possibility. So I'm just working on 2 or 3 pounds, keeping things in check much earlier in the game. Perhaps one day I'll feel comfortable setting a five pound limit for myself. That seems even more do-able. But that's another goal for another time.

Running Away

This weekend I was feeling a little out of sorts. Truth be told, I've probably been out of sorts more often than not since puberty (more decades ago than I care to remember). Until four years ago, whenever I felt this way, I unconsciously medicated myself with high-fat, highly refined sugar foods. This had the effect of (1) momentary pleasure (2) jazzing my brain chemistry and (3) providing me with a layer of fat that served as a barrier between me and the world around me. It wasn't a perfect solution by any means, and did nothing to prevent the three bouts of clinical depression I went through in my late 20s and 30s. But it was what I knew and it was pretty ingrained. So, when I lost weight through healthy eating and exercise (rather than dieting or starving), not only did I lose that layer of fat, but I also discarded that dubious coping mechanism. Ironically, being skinny didn't cure me of depression, or fundamentally change my personality. Instead, it left me even a little bit MORE exposed to the outside world and the stresses of life. Its been an interesting journey trying to come up with new, healthy ways to cope (therapy and medication being essential). But I've only had four years' practice and I'm still on the learning curve. And don't get me wrong -- I much prefer to be skinny and blue than heavy and glassy-eyed from too many donuts. Now, I usually get up on Sundays and run a strenuous nine-mile course before going to mass. Its something I started about six months ago and has become somewhat of a routine. But today, feeling the way I did, I skipped both the run and church and instead sat around drinking coffee, eating and reading the NY Times. (Not necessarily in that order!) There was a street fair blocking my running route in the morning and it rained in the afternoon, so I felt I had great excuses to skip the exercise. But late in the afternoon I roused myself, and despite a case of the I-dont-wannas, laced up my shoes, grabbed my iPod and headed out the door. Within about a half a mile, I felt a little better. I noticed that I was enjoying the music, and easily lost myself in a reverie of thought. All through the run I felt strong and vibrant and healthy. Maybe not happy, or elated, or chipper, but definitely clear-headed and alive. And as I hit the eight mile mark or so I began noticing my body's movements, the strength of my legs, the lean-ness of my arms, the steady breathing of my lungs. Things I never could have felt at my highest weight. And I focused on those feelings intensely -- so much so that I completely forgot to worry about the final hill at the end of the route until I had already crested it and was on my way to the finish. The experienced calmed me and helped me feel better about the day and the weekend. Certainly I wasn't 'cured' and no miracle was performed, but it was definitely a positive, healthy step. And really, I don't think a pint of haagen dasz would have done the same thing for me.