Statistical Donuts

Basically I’ve always made a living by being a communicator of one sort or another. My goal is always to uncover the simple meanings behind complex statements and ideas. Sometimes I can do it, sometimes not. At the moment I’m working for the State, doing some analytical research (its boring, but pays the mortgage). My current project has me looking into the science behind what creates our perception of the value of money. Clearly the paper and coins themselves have little or no intrinsic worth, so it is actually just our belief in what money can do for us (and others’ belief in that as well) which creates that value. So, how do we decide what’s something is worth? How do we figure out how much we value a particular good or service? Well, through our perception of the world around us – through our physical senses and mental thoughts. Along the same lines, its helpful to know what makes us feel satisfied. For example, it is nice to have a pair of scissors. Two pairs of scissors might be a little better. But after the third, fourth, fifth? We care less and less. But each individual makes that judgement based on his/her needs and wants. Some researchers have come to believe that ‘in order that the intensity of a sensation may achieve an arithmetic progression, the stimulus itself must achieve a geometric progression.’ In other words, two scissors are not TWICE as satisfying as the first one. And TWO DONUTS are not TWICE as satisfying as ONE! So perhaps what is going on with our trigger foods is that we are mentally/emotionally driven to try and keep increasing our pleasure, even though our physical reaction can never match our efforts. Is that why I used to sit down and consume an entire half-gallon of ice cream or box of cookies? Is that why, once I start in on a trigger food, I find myself in some kind of frenzy to keep eating? Apparently we humans are just not programmed to achieve greater and greater intensity of feeling. Otherwise I guess our brains would explode (I’m making that up). Now I’m not saying that economic theory holds the key to managing our efforts at portion control and satisfaction, but its nice when ideas from the ‘outside world’ can give us insight into some of the issues that we spend so much time trying to figure out. The next time I find myself barreling into the snack cabinet, I wonder if knowing about the 'Weber-Fechner Law of Sensation' might help. Probably not. But it was fun thinking about it.

Water, water, everywhere

They say ‘be careful what you wish for’ and I suppose they’re right. At my last company, there was free junk food everywhere, every day, week after week, month after month. I used to dream that I’d get a job where people weren’t constantly focused on food, food, food. (I recall the president of the company once telling me that when I went to visit any of our field offices I was ‘required’ to bring donuts!) Well. My new workplace is food free. And amen to that! We even have restrictions on what can be heated in the microwave (no popcorn!) and bringing food to our work area is discouraged. The most junky thing I’ve seen so far was some black licorice (blech!) that someone brought to a meeting to give away (they didn’t want it). And believe you me that this is a happy development. Keeping food separate from work actually gives me more pleasure by making eating a special event. What never occurred to me was that at my last work place there was also an abundant, constant, easily accessible supply of fresh water. We had a kitchen with a sink for tap water. A freezer with ice. A traditional water cooler that dispensed both frigid and boiling water. And bottled water. Mountains and mountains of bottled water. Bottled water was at every meeting and was offered to every visitor coming through the front door. In short order, I realized that my daily consumption of water was about 2 liters a day. And it always felt good and natural. In my new work place, however, it’s the opposite. There’s no kitchen, there are no water coolers, and the closest place to buy bottled water is the drug store (two steep San Francisco blocks away). The water fountains are either broken altogether, or simply dispense a low bubble of a flow into a shallow basin that makes it difficult and messy to fill a glass. Which leaves me with the restroom. And you can tell me til you’re blue in the face that it’s the same tap water in the men’s room as in the water fountain, but somehow I refuse to feel that way! For a while I bought water by the gallon from the drug store, but that got old fast. And since I bike to work, I usually only bring a small bottle with me from home. So now I keep a large mug on my desk, which I fill by repeatedly dipping a small paper cup into the water fountain. And it feels like work. I noticed today that I only drank about 3/4 of a liter all day. Funny, huh? Just spoiled, I guess. I’m trying to keep in mind that there are millions upon millions of people on Earth who have no access to fresh water of any kind. People walk unimagineable distances to gather water and carry it in jugs to their homes. And here I am, with water, water, everywhere and not bothering to fetch a drop to drink.

Reflections

This morning I got up extra early because I wanted to have time to run with the dog, shower, make breakfast and have coffee before heading out to church at 6:30 (where I set things up and serve at mass every Thursday). Perhaps it was the early hour, or just the good feelings I have on Thursdays generally but this morning when I climbed out of the shower I took a good look in the mirror and thought ‘damn, I am hot looking for a 45 year-old’ then smiled and got dressed. Its been a long time since I felt that great about my looks. I think there’s so much more societal acceptance of self-criticism that its natural to fall into a constant negative mode about one’s appearance. But for the first couple of years after goal, I constantly kept myself aware of how it felt physically and how I felt seeing the reflection of a thin person in the mirror every morning. It was an excellent reinforcement that kept me conscious of healthy eating and exercise because I didn’t want to ‘blow it’ and lose the feeling. Eventually, of course, I did ‘blow it’ by gaining back just enough weight to start putting lumps and curves in the wrong places. During the next eighteen months as I was meandering back toward goal, I felt an almost constant disappointment – a sort of close-but-no-cigar kind of thing. Ridiculous, really, since I never gained back more than 12 pounds of the fifty I’d lost. At any rate, today I reveled in the moment and in that sensation. For someone who for DECADES squeezed himself into virtually every outfit, its earth-shattering to be able to simply grab a pair of pants and a shirt and jump into them. I no longer become puzzled over the shoes or the belt or the shirt pattern that will ‘make me’ look better. Because pretty much everything in my closet fits and looks great. And you know what? It really helps. When I’m struggling with a food decision, or trying to talk myself into going running at 5 a.m., its just helpful to know that there’s a result, that its worth it. And I give myself a hell of a lot of credit for the years of abs classes, gym workouts and exercise regimes that I endured before I got into this kind of shape. So, today was pat-myself-on-the-back day. It might not make up for a lifetime of beating myself up, but I’ll take this holiday and celebrate it for all its worth.

Take Two Cookies and Call Me in the Morning

My lower back is killing me. It could be that I’m sore from my workout on Tuesday (possibly too many declining situps). It might also be that I slept at an odd angle. Another possibility is that I’ve got bad posture when I sit at my desk all day. Or… stress. Its weird, but stress is both an imagined thing and a very real thing. I say ‘imagined’ in the sense that the triggers for it can be mere sights and sounds that do not, in fact, pose immediate physical danger. It can be our thoughts and reactions to concepts that provoke the most startling results (e.g. looking at the calendar and remembering a forgotten appointment). It can also be a boss yelling, a family member crying, or the experience of other emotionally heightened moments that trigger a stress response. Again, it is merely our presence at the moment that results in stress (had we been at that appointment, we wouldn’t be with the person having the emotional melt down!). Today I had amazing stress triggers. In the morning, I had an uncomfortable meeting with a manager, during which my goal was to convey my own dissatisfaction with the way my new job is turning out. After that, I sat through a long management meeting where the discussion was so distracted and unfocused that my blood began to boil at the waste of time and inefficiency of the thing. Then there was yet another meeting, and this time my colleague kept fooling with the projector and delaying the start of his presentation that I got annoyed by the long wait. Finally, at the end of the day Devin called to remind me that if I didn’t deposit my paycheck in person at the bank by 5 p.m. our mortgage payment would bounce. And I had another engagement that I was speaking at which began at 5. And did I mention that on Wednesdays I work my part-time job during the lunch hour of my full-time job? And I don’t have time to go to the gym?? Its ironic because the stress response in humans is actually a self-preservation mechanism. If a cave man sees a lion coming, he has a split second to make the fight or flight decision, and must have the heightened adrenaline, shallow breathing, and movement of blood to the brain that it takes for this to happen. Humans can’t live in a perpetually high state of alert, so the stress response acts as a sort of early warning system to shock us into action if need be. But did you know that during a stress reaction, our physical sensation is muted? So therefore are we less affected by the fear of imminent danger, AND our pleasure center is also muted . For the few seconds we need to snap into decisive action, pain and pleasure are unnecessary. And it can take thirty to sixty minutes before that state of alert is relaxed. So its highly likely that my back was hurting because of the way I physically reacted to stress all day (getting triggered over and over again), but I didn’t notice it until I got home and calmed down. At any rate, one thing I’ve learned is that even though food does ‘help’ in calming down the stress response, our pleasure in that food is diminished at that moment, so it takes a lot of it in order for us to react. So at least today I didn’t medicate myself with food. Its funny, nothing earth-shattering happened to me today, and here I am feeling as if I just carried a ton of bricks a mile and a half. Imagined or real, it sure hurts. And thus, its two ibuprofens and off to bed with me. Even if I’d rather have a carton of oreos.

Appearances that Deceive

People occasionally refer to me as a 'teacher,' which always makes me cringe. I hold no qualifications to teach anything, let alone healthy weight management, nutrition, or psychology. Real teachers, like my friend Trina, go through extensive training, certification and hands-on practice before they are let loose into the world. (Trust me when I say Trina is amazing). In fact, I sometimes worry that I come across as 'preaching' which seems just as ludicrous. My priest is a wise and wonderful woman who got not only a thorough spiritual education, but preacher training as well. (Another amazing person). No, I'm just some guy who has a lot to say, and enjoys writing (and reading). So I spent a fair amount of time today facing up to the fact that the last week or so I've feeling like a total hypocrite (Merriam-Webster: a person who puts on a false appearance of virtue or religion). Because one thing I often say to people is that they have to 'live life normally' and 'not be afraid of restaurants, travel, and vacations.' After all, if the only way to lose weight and keep it off is to sit at home eating broccoli and chicken breasts, how sad would that be!? Yet here it is that I cannot seem to book a flight for my vacation. I kept thinking it was something I would get to, maybe, say, tomorrow. Ah, so many flight options and packages, its all too complicated. Hmmm... and can I really afford to go away right now? Besides, Devin doesn't have any time off and I'd miss him if I went alone. Perhaps staying home and saving money is the best idea of all. No. No. No. The reality is, having just gotten back to my goal weight, I AM AFRAID TO GO ON VACATION. Which is to say, I'm okay with visiting my Mom for three days on her birthday. It'll be drama (that's my family) but I'll survive. But I'm NOT okay with going away somewhere for two whole weeks, let alone a foreign country where I'll be in a hotel without access to a kitchen (and probably not even a gym!). Because here is the real deal. Every. Single. Time. I have gone on vacation the past four years, I have ended up diving into the chocovat and binge-ing my way to the bottom (and then licking the spoon). And due to our financial/occupational constraints, none of these trips has ever lasted more than six days. Yet somehow, somehow, I managed to simply lose my mind at one point or another. Paris, London, New York, China -- I've loved them all and regretted them all. And I say 'regretted' advisedly, because I wasn't simply overeating local cuisine, or having difficulty figuring out the calories in some strange yet marvelous new dish. Nah, I was bingeing. Junk food. Sweets. Crap you could find anywhere. Did you know that you could by Oreos in Beijing? (It wasn't easy, trust me). So here I am, with two weeks of paid vacation available to me for the first time since the internet bust in 2001, a passport just waiting to be stamped, zillions of frequent flyer miles, an open invitation to visit friends in London and Paris. And yet. Sheesh. I don't want to come home once again feeling bad about my eating behaviors. I'm embarassed to admit that. It seems I have all kinds of great techniques (positive self-talk, visualization, helpful support system) and it just doesn't allay that nagging feeling. There is such a strong element of self-doubt. So. I've been all over the world. I'm not planning on going anywhere that I haven't been before or am never planning to go again. There are no 'once in a lifetime' food opportunities at any of these destinations. Shouldn't I be able to imagine eating vegetables in Paris, or working out at the gym in London? Or vice-versa? And then coming home (imagine it!) happy, relaxed and PROUD of myself? Hypocrite. Sigh.

Do Do Run Run

Yes, okay, I know this is a crappy photo with low resolution and bad lighting. In fact, Devin (who is an amazing photographer) wants to personally disavow any affiliation with the image, even though I made him take it with his cell phone. Its just that the 'beefcake' photo on my blog is kinda old (2003) and I wanted to show a new picture, just to update my 'look.' This weekend I have felt really yucky (taking Lamisil, don't ask), and it has been a huge struggle to not just lie in bed and pull the covers over my head. But I'm not an old New England Yankee for nothing! As a child, my parents instilled in me a very stoic approach to sickness. In fact, I don't recall my Father ever taking a sick day, except for the time he had surgery! Come to think of it, that's probably just one more reason I spent so much of my life in denial. But that's neither here nor there. Yesterday, in fact, I ran my usual nine mile route and lived to tell the tale. So thanks Dad (may you jog in peace). Today I felt even worse, but managed to go for a walk at the beach with Devin and Paco and then afterwards I actually ran to the gym and worked out. When I got home, I thought THIS IS THE TIME to have a picture made. Because I want to be able to look back on this weekend and think... "Wow." Its not modest or self-deprecating of me (sorry Dad), but I feel so proud of the work I've done to keep my 45 year-old self from sagging into middle age. I may have a little gray around the edges, and a few more wrinkles, but I'm pretty much the same as in that picture from 2003. And I'm off the meds for the next three weeks. Yippee! (And here's a shot of the beach in San Francisco where we walk the dog)

The Flood

Sometimes I feel like a New Orleanean pre-Katrina. I'm letting the good times roll, but with the sense that there's high water all around and the levee's are kind of leaky. In good Bourbon Street tradition I'm living it up, but I still can't help wondering when it'll all end. You see, its all around me. The pressure is there. Its all people talk about at work. Almost everywhere you turn you're faced with it. Its impossible to ignore, and even when you resist it you find yourself remembering things and being drawn back in. You'd think the gym would be a safe place, but no! Its the focal point of attention and its everywhere you look. And while Devin is fairly supportive, I know its only a matter of time. He doesn't like feeling left out and thinks he's missing all the fun. Of course, you know what I'm talking about, right? TELEVISION. You see, we don't have it. That's right. We do not have a television. Devin has this large flat screen thing in the living room, but it only works when hooked up to the DVD player. And while he does rent dozens and dozens of DVD's, about half the time he just plays them in bed on his mini-player that I got for his birthday. And now he's hooked on streaming video (mostly tennis - yawn) on his computer. What happened was, back when I got laid off in 2002 we were looking for ways to cut expenses, and I said "let's drop cable." Devin was shocked (but too cheap to pay for it all on his own). And since there is no over-the-air reception in our building, we just stopped cold turkey. We even sold the TV in a yard sale. Four years later, all I can say is that I don't miss it. At all. I spent almost every free waking hour of my youth watching TV and a good part of my adult life as well. So I feel like I've seen enough. Sure, there are great programs on that I miss. But since I'm missing them, I don't really care! Unfortunately, TV is like crack cocaine. One hit and you're hooked. Last summer we stayed at a hotel in NYC with a huge flat screen TV. Devin was out shopping and said he'd be back in two hours. I said "Okay, I'll go to the gym." Two hours later Devin returned and there I was in front of the TV, eyes glazed, clicker in hand, scrolling over and over and over through the channels. I never even got my sneakers on. Now, I'm not saying there is an exact parallel here, but for me TV is like full-fat, full-sugar ice cream. I crave it every now and then, but I need to keep it in very, very small portions, before I overindulge. And I simply can't have it in the house.