Thursday, June 30, 2005

And so we begin ...

Some time ago, while on the stationary bike on the gym, I started wondering how much I weighed when I was racing really, really, well (39:20 10K PR, 18:36 5K) I figured I've gained 10 pounds since then, most of it in the past 5 years. Ten pounds X 16 oz./pound X 28 grams/oz. (don't ask how I remembered that) X 9 calories per gram of fat yields 40,320 extra calories I've neglected to burn off. Divide by 100 calories per (light) beer and it's roughly 400 beers*. Actually, it's 403.2 but I didn't think "403.2 Beers" had a good flow (so to speak) and I think I burned up the extra 3.2 while doing the math (I had to figure it right then, right there, on the bike, sans calculator)

I had originally thought I could burn them off at a nice one a day rate (using the industry standard of 100 calories per mile: run three miles in the morning, and only drink two beers at night yields a net loss of one). Throw in some marathon and triathlon training and it becomes a walk in the park.

Not so fast, sis.

Miss a run, have a couple extra on Wednesday night, and bang zoom, you're back into a deficit.

It's ten weeks 'til the Distance Run, five months until the Philly Marathon (a long shot, that) and six months left in the year.

Wish me luck

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Father's Day 2005

I celebrated the end of this Father's Day, the same way I celebrated the end of my first day as a father, November 19, 1999.

I sat out on my front porch with a bottle of Chimay Blue (aka, Grande Réserve) and a Punch Grand Cru cigar. That was the beginning of the slow shallow downward spiral from stud triathlete (on first glance anyway) to the slow, fat, pale old man I am now.

Rebuilding the Monster

I need to rebuild my Monster.

He’s in need of some repair.
His belly’s gotten a little soft. He’s lost a little hair.
I haven’t used him much lately,
I haven’t had anyone to scare.

My Monster needs a little work.

He should get back to the gym.
He’s not as fast as he used to be.
His arms are getting thin.
He definitely should watch what he eats -
The fat and sugar are just killing him.

I will get him an outfit,
He certainly deserves a new suit.
Something that looks dignified; not clownish or cute.
He’s much more frightening in his rags,
But he is still my friend, the poor brute.