Tag Archives: working out

Where Was I?

Posted on December 10, 2020 | Leave a comment

Oh yes…

I think I was last writing about some existential crisis in my life or other. OK, you got me. It’s been a long time since I wrote anything on this page. Here’s the story in a nutshell for those who still follow…

In the past year I quit my job as a vice principal. Yes, it’s the same one I bitched about wanting for years. I did it because I wanted to teach my own kids and because COVID. I started another blog and a YouTube channel. Did that go anywhere? That’s a big fat NO but not for lack of trying. You see, just as things were heating up we had a death in the family. One of my brothers-in-law, a man who will forever be remembered by those who knew him for his extraordinary kindness, died three weeks ago after a long illness. Forgive me for taking some time off. Also, did I mention COVID? I think the last few times I posted on this page I was detailing how I had finally gotten in really good shape after years of struggling with my weight and lack of athleticism. COVID hurts. I think I had it at one point early on but who can say? But what I can say is that about a year ago I stopped doing anything physical and completely let my diet go to hell. I’m blaming COVID Try to stop me.

In a nutshell, I am now a homeschooling dad with a failing YouTube presence and a gut exceeding the size of the state of Montana. But as anyone who knows me can tell you, I do eventually get back up, get back on the proverbial horse, and strive to achieve some semblance of “not-suck” in my life.

A few days ago, following Thanksgiving and my 43rd birthday, I decided it was time to try something new. Or something old, who can really say? Back to writing? Perhaps. A renewed interest in my media presence? Possibly. Trying to shed 20 pounds of excess fat and get a few of my once-visible abs to pop again? BINGO!

Long time readers will remember a character I introduced years ago known simply as “the Trainer”. Trainer is a friend of mine who is the envy of every man half his age. He’s now 40 years-old and still in phenomenal shape. As he touts with the excitement and nervous embarrassment of a five year-old boy, “I have ab veins,” whatever they are (and don’t tell me you haven’t Googled that one.). He’ll hate me for writing this but it’s true and he should shut up and take the compliment. He is a very holy and very humble man who trains his body not for vanity’s sake but because it is a temple of the Holy Ghost. And boy is he good at it. He runs like a demon out of hell. He does all kinds of body weight exercises because he can. He’s inspiring. I am not him and have finally realized in the past few years that I never will be him. But I realized that I am me and with some determination I can be a pretty good me. Two years ago I started taking my fitness and health seriously and by one year ago I had gotten into the absolute best shape of my life. This was in part inspired by the Trainer. After years of hearing his words I finally understood them. He wanted me to forge my own path and discover the secrets of training for myself. I’m happy to say, that thanks to his inspiration, I essentially did just that. It’s never been a competition but if I had to compare I think I may have given him a run for his money (said with a wink). I was in my early 40’s and pretty well defined, conditioned, doing things I’d never dreamed of doing. And then I let it go. But it’s not as if I am an extremely insecure man who’s always doubted whether anyone actually loves me and you can all stop laughing now.

So who did I turn to when I wanted to get back in condition? You guessed it. Last week I reached out to the trainer the day after my birthday and asked him if he could write up a program for me to get back in relatively good condition. I was straight with him. I said I was really concerned mostly about good health and overall conditioning, not necessarily my physique, although I understood that if I followed any decent plan I would achieve that as well. And he showed up at my door the next night with a plan. Unfortunately that plan was heavy on the one thing that he knows I have hated doing since he first tried to train me years ago – running. Aside from the fact that I have to quit smoking, I just hate running. But I committed to it and I keep my commitments.

Last night I worked through Day 1 of his reconditioning plan. I died. This is my essence typing this post. It’s pretty on the other side and I thought that years or bitchy sneakiness about ALL my neighbors would have merited a more fiery afterlife. Tonight I texted him to let him know I was sticking with it, despite my recent death. Do you know that he texted back he was on his way to run it through with me? As in, no joke, he came over and did my workout with me! He is a good man and I appreciate his presence.

Tonight I found that I didn’t cough up a lung. It was still hard as hell but anything worth doing is. I wonder if he gets that part of why I want to do this – especially now that he’s involved – is to impress him. I really want to show him that I admire his dedication so much that I want to do well for his sake – so he can look and say, “I did this to this corpse of a man. I turned him into something resembling me.” That’s not a bad thing. And I hope he sees my admiration and affinity for him for what they are. He is dedicated. He is strong. He is in good condition and that didn’t happen by accident. And I hope to be that too.

In 9 weeks I’m supposed to be able to complete a “Murph Challenge” which is a one mile run followed by 100 pull ups, 200 push ups, 300 squats, and another mile run. This guy thinks I can do it. Until last night I hadn’t run in four years and haven’t done a single pull up in at least a year. The push ups and squats were fine. It was humiliating to demonstrate these facts to him tonight but I showed him I wouldn’t give up. I’m grateful he thinks I can do it even if he did chastise me for having difficulty with the 1/4 mile sprint. Look I already died last night so it couldn’t possibly happen again, right?

Tomorrow it’s on for three sets of the same. I hope and pray it really does get easier. If not I’ll be completing this Murph from another realm.

Bottom line: I love this guy. He’s always been willing to lend his own time and experience trying to get the unseemly of this world like me to be more seemly. Prayers for increased lung capacity are always appreciated.

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He Doesn’t Just Write?

Posted on November 12, 2019 | 1 comment

…but he needs to do that more.

I came home from what is more and more the most fulfilling job I’ve ever had and got to work on a carpentry project I’m working on for Christmas. Take a gander.

Of course the Christ Child was born in a manger, not in my garage next to my weights.

I’m not great by any means but I’ve been taking stock lately of a few things. The thing I would most like to be proud of in my life is my vocation as husband and father. On that front all I can say is I am trying every day. I am a teacher and vice principal. After my family, in my adult life, few other things have brought me such joy. I am a writer who has never claimed to be much good although I do know my way around a few decent turns of phrase. I am a man who likes to challenge himself in the gym, not stopping or giving up until I’m satisfied. I will probably never be satisfied and that is just OK with me. It simply means I will always be challenging myself. And I think that goes for every aspect of my life.

On the writing front in particular, I have been reading old posts to my children. It is fun rediscovering our life together; but not nearly as much fun as seeing the joy and hearing the laughter from my children who really get a kick out of my writing. Also on that front, I have noticed that I have at seven separate times in the past few months started writing new posts only to save them as drafts. Perhaps I will one by one finish each post and publish them. I might even provide context.

Until then, the family is beautiful, school is wonderful, I am building back up in the gym and getting stronger, and Baby Jesus has a comfortable place to sleep in my garage.

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Posted in Catholic Blog, dad blog, Dad Stuff, Family, Fitness, Kids, Teaching/Education/School, weightlifting, Writing & Blogging

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Image

Update to “Getting Old”…

Look what just came in the mail from Amazon. Well played, God…

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Posted on September 2, 2019 in dad blog, Dad Stuff, Fitness, health

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Advice for My Kids? Don’t Get Old!

Posted on September 2, 2019 | Comments Off on Advice for My Kids? Don’t Get Old!

As an influencer-dad I am frequently asked my advice on important topics.

If only that last sentence were true…

But I do like that term “influencer-dad”. I think I’ll stick with that. Maybe even put it in the tagline of the blog.

Anyway… my two adoring children do occasionally ask my advice. Usually, however, it is not on important topics. In fact they typically ask me things like “Hey Dad, how can I make sure my hair doesn’t fall out like yours?” or “Hey Dad, I have to write a report for history class on the Battle of Gettysburg. Can you tell me what it was like?” Answers? “Don’t have kids” and “I’m not actually that old”. On that second question I should be thankful they didn’t ask me to describe the Battle of Hastings.

As time goes by, though, I can attest that, despite my youthful visage, I am really getting older. I just don’t think of myself as “getting old”. I learned that trick from my mom. “Always being surrounded by so many kids,” she would say, “kept me young.” If that’s the case I should be positively fetal given the couple thousand high school kids I’ve taught over the years. You see, friends, I spend my days with the teen set. It’s hard not to stay young when you’re constantly immersed in the absolute latest slang, styles, and silliness.

And despite rumors to the contrary I have NEVER played the part of the middle-aged dad meme. I take that back. I do wear cargo shorts AND I put stuff in the pockets. What am I supposed to do? They’re useful, those pockets. Other than that and the strategically placed bad “dad joke” I like to think I am in control of the aging process. Look, if I can stare having my spine taken apart and fused back together and still be as active as I am I think I can handle a few more years on the old body.

My daughter’s x-ray from her broken wrist. She doesn’t have gout. She’s young.

Late last week I began feeling a sharp pain in my lower right leg. It’s a pain I’ve experienced on and off ever since I was in my late teens. It comes on roughly once every year or so and goes away after a few days. This time the pain intensified to where I had real difficulty walking by Saturday night. I chalked it up to having gone back to school, being on my feet all day, and switching shoes every afternoon (from black oxfords to sneakers). On Sunday morning my wife took note of me hobbling into mass and thought otherwise. “Go get an x-ray,” she insisted. You see it wasn’t just my ankle now but also my opposite knee and a couple of toes that I had broken about a month ago. I hate doing that – not because I dislike the medical profession but because of the time and expense involved. What could they tell me anyway? “You’ve clearly got some kind of old injury that flares up from time to time. Take Motrin and rest.” Also, it was Sunday so that meant either an ER which seemed like massive overkill or an urgent care center. I haven’t had a ton of luck with these places in the past.

I went in, taking my visiting sister with me for fun. She’s always good for a laugh. First they put me on a scale. A few lbs. heavier than I would have liked but not too bad. Blood pressure was a little elevated too but that’s a symptom of being in pain. “Do you smoke?” they asked. Still not sure what that has to do with anything. Also, it should be in my chart. I’m of a mindset that says “I want you to earn that degree. I’ll just sit here mute and let you figure it out.” I might even give them my copay if they get it right.

After a while a doctor came into the room. He asked some questions and then laid it out for me. Turns out it’s either gout or rheumatoid arthritis. Gout seems most likely so we’ll treat for that. Yep, it looks like my high-protein diet coupled with the fact that I went from drinking about a gallon of water a day to almost none set it off. On that last point, I intended to fill my water bottle frequently throughout the day but the amount of time between classes is really short especially when there are kids who need to be redirected into their classrooms under threat of demerits. He put me on an anti-inflammatory and everything seems to be un-inflaming.

Meanwhile my sister went all Jersey on the x-ray tech who thoroughly enjoyed the display. The kids (my own and my students) should get a kick out of this one. One more thing for them to mock about their “old” teacher. I was young once. The funniest thing is that when I was young I wasn’t interested in my fitness. Now that I’m old I find it crushing to be told not to workout until this or that malady heals. It’s tough but I’m embracing it as best I can. They say with age comes wisdom so there’s that.

I’m old. I can make my own!

“One more thing,” the doctor said to me. “For now you should avoid high protein foods.” That’s going to be really tough for me. Gotta get those gains somehow. “OK, doc, anything else?” I asked. “Oh yes,” he said, “try not to drink beer if possible.” And here’s where that wisdom kicks in. “Doctor,” I said, “I really don’t drink beer.” Then a long pause. “How’s gin?” “You should be fine!” said the medic.

See, I know how to game this getting old thing. Why a younger, more foolish man would want nothing to do with gin. On the other hand, the passage of time has taught me how to hate myself and others just enough to find drinking a bottle of infused perfume perfectly delightful. So when you hurt yourself because you’re old and that’s what old folks do, drink gin. And THAT is my advice to you, children.

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Kids and Their Grandmothers: Another Road Trip – Day 1

Posted on May 30, 2019 | 1 comment

Dedicated to Annie DeLisle for reasons known to her.

Well here we are again! And by “we” I mean “me” sitting in a hotel room in a strange place, laptop on hand, pictures uploading to the cloud, bizarre canned cocktail nearby, cataloging the day’s memories, and reminiscing about the past – both years past and hours…

By the way, wasn’t it swell of me to start this post with a relatively short paragraph containing just two sentences, the second one ridiculously long and ending with an ellipses? Thought so.

By “here we go again” I mean to say that the very thing that was the catalyst to this blog and the forthcoming book(s) is now underway yet again. All the way back in the summer of 2008 and with a six week-old boy in tow because it would have been kind of wrong to leave him home alone, my darling wife and I set out to take the road trip we had talked about taking since we were dating. Six weeks later we returned to our apartment in Northern New Jersey, the boy now a man doubled in age. For 48 days we criss-crossed the continent reaching the far point of the Vegas Strip. I was a brand new dad and had fancied myself a pro at fatherhood. It’s hard to blame me since I had the best role model. My old man always did not only what was best for us but also made use of what he was good at while doing it. As a result I know every cerebral dirty joke every told. What I was good at (in my mind) was writing. So at the end of day one I found myself in a hotel room in Northern Virginia, playing with a happy infant boy, adoring my life, and reaching for my laptop so I could “pen a few lines to remember the day”.

Those lines exceeded 2500 words.

The next night I wrote another few thousand. And the night after that I did the same. I shared them with my wife who suggested I post them to Facebook where soon enough I had attracted a small army of “fans”. Long story short, I kind of forgot to stop writing. And every time we’ve taken a road trip since I’ve realized what is the bread and butter of this blog – road trips.

So tonight I present to you Day 1 of a new adventure on the asphalt ribbons of America.

Let’s start with the title. Every good story needs an apt title. The purpose of this trip for us is to visit my mother in New Jersey. And since we love my wife’s mother as well and she and my mom are great friends we asked her to come with us. So we’ll have one grandmother on the trip, another on the other side, and a whole lot of fun in between.

Best Mother-in-law ever!

The day began shortly before 3AM when I sprang from my bed, dropped to my knees in prayer, grabbed a cup of hot, black coffee, and hit the shower. My loving wife had stayed up most of the night getting the house ready to be abandoned for a month and packing the car. She insisted I get the rest since I’d be driving. It’s a guy thing. It’s literally the least I can do. I imagine myself in days of old, my family in the back of a coach and me on the bench up front driving the horses. I also imagine horses don’t scare me.

Typical Thursday morning at 5AM, Buc-ee’s
Yes, it’s a beaver.

A trip with us is like a trip to the DMV only not terrible or disgusting. However it does take all day to go a few inches. I was going to compare it to trench warfare but I thought it was too soon. Our first stop came just thirty minutes later as we pulled into Buc-ee’s. Click the link to look it up. It is pure Texas and pure awesome. I think we accidentally spent a hundred bucks there. Well, not me. I bought a black coffee and did 25 pushups in the parking lot. Off we go…

Every do push-ups on asphalt?

About two hours later, driving into the rising sun, we crossed the border into the Pelican State (Louisiana) at Shreveport. The kids and my wife slept soundly this whole time. My Mother-in-law Wilma remained awake long enough for the two of us to discover we were both halfway through a rosary (individually) and so we joined forces. Then she crashed. And I drove. Alone. For hours. Don’t feel bad. I got to count all the pine trees in East Texas along the way.

Perhaps it was the excitement of the rushing and mighty Big River but all my passengers seemed to awaken right before we crossed the Mississippi. After a bathroom break and photo op we stopped for lunch at a Cracker Barrel in Vicksburg. I got excited as we pulled off the highway. There, right next to the restaurant, was what looked to all the world like an outlet mall. They do come in handy on road trips for all the articles you suddenly remember forgetting to pack once you’re just out the door. Only this one was different. For starters it was only two strips of stores. And 98% of those were closed. As in, didn’t exist anymore. It was sadder than when my dog died in high school. Thank God for chicken fried steak.

Big River

As we barreled across Mississippi I decided it was time to indoctrinate the offspring by forcing them to listen to playing some selections my older sister made us listen to on road trips when I was their age. Linda Ronstadt, Boz Scaggs… I’m sorry. I almost drove off the road. Let’s listen to silence, kids! Silence sounds good.

Finally we crossed into Alabama where the stars fell. Not sure if that’s a tourist slogan or if a radiological waste site is actually contributing to the ethereal glow. It is a beautiful place. Here’s where it got really fun for me as a dad. When I was 12 my older brother had just graduated from West Point. Yes, that one. He set out on a trip to Birmingham to visit a friend from the Academy who had left two years earlier and was graduating from Auburn and he took me along for company. I remember the trip well and not just because my brother decided to make the 1000 mile return drive straight through but because our hosts took me to the Statue of Vulcan. Someone from Birmingham once visited New York Harbor and decided the Statue of Liberty would be nice overlooking their city. Instead they got Vulcan. Birminghamanians are proud of their city’s industrial roots so entrenched in the iron industry. In fact they’re known as “the Pittsburgh of the South” even though that city’s lifeblood was steel. Came up with that one all by themselves. Their history of segregation? Not so proud of that one. But they deal with that in several other really neat monuments. Hey, nobody’s perfect. Vulcan is really cool too. Perched on a very tall pedestal resembling a lighthouse, the deity looks out over Birmingham with an anvil at his side and an arrow in his raised hand. He’s even wearing a nifty apron round his waist. Unfortunately that apron was cut for a transparently smaller man. From the rear and shining on the Homewood neighborhood with the brilliance of a large celestial object is the exposed backside of a well-sculpted dude. God? Demi-god? It’s his butt. I remembered all of this and simply had to take my kids for the experience. Both kids laughed heartily when they saw it. Then we went to the top. My daughter even climbed the ten flights of stairs with me (had to get my workout in) and gleefully stepped out onto the viewing platform at the base of the Statue. Before freezing in terror.

I love Art Deco.
Seemed like the thing to do.
Note the abject fear in her eyes.
Perfect pose.

The platform was an open steel grid. Boy was that scary. I had to be brave so she wouldn’t cry. Inside I had three heart attacks. Not figuratively either. Ten stories up and a clear view of the ground below. Maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant plan after all.

Nonetheless we got our pictures and drove on. On our way to the hotel just north of town God must have known I hadn’t closed my exercise ring on my watch. An old woman sat in an old car in the middle of a busy street. She had broken down. My wife said “She needs help.” Good observation. I pulled over, jumped out, and like roaches scattering in a kitchen but in reverse two other people and I ran toward her car, dodging traffic, and pushed her a block to a safe spot.

They seem to enjoy this.

Finally in the hotel I “did the Dad thing”, even though I was beat, and jumped in the pool with my children. My wife went for food. Krystal’s. Never had ‘em? I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Wilma? She stayed in the room to pray. I needed it – the prayers that is. Later I closed out the day with a Walmart run. I forgot to pack my jumprope. It’s my daily cardio. I start every day with 30 minutes of high intensity jump rope before breakfast and vacation doesn’t change that. How else do you think I can do all this? Prayer? Oh, yeah that too. Made five trips back to the car for forgotten items, and finally cracked open a drink (if you can call it that) with my mother-in-law.

Alabama what now?

Which brings us to the present. Seems we have some 30 days ahead of us and many more adventures in store. I can’t promise more bareassed statues of Roman gods but I can promise lots of love and plenty of fun and a most thankful heart from this dad of two future saints.

Ready to join me? Let’s go.

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Posted in dad blog, Dad Stuff, Faith/Theology/Spirituality, Family, Fitness, Kids, Kids and Their Grandmas, Parenting, Road Journals, Sights, Travel

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Where We Are Right Now

Posted on April 7, 2019 | Leave a comment

I’ve been reading a lot of my older, archived posts to my son lately. It’s a fun trip down memory lane for both of us, except in his case he doesn’t really have a memory of most of it. The stories I’m reading him mostly happened when he was very young. Still I’ve observed some things.

Gosh, I’ve been having fun with this family of mine for a long time now. I look back and realize how much time has elapsed since these older posts were written and see how little has changed in the “Dad loves being Dad” department. It’s kind of like it was my calling or something.

My kids’ personalities were present even when they were super-small. Let me backtrack a moment. My kids were never super-small. Reading about their antics from 8 or 9 years ago I can clearly see large bits and pieces of who they are now and not even some kind of nascent, infantile hint of a trace. No, full on stuff here. Then again, I also see (to my chagrin since I strive to live a life of modestly false humility) that a certain someone who wrote those stories had a fat role in how their personalities formed. In other words, DNA strikes again.

I miss the old prompts. I started the writing of many of those posts as a response to a series of writing prompts. Granted I was always able to take those prompts in bizarre directions but that was a large part of the fun. Perhaps I’ll seek out new prompts.

Tonight I was wondering how I would answer this prompt I just made up (because I’m so clever)…

What are you doing right now?

I apologize to the Federation of Prompt-Writers because that one literally cried out to heaven for vengeance. But let’s go with it for a moment. Smile, sip, repeat. So what am I doing? Right now? Geez, so precise tonight. Oh wait, I wrote the prompt. I suck. OK, I’m sitting in my recliner, watching – wait for it – Nancy Drew. It’s the daughter’s choice. Yet somehow the four of us watched it. Actually, wife and son have fallen asleep and despite the fact that this cinematic gem features a leading actress who resembles Molly Ringwald (not an MR fan), daughter and I are invested in this nonsense. I’ve just finished grading a bunch of quizzes. I’m patting the head of my terrier who has come to sit by the side of my chair. He’s a good boy.

Not the movie we were actually watching but a close approximation. Or… This could be a representation of me trying to do deadlifts a few days after breaking my back.

Ask me the same tomorrow night and you’d get a completely different answer probably along the lines of “Currently doing crazy” or some variant. One thing I hope to say tomorrow night at this time is that I jumped back into some semblance of a workout. Despite my recent posts and my insistence that I was just going to ignore every shred of medical “advice” and hit the weights anyway; a few things changed my opinion. I’ll let you in on a secret. Broken bones hurt. And they need time and rest in order to heal. Fortunately my night job hasn’t been too busy lately so that covers that half of the day. But even doing mundane tasks like standing (as I do when I teach) can put stress of the spine. I ought to know this by now.

And the truth is that I do know this. But I also know how dedicated I’ve been to lifting and how I hate being told not to do something. So that next day I mentioned – the one where I was going to get back to my weights? Yeah, I decided I didn’t need anymore painkillers so I didn’t take ’em, see? Yeah, see… And no one could make me either! You just read that sentence in your mind as Jimmy Cagney. Now read this next one as Cagney and Lacey. Harv, how stupid are you!? By 8PM I knew I had made a mistake and that I would simply have to follow orders and rest. So that’s what I’ve done. And it’s only been two weeks since the break. I tried some basics tonight to see what I could manage. Knocked out a few sets of pushups. A set for me is at least 40 pushups so I think I’m at least able to ease back into this. I’ll play it smart and not overdo it and all that. And I still have some of those lovely little Tramadol things they gave me in case I go too far. And I’ll get those gains all over again.

The prompts never did tell us how to end.

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Posted in dad blog, Dad Stuff, Family, Fitness, weightlifting, Writing & Blogging

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The Rest

Posted on March 26, 2019 | 1 comment

My dear mother commented on my last blog (but on the reposting of it on Facebook, not here). I had mentioned that I think I got my “grit” from her. I learned long ago, kids, that your grandma was one tough cookie. I also learned that toughness does not mean one has to be cruel or brutish or a boor. She’s also one of the kindest, warmest, and most loving people you’ll ever know.

Her comment simply read “I love your grit as well.”

Thanks, Mom!

The Rest Is Over

Inspired by these words, children, I think your old man has had about enough rest and recuperation. A compression fracture certainly isn’t the end of the world. Come to think of it, the doctor didn’t even put me under any specific restrictions. That could be because it was almost 6:00 on a Saturday evening and I was their last patient. Nonetheless I believe in the old adage of listening to one’s body as a guide to pain management. And this body of mine is saying “Go on now, old man, time’s running out. You’re not getting any younger and you NEED to do something.” I still have these nifty painkillers they gave me and I’ll continue to take them as needed.

But tonight I was called out on four jobs requiring me to move a few hundred pounds worth of medical shipments. I was leery but you know what? I did it. I figured it out. I didn’t hurt myself (at least the pain hasn’t set in yet) and I survived.

I’ll probably never look like this dude. My feet point in different directions. And I only have two of them.

You know what that means? I’m getting back to the gym tomorrow. And when you read this years from now you’ll see that your dad was nothing if not determined. He’s determined not to be sidetracked. He’s determined not to let pain rule his life. He’s determined not to get soft. And he’s determined to continue to go after the hard things in life. I still don’t think I’ll go anywhere near a trampoline anytime soon but free weights?

Never Give Up

I can’t let myself down. I’m going to get shredded if it kills me

I can’t let you kids down. You deserve a dad who can physically do all you demand of him.

I can’t let the high school athletes down. They look up to me. On this last point I’m mystified because if they could have seen me when I was their age they would have kicked sand in my face assuming we were anywhere near a beach.

Life goes on, my children.

And for everything else… say it with me. “There’s Percocet!”

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