Reversing the Slow Sojourn to Fat City

 

All my life I have heard about the frog in a pot of water who dies not by suddenly being scalded but in the comfort of sitting in room-temperature water that slowly warms until the frog is boiled to death. I suppose that analogy explains a lot of human folly, including the manner in which we wake up one morning to find ourselves fat. Complacency, laxity, and bad habits slowly take their toll until we find, to our horror, that we look horrible and sometimes feel helpless to do anything about it.

I was heading in that direction, slowly inching my way back to Fat City. Fueled by the humiliation of being too heavy, especially by that image of the Overfed American in the hotel window, I was able to succumb to the rigors of the diet, but as I got my weight down, I grew more and more lax. That was the beginning of seeing my weight creep up to unacceptable levels.

Then there was another factor that contributed to my slow weight-gain: I replaced the 6 miles of running per day in the summer of 2005 with power yoga, and my weight increased to 230 over the next four years. In spite of my added weight, I refused to go back to the running for several reasons. One, the running gave me shin splints, plantar fasciitis, lower back pain, chafing, and sometimes headaches. I was sick of applying gobs of Vaseline between my thighs and across my nipples before every run and putting my reeking ammonia-soaked gym clothes in the wash. I was sick of having to buy a new pair of $100 running shoes every three months. I was sick of catching colds and other viruses, including pink eye, from the gym’s filthy cardio machines. I was sick of having to take a two-hour nap after my 6-mile runs and still not feeling refreshed. And I was simply sick of the gym. I had been going to health clubs since 1974 and by 2005 I had lost my tolerance for all the peacock strutters and self-ascribed training experts and other loathsome gasbags who frequented the gym.  

But most compellingly of all, I quit the gym because I had fallen in love with power yoga, the way it made me feel, the way it afforded me flexibility that I never had before, and the freedom it gave me to exercise at home. The problem is that power yoga does not burn calories like running. My one-hour treadmill runs resulted in a expenditure of 1,200 calories. In contrast, my yoga workouts burned about half that. To increase the calorie-burn of my workouts, I have incorporated high-rep dumbbell and medicine ball exercises into my power yoga routine, which I perform for an hour six days a week.

But in spite of my intense home workouts, which burn between 700-800 calories, my weight has crept up to 230.

Another thing I miss about the running is the safety net it affords me. If I indulge in some dessert or other, I can simply run it off. Without the running, I have the heightened anxiety that no matter how hard I work-out, one or two slices of boysenberry pie with vanilla ice cream could set me back for weeks.

This is the condition I find myself in August of 2008. Four years after reaching my target weight of 210, I’ve allowed myself to eat about 3,700 calories a day, resulting in a weight-gain of 20 pounds, the mid-way point of the 259-pound Overfed American traipsing around the Kauai Sheraton Inn.

Knowing this makes me very anxious. Something must be done. I do not want to be like the average American troglodyte who indulges his appetites without thought. I want to be in control of my life. I need a boundary in a country that embraces reckless excess. One boundary that I think I might be able to live with is 3,000 calories a day. It’s a good number for me. I’ve been stuck at 230 for about a year now so apparently 3,700 calories maintains my current weight provided I continue my intense home-exercise routine.

Getting my weight down should be a very simple math problem: There are 3,600 calories in a pound of fat. If I keep my calories at 3,000, that will be 4,900 fewer calories a week than I am currently consuming. Over six months, or 24 weeks, that would be 117,600 fewer calories consumed, which divided by 3,600 is 32.7 pounds of fat.

This number amazes me. I have to tell it to myself again and again. If I simply stick to 3,000 calories a day for six months and continue my current training, my weight will go from 230 to 198 pounds. That’s more than 10 pounds beyond my target weight. More importantly, I will no longer be marching toward Fat City. I’ll be marching to a much better place, a land of boundaries, discipline, self-control, and the self-confidence that comes from having a tight ass. Suddenly, my “vision” of 3,000 Calories a Day seems like a miracle and bringing it to fruition seems like the difference between heaven and hell. 

Comments

[Terry (The Social Contrarian)]

What the heck is wrong with being fat?

I'm so glad my eating habits and body image aren't informed by our psychotic and guilt-ridden mainstream media.

I bet you're not allowed to smoke cigarettes either.

[Ed S.]

While your efforts at good health are commendable, Jeff, I think you need to realize that half of all men who die of heart attacks had perfectly normal weight and cholesterol. If your genes are programmed for "big bones" (ie, fat), you have to accept that. Fat or thin, your body will always try to get back to it's natural "set point" for weight. Recent studies are showing that one can be fit AND fat. Slightly overweight people actually live longer. If I may be presumptious, your battle may not be against gaining weight, per se, but against growing old. Good luck with that! :)

[jeffrey McMahon]

Alas, I am aware of Set Point and will address it during my one year of keeping a food journal. And I concede I am raging against middle age.

Does the media establish guilt and unrealistic body images? Indeed it does, but excess is not the answer to anorexia. A reasonable approach must embrace moderation and I think 3,000 calories is just that.

[gerald johnson]

well, im 6-2" and 245. according to the fitness chart im supposed to weigh 187 lbs! hey if i can get to 220 ( my goal) ill be happy. oh, and jeff, please no more info on vaseline on the nips!

[Ed S.]

Also try a one-day-a-week fast if you really want to be an ascetic.

[jeffrey McMahon]

Ed,

I fasted once for 2 hours and almost fainted.

Gerald,

Those height and weight charts are bogus and rooted in gross ignorance. Professional bodybuilders weigh 275 at six feet and have 3% body fat.

If your blood pressure and cholesterol are normal, you're fine.

No more gobs of Vas for sure.

[Ed S.]

Jeff, if you keep talking like this you're going to turn into a woman.

[jeffrey McMahon]

The talk is that bad? The gobs of Vas? The vanity? Has the blog become a showcase for such folly? The radios are safer territory, more manly for sure.

[Ed S.]

Yep, buddy, somebody had to say it... real men don't talk about having a "tight ass"...at least not about themselves, that is.

[jeffrey McMahon]

I agree. What worries me is that the sarcasm didn't get through. Should I edit that?

[Ed S.]

Naw, don't edit. We all know (I hope) that your super-tasting tongue is planted firmly in (facial) cheek...