Simpson and Son's Revitalizing Tonic

So one of the promises made earlier this evening was an update on happenings at the gym. I'm sure you're all reading this breathlessly over your morning coffee and wondering what the hell I'm talking about. Well, keep reading friends, there've been three posts while you were sleeping. If you want to go read them in order, this will still be here after you've gotten your second cup.

OK, so everybody's back and caught up? Good. So stuff that's happening at the gym. The big news is that I signed up for the Equinox Equifit 30 Day Challenge. It's really not been that big of a deal thus far, since I'd already signed myself up for the same damn thing. I'm just hoping that I can win some fabulous cash and/or prizes that the gym is offering, since, you know, they've been stealing my money for the last four years. I think I'm in line for potentially two prizes, those for most times attended in 30 days, and most weight lost. I might win the third, but I can't remember what it was.

The story behind it is one of which my father would be proud. I impulsively signed up by one day after a workout. "Oh look, they're having a fitness challenge. That would tie in really well with the Did You Just Call Me Fat Twice? Fitness Challenge. Crap, I just made eye contact with the trainer manning the table. Look away, LOOK AWAY!"

"Wait, I don't have to avoid this guy. I want to sign up for this. Whaddaya know?"

As it turns out, that was an annoyingly made decision.

It was not for any reasons like "oh, I don't want to lose weight or hold myself responsible." It's annoying for the simple reason that the Equifit 30 Day fitness challenge is a total fraud designed to hold you captive for two hours worth of pitch meetings, like a potential retiree exploring time shares in Vail or Lauderdale.

Not that I'm bitter.

And yes, I'm overusing the "paragraph pause as comic delivery" method.

Also probably the "should-probably-be-hyphenated-quotes" method.

Anyhoo, the pitch meeting. They get you signed up for the Challenge, then tell you that in order to qualify for the prizes you have to get a fitness assessment with a qualified trainer. Fine, whatever, I understand you guys have to make sure I'm not going to pass out and die during a corporately sponsored event. Let's get me weighed, measured and evaluated, you can give me the rates on personal training, I can laugh and tell you that I'm unemployed, we'll move on. But the kicker here is that they also offer you a free personal training session to help get your Challenge started on the right foot. I'm not one to turn down a free anything at this particular point in 2009, although I did expect that the workout was going to leave me incapable of movement for three or four days since that was what happened the last time I got a personal training session. Instead, I got a surprisingly dull workout warmup and assessment, then a thirty minute discussion of a sixteen week program that I could do that would guarantee me a weight loss of sixty pounds. The workout was four times a week for sixteen weeks, at $60 a pop if I paid for all the personal training sessions in full up front. If my middle-of-the-night math is accurate, that's about $3840. Umm, no thanks. Again, unemployed.

But what really got to me about this particular scheme was the implication from my trainer that I was doing things wrong, and this would severely hamper my ability to lose any weight whatsoever. Apparently my cardio plan is ineffective, my weightlifting is faulty, my form sucks, and my quads and calves are out of balance. Fine, I can understand that, but at this point, I feel like my weight loss challenge is mostly about discipline like I've never seen before. Actually working out and eating healthy for extended periods of time is going to help me at least get down to a place where I feel the trainer can come in and do some refining. It's the whole Michelangelo didn't chisel away the rough rock, he only came in for the finer carving once the assistants had cleared most of the excess away.

Now that I think about it, that didn't even really get my goat that badly. This guy is just trying to make a living after all. What really irked me were the promises to discuss my cardio workouts and make them more efficient, then when I asked about what I could do, getting the response of "Well, I can help you, but I'd have to monitor every cardio workout you do for the next sixteen weeks." Really, Keith? I'm going to pay you sixty bucks an hour to stand on the next treadmill and press buttons for me? I don't think so. I'm not sure why this bugged me so badly, since it's probably a great business model for the Lincoln Park-located gym. All I know is that it smacked of dishonesty and manipulation. So screw these guys, I'm going to do this on my own. Now, off to bed for me. I've got an interview on Wednesday.

Radio silence

So obviously one of the things that's new and exciting around here is the weight loss challenge between me and Alice. The only problem is, I have no idea how she's doing over in Blighty. And yes, I learned that term from my lone British friend here in Chicago. The lack of communication isn't Alice's fault. She's just been crazy busy with a new job, and we haven't had much time to catch up lately, especially considering our only method of communication right now is via the text message chat on our iPhones. Although I suppose I could have sent an actual email from my actual account to hers, I just haven't wanted to bother her while she's getting acclimated to a new environment. As a result, I have no news to report at all on the progress of the challenge.

In a way, I'm pretty happy with those results. Obviously I'd love to hear from Alice in general, and specifically that she's absolutely destroying me in the challenge once again. But I'm taking the lack of external competition updates and filtering them through my desire to keep working hard in the absence of information. What I've come up with is the good news that I think this program is gonna stick. It's not a competition this time, just a simple determination that I'm going to make myself follow through on this no matter how long it takes. Though, seriously, I'm really hoping to see some more significant results in the next month as a result of the weightlifting and cardio. Through day ten of the competition, approximately last Thursday, I was down one pound. It was frustrating, but I'm taking the improvement in blood pressure as the reward for now and pressing on. Keep it tuned here, kids, and hopefully we'll have a more meaningful update on the competition some time in the near future.

Catching up

Hey folks, lot's happening the last few weeks here at NOTMY HQ. Things have been heating up on the job front, with some solid leads and meetings that might actually result in me getting out of the house on a daily basis. Other than my frequent trips to the gym that is. Let us not forget those. Because I am serious when I tell you that I have been working out at or above a sixth grade level for the past three weeks.

What? You don't believe me?

OK, having reread that first paragraph, I can see why you might be inclined towards a certain amount of disbelief. Well, that first paragraph and the entire span of my life in which I've had this blog. But this time things really have been different. I've been hitting the cardio for four to five hours a week, and am starting to work in the weightlifting this week in preparation for some unfortunately timed carbo-, protein- and fat-loading on Thursday. Freakin' Thanksgiving, scourge of the weight-loss competitor opposed by someone across the pond. My only hope is that Alice hasn't gone completely native, and decides to celebrate the religious oppression of her British forbears by cooking up one honker of a turkey. Perhaps even Turducken? With some delicious buttery mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, sweet potato marshmallow casserole and pumpkin pie?

Help me out here, Shirley.

Where was I? Ah yes, the regular working out. It's going pretty well. I feel better, my blood pressure is down ten points on the high and low since I started, and I'm sleeping much better. I haven't seen the weight loss numbers that I thought would correspond with all this cardio, but for now I'm telling myself that it's related to the creation of a base of muscle that will enable some rapid loss later in the year. The good news is that I'm not discouraged by the lack of pounds lost. I'm still going to the gym with my brother four and five times a week, and have started to make some new acquaintances. (More on this in the next post in about five minutes) I'm slowly moving away from "sketchy guy who comes in once a week" towards "gym regular," and it feels pretty good.

Now if only we could do something about that stinking economy.

Working hard, or hardly working?

My brother and I have had an ongoing argument about exercising for the past two years, give or take a few months. It's not the usual brotherly dustup about who's drunker than whom*, or whether Eric Gagne should be a starter or reliever**. We've been arguing at a very low level about the benefits of cardio on the various elliptical machines found on the floor at most decent gyms. He's vehemently anti-machine, and I'm mildly pro-Skynet.

*fake, though probably one that could and should have been discussed at many points in the last eight years.
**Sadly, a real historical argument that ended badly.

As currently constructed, the argument goes something like this.

CT: "Those cardio machines don't challenge you enough to truly get you in shape."

BT: "I'm out of shape so badly that I need to build up to the more strenuous stuff."

CT: "You don't challenge yourself enough to make any progress."

BT: "Shut up, I hate you....pass me the french fries."

Obviously that's a rough translation, but it neatly encapsulates much of my weight loss efforts to date. Work on the easier stuff with an eye towards increasing intensity at a later date, while not really doing much about my diet.

Well I'm happy to report that is not the case as of the beginning of last week. I went grocery shopping at Whole Food and elsewhere, and have been making my own balanced meals, including lots of fruit and vegetables, whole grains and chicken and turkey in lieu of red meat. In addition, I've been to the gym five times in the last eight days, and meeting my minimum goal of exercising at least four times every week. I've increased my exercise times on the machines, and started tracking my progress lifting weights. Basically I've been doing all the things I set out to do at the beginning of this chronicle two years ago.

It's nice to be motivated for the first time in what seems forever, and it's a topic we'll be discussing more of in the weeks to come. Hell, there might be some graphs and pie charts and stuff. Suggestions are welcome. Cheers.

Answering the Bell

Hi there, dear readers. I hope you're ready for an exciting new announcement here on NOTMY.

Waiting...

Waiting...

OK, here it is. After much free international texting on WhatsApp for the iPhone, Alice and I have decided to rekindle our weight loss competition. Since she's so busy with the new job and all, neither of us has posted in quite a while, but I'm taking the liberty of releasing this bombshell on the world while Alice is working her 9 to 8 job. The rules are the same as last time. While I don't exactly remember what those are, having started this post without reviewing, I recollect it went a little somethin' like this:

-Weigh-ins are on Monday morning, weekly for four weeks.
-Contestants are on the honor system for reporting.
-No metric system allowed. It's the King's ludicrous measure of weight or nothing.
-To protect the dignity of the participants, measurement will start at zero and decrease to negative numbers as weight is (hopefully) lost by both participants.

Technically I believe there was a final requirement for a certain amount of posting by each of the participants, describing our ordeals and tribulations and successes. I'm fairly certain Alice will not be fulfilling those parts of her duties for reasons described above. So you will have to settle for me and my reporting. Wish us luck, follow us here on the blog and perhaps check my Twitter account for news of new postings. I can be found at www.twitter.com/Blako36. Cheers.

Blako and Alice.

JRR Tolkien would be proud

Hey all, by which I obviously mean my four dedicated readers. Who anxiously check this blog hoping beyond hope that this is the month I decided to post for the sixth time in 2009. And clearly love me far more than I deserve. Though this love has not manifested itself in anything resembling an offer to clean my condo, nor drive me to the grocery store.

(sigh)

As usual, I digress, albeit more whiningly than usual.

No comments, please.

Where was I? Oh, right. Continuing this blog's strongest theme, I'm back and promising to write more frequently than historically has been the case. Laugh if you've heard this one before. Mostly it's just a case of me being really bored, and deciding that it's been too long since I've written anything longer than a Facebook status update, or more interesting than a cover letter. We'll have some new features, some positive mental attitude, and also as usual, overly descriptive stories about trying to go to the gym and failing. Get excited!

Uncertainty

I write this latest post with no knowledge whatsoever of what my competition is doing. As certain readers have noted, there's been an astonishing amount of silence from the participants in the DYJCMF challenge. (By the way, while we're on the subject, we need to come up with a new name for round 2 of this challenge, Alice. I swear it takes me a full minute to type DYJCMF.) I am sorry about that, especially for the newer readers who haven't yet gotten used to being disappointed by NOTMY on a regular basis. Had a bit of a busy week two weeks ago, when I was getting an application to work for the FDIC ready, as well as meeting with some people about this damnable job search. So there was exercising being done, I just didn't have time to write about it.

So I'll give you an update now. The week four weight loss was either nil, or plus eight pounds, depending on a quirk of measurement. You see, the weekend that ended week four was spent in Louisville for my brother's 30th birthday. The diet that weekend mainly consisted of beer, whiskey, soda water and cheeseburgers. So I got back on Sunday, weighed myself on Monday, and the scale showed I had put on eight pounds. That was a bit of a shocker, as you can imagine. All my hard work had been erased in a single weekend of debauchery. So I hit the gym on Monday after weighing myself, and tried to kill off the remnants of a pretty decent hangover. Tuesday morning, I weighed myself again just to see what the deal was, and I was back to my week three weight, -5.6 pounds. I don't really know what happened, other than perhaps the combo of high sodium and lots of water consumed to kill the hangover left me looking at the scale in disbelief. I'm just glad that the weight gain wasn't permanent. I'm chalking that one up to a warning about working out, abusing alcohol, and not eating right.

The good news is this, after the initial panic of Monday, I continued the normal regimen, including a cardio kickboxing class, and lost another three pounds. So we're down 8.5 for the challenge, dear readers. Hoping that I can sneak out a serious come-from-behind victory, though it's looking doubtful at this point. I'm checking with Alice as we speak about the deadline for this contest, but it's coming down to the wire, and I've got some serious work to do. More to come soon.

The Follow Through

So part three of this begins with a discussion of exactly how sore my legs got from three sets of squats. I should have known I was in trouble the night of the class, since we both know, dear reader, damn well that I haven't done squats or lunges in months. Compounding the deserved lack of shock is the fact that I could literally feel my quads swollen beyond their normal size as of late. I mean, it was like I had actual leg muscles again from the good old days playing soccer. I conveniently ignored these facts until Thursday morning, when getting out of bed, then walking to the couch, then sitting down all caused me to groan in agony. It turns out that doing squats also activates your glutes in a fierce way. Fun times.

So the weekend came, and there was much standing around at the Hawks game, which was bad, but not as bad as it could have been. Dare I say, I felt like my legs responded pretty well to the beating I put on them Monday and then Wednesday. There comes a point with leg workouts for me that is particularly noticeable, when I build up enough muscle to keep my knees from aching like crazy while working out, standing around, walking down the street. We've hit that point in the three weeks of working out, and it's pretty great. It makes doing everything a much easier proposition. Walking places instead of taking the bus becomes an option, ditto for riding the bike.

Anyway, point of all this is that I really am enjoying the fruits of my labor. I feel good, and I am losing a pretty decent amount of weight in weeks where I really push myself. And so Monday came around again last night, and I hit the abs class for the second week in a row. I still feel a bit like a fish out of water, and am definitely working my way up to grace with the workouts, but it seems like I'm over the fear of being the out of shape loser taking a class. If anything, I was motivated to go back and prove that the class didn't get the better of me. My stomach is getting sore on pace with the last week, but I performed at a higher level this class than I did last week. That, my friends, is progress. Boring, steady progress.

The Aftermath

So, we're setting up this story in at least two parts, and perhaps more if the mood strikes me. For those of you who are just checking in, you'll probably want to read from the bottom up, since lots of this won't make sense otherwise. Continuing our story from last time, let's check in with our hero.

"Hey there self, day one after the class doesn't feel so bad. My legs were dead tired after those squats last night, but perhaps all that time on the elliptical will keep me from getting sore. Thus far, abs feel good, definitely a little sore, but firmer. And hey, will you look at that! I've lost two pounds since yesterday!"

"Hey, self, it's now Wednesday, approximately 40 hours after taking the class, and sure, you're a little sore, but that's the price you pay for getting a good workout in. We've got a busy day, so let's go to the gym and get in a tough 45 minutes on the elliptical, then go fill out the application for the new job lead, and head to rehearsal for the Friday gig."

"Couple beers couldn't hurt when you're at rehearsal, right? Right. Besides, if you were going to get sore, you'd have done so by now. It's been forty eight hours."

"Hmph. Wassat? No, Indy, I don't think we should check out that snake pit. It looks. dangero...OWWWW! HOLY MERCIFUL MOTHER OF GOD, SOMEONE IS STICKING A KNIFE INTO MY STOMACH. CRAP, CRAP, CRAP, CRAP. OWWWWW!"

In case you couldn't tell, that was my internal dialogue at various points in the days after the workout. I was fine, then in excruciating pain for forty-eight hours from Wednesday to Friday, then surprisingly not bad again on Friday. I even went and chased some softballs around a field with Dollar Bill and BILF on Friday. Felt a bit lighter on my feet, and even managed to run down a few when they were hit in my general direction. Things were setting up nicely for part three.

Sneaking Out the Back

Greetings, loyal readers, and fellow competitors in the DYJCMF challenge. It's been a while since posting, and I am definitely in egregious violation of the DYJCMF agreement. Luckily, Alice hasn't exactly been pulling her weight over in London, both on the blog front and unfortunately for me, quite literally. She's down 14 pounds. She's kicking my ass in this challenge. The good news is that there are no real losers here. I'm proud of Alice and her hard work. She's certainly forcing me to be more disciplined than usual. So it's with a small sense of accomplishment that I am happy to report a week three weigh-in loss total of 5.6 pounds.

To catch you guys up, that's a total of +1.4 pounds for the first week (going the wrong direction!), a net loss of 0.6 pounds to the good for week two, and a net loss of 5.6 pounds for week three. I lost two pounds in the second week, and five pounds in week three, for those of you who don't like doing the math. So for now, I'm losing the contest by 8.4 pounds. However, I like my chances to catch up in the next few weeks, and I'll tell you why.

Eight days ago, in the face of a seven pound weight loss in one week from Alice, my brother finally talked me into taking a class at the gym with him. He's claimed for a while now that it's the same as hiring a personal trainer, but you don't have to pay someone an additional 120 bucks per session. Now the reason I'd never taken one before wasn't because I didn't believe him, but that I was afraid to walk in there, take five minutes of the class, pass out, throw up or some combination of the two, and then leave a defeated sweaty mess. But desperate times call for desperate measures. So, I gathered my dignity, wrapped it in a towel, and tossed it in the trash just outside Workout Studio 1. My brother set me up with all the accoutrements for Abs/Total Body Lifting, padded mat, medicine ball, hand weights, and best of all, a spot in the back by the door.

So we were sitting there way early, watching people filter in, grab mats and find spots. Not just any people, mind you, pretty much the Greek goddesses of Lincoln Park all walk in, give me the stinkeye, and take their places. We're talking about pretty much the creme de la creme of the Equinox fitness crowd. The kind of people who interview for jobs like "Girl in Bikini #1" and sideline on-air talent for ESPN. Turns out I've been working out with the peons out on the floor. It was intimidating as all hell. (side note for the fellas, despite the intimidation factor, the scenery was definitely motivating. Sorry, ladies.)

Anyway, class started, and I gave it the old college try. There was a bit of a learning curve with all the moves, and a bit of trying to decipher the overhead sound system, but I made it through the first fifteen minutes of class winded but feeling ok. Of course, the first fifteen minutes were the Abs portion. Even at my best, I wasn't nearly at the level of everyone else in class, although I tried. Then came the second part, the Total Body Lifting. We started out with three sets of twelve squats each, while holding a medicine ball. I can't really tell you what happened after that, because the abs workout caught up with me, I got really lightheaded, and stepped out for a drink of water. Once I got out into the cool air, I was done for. The lightheadedness turned into full on threat of passing out, and I got pretty nauseous. So I made it into the locker room upstairs, sat down on the couch, and pretty much sat there a defeated sweaty mess. And I felt great.

Sure, I realized that I'm way out of shape compared to people who've taken those classes for months, or even people who haven't, but it felt good to have broken through the initial resistance and fear to try something I knew was going to suck. I'm still not ready for the Total Body Lifting class any time soon, but it's become clear how much work I have to put in to get there.

Relative Humidity and Meteorites

As Alice so graciously explained, we're going on a reporting basis where weight loss starts at zero, and gets reported in negative numbers from there. Unless of course, YOU DIDN'T LOSE ANY WEIGHT THIS WEEK AND INSTEAD PUT ON 1.4 POUNDS! To borrow a phrase I learned from one of our regular readers, &$%# my *@@ with your uncle's *#!#. I apologize for the vulgarity, dear readers.

I could not be more shocked, since this definitely was a week where I behaved myself, ate right, and worked out. So for now, I'm chalking this one up to a wee fluke in the system, one that can be explained by a host of factors including the relative humidity in my condo after a morning of rain and its corollary effects on the water loss (or lack thereof) normally contained in my exhalations as I sleep. Plus, I put on some muscle mass this week after hitting the weights pretty hard. And is it just me, or does the relative gravity of the Earth seem to be a wee bit greater this week? Perhaps we've seen some meteorites around the world with particularly high concentrations of heavy metals? We got any amateur astronomers out there in the reading public? I'll give you a dollar if you back me up here.

No matter, this is why bets of this nature aren't decided in the short term. I'm going to the gym early tomorrow, and attending my first ever exercise class on Wednesday night (Beginner's Yoga with CT). I'll ride my bike in the mornings and lift weights at night if need be. There's no way this can happen two weeks in a row, right? Perhaps Mundy will get to hear about the effects of the master cleanse from an unexpected party this month. At the very least, we'll get some amusing posts about how badly I injured myself in yoga class. Maybe some poor lass will take pity on me and strike up a conversation about how to best extricate yourself from shockingly basic yoga poses locked into place by shockingly painful muscle cramps. There's the silver lining I've been looking for.

Beer 4, Catholicism 1, Townsley 3

So the grand experiment came to an end this weekend. I was alcohol free for 21 days, during which time I saw several shows, hung out with friends at the bar, and generally had fun. And I missed having a beer pretty much the entire time. There were perks to the process, including not dealing with hangovers on Saturdays and Sundays, and being able to drive friends around after they'd had a few beers of their own, but I didn't do much that wouldn't have been improved by a beer or two.

At first, I had really mixed feelings about the fact that every time I turned around, I wished I could have a beer. It seemed like a crutch I should be able to do without, and I was irritated by the urge to have one. And so for three weeks I held out, determined to prove that I could be social, have fun, and do it completely sober. And then last night hit, and I had four beers. Normally, I'd find some dramatic reason to justify the fact that I broke off the experiment early, but the truth is that I was just really sick of sitting around in bars with friends and not having one.

You know what? It was pretty awesome. I sat at Charlie's Ale House with a bunch of good friends from school, had some great conversations with friends I hadn't talked to in a few weeks, and drank four beers. I don't know for sure if the behavior modification I had promised Tim and Sara ad nauseam over the last three weeks will stick, but last night it felt like beer and I had changed the way we hang out. I wasn't drinking for something to do, but as something I consciously decided to enjoy. I didn't have a beer in my hand at all times, and I wasn't itching for the waiter to bring me another as soon as the current one was empty. I had a really fun night, went home feeling good, and woke up feeling good. It was a small step towards a more disciplined life, but I think it was a good one, and I'm looking forward to seeing it continue.

As for the "Catholicism 1" part of the title, my good friend Sarah Tupper was confirmed into the Catholic church last night. Score one for the Vatican as far as I'm concerned. Now if only they could do something about those three hour Easter masses.

One final note, this post has had very little to do with the DYJCMF Challenge with Alice. This is what happens when you make an agreement to write a certain number of posts per week, Shirls. I'll be back on topic tomorrow after the weigh-in. Last time I checked, I was down about three pounds on the week, after exhibiting some of that newfound discipline in my diet and exercise regimen. Hope everyone had a great holiday weekend, and is ready for week two. Cheers, kids.

Hmm, lunch much?

OK, I've been good so far for three days. Eating right, worked out on Monday, headed to the gym in fifteen minutes with my brother. But like Alice on Monday, I'm hungry. I think I might have overdone it on the "eating right" at lunch. I had a chicken breast sandwich and a glass of orange juice, but not much else. I'm definitely feeling a little shaky prior to the gym trip, and probably should have had a bit more to eat, or at least an afternoon snack of some sort. I definitely meant to, as I recognized that what I had for lunch wasn't sufficient to keep me going through a gym trip all the way to dinner. Lost track of time writing some cover letters today, and now it's too late. Oh well, I'll have to consider this one a lesson learned for the next few weeks, and be sure to keep myself from overindulging at dinner tonight just because I'm hungry now. Assuming I don't pass out on the elliptical in twenty minutes, shouldn't be too hard.

And so it biggens

The contest between Alice and me begins today. And while I was sleeping in, thereby minimizing the possible hours for me to eat today, Alice was being tempted by foreign pastries, getting ready for a visit from her parents, and soliciting diet suggestions. I don't mean to get cocky, but clearly I'm ahead of the game here. I'm avoiding alcohol for the next few weeks, am cutting out deep fried foods from my diet, eating more fresh fruit, and exercising six days a week. What could possibly go wrong there? The only thing I have to do is summon more willpower and discipline than ever before in my life, and sustain that for approximately six weeks. That's only forty-two days. A mere 1008 hours, a piffling 60,480 minutes, a measly 3,628,800 seconds. A trifle really. A piece of cake. Ha! Get it? Trifle? Cake? Mmm, cake.

Dammit! No! Must not think of how long that really is, must think of winning, mustn't think of delicious cake.

This may be harder than I thought. I'm off to bed.

The H is O

Unlike my esteemed fellow blogger, Alice Ockleshaw, I'm no good at punny titles. This is something for which she's mocked me on more than one occasion. Despite her, ahem, encouragement, I still can't do it. This leaves me tending towards thematically related titles for my (occasionally bi-) monthly posts. Today is no exception to that rule. While the SNL video I apparently got the Glenn Frey reference from is pretty disturbing, I hope you'll agree that it represents some exciting things happening here at NOTMY. At the very least, perhaps The H is O will reenter the vernacular as one of Will Ferrell and Ben Stiller's funnier contributions. Or not.

"What the hell is he rambling about," you may be asking yourself. Well, dear readers, it boils down to this. We're entering a new initiative here at Not On The Moon, Yet. While unemployment has been good to me in terms of getting to the gym more, and cooking for myself, it's been really bad for the amount of nights I've spent drinking in the past month or so. For a while, there was a birthday to celebrate, and St. Patrick's Day, and all manner of reasons to celebrate various achievements of friends with a few beers. After a particularly sudsy weekend at the Barrett farm in Wisconsin, I realized that my attitudes about alcohol needed some review and sober contemplation, literally. So after giving my social calendar about ten days to clear itself, I decided to set a date after which I was going to be sober for a period of no less than three weeks, and hopefully as many as five.

The five week goal was no coincidence, though it probably seems an odd number to choose. I'm currently in the middle of a twelve week weight loss bet with my good friend, Stacey. From March 21st, the date I chose to stop drinking, it was five weeks until the end of the bet. I figured that cutting out alchohol for that period of time might help me to sneak ahead in a bet I was losing, having leveled off in my quest to lose weight after about fifteen pounds. While the weight loss was no sure thing, I figured that sobriety would help me clarify sauce-resultant behaviors that were counterproductive, as well as allow me to get to the gym more frequently on the weekends and such.

So far, I'm ten days in to the test, and doing pretty well. I was out last Saturday all day with Package Barnett and Dario, eating chicken wings and watching the basketball tournament. Normally these two activities would be screaming for me to have a few beers, and maybe a few more after that. I am not going to lie to you, dear reader, I was sorely tempted to break my promise and have a few beers with my wings. Surprisingly though, the temptation passed after an initial round of willpower prevailed. I felt pretty ok about the whole thing, and better about the fact that I could be a sober driver for Patrick and Dario after a long day of basketball watching. I've been getting up earlier, getting out of the house more, accomplishing much more on the weekends than was ever possible with the recent spate of hangovers and late nights. It's been great.

So what have I realized about myself? Well, first of all, that quitting drinking for any period of time is way harder for me than quitting cigarettes ever was. I get the itch to drink a beer or have a cocktail far more frequently than I realized while I was actually allowed to have them without a second thought. The flip side of this is that I do have the willpower to say no in social situations where previously alcohol would have been a requirement to have fun, while still enjoying myself and my friends' company. This enjoyment has also made me realize that when I do go back to drinking, the fourth and fifth rounds, and pretty much all the rounds after three, aren't necessarily required for me to enjoy myself or my friends, so perhaps it's ok not to binge drink and still be social. Besides, I'm at the point in my life, as are most of my friends, where being the drunken idiot is no longer funny, it's just embarrassing. Does this mean that perhaps I'm going to spend less time at the bars with friends if I only have a few drinks? Probably does, yeah. Does this mean that I'll be able to get up at a reasonable hour without feeling like crap or resorting to eating unhealthy junk to fix my hangover? Probably does, yeah. There's a balance to the entire endeavor that I'm looking forward to once consumption resumes. While seeing less of my friends at two am is a potential result, I'm kinda ok with that. Overall, I'm feeling pretty good about this entire endeavor, and the results seen in my workout plan. Although some times it makes me feel old rather than grown up. I'm fighting that thought process as immature.

So what does all this mean, five paragraphs after referencing the topicality of The H is O? (And why do I keep starting paragraphs with questions?) Well, you see, part of this post is for me to publish my thoughts in order to organize them. It's all part of changing my behaviors in the future, and one of the original purposes of writing this blog. The second part is that as I was communicating the seeds of these thoughts to Alice, she got extremely enthusiastic about the idea of a weight loss competition, for health reasons as well as for blog motivation for each of us. Each of us has lost our way a bit when it comes to writing on a consistent basis. So we're challenging each other to a contest. There will be no divulgence of actual weights of our persons, per typical NOTM,Y policy, but we will be keeping track of the amount of weight lost and reporting it on at least a weekly basis, with the winner of the contest treated to a fancy dinner in May when Alice and Alex come to town. Blog posts will be sallied back and forth, hyperlinks will be linked (once I learn how, thanks Shirley), banter will ensue. You'll enjoy it. Or at least, we think you will. Either way, I will be entertained and motivated by Alice's efforts, and hopefully she by mine. Hopefully you'll agree, and everyone will be the better for it.

So that's it for now. I just have one thing left to say to you, the readers, and Alice.

The H is O, y'all. The H is O.

Groundhog Day

Yes, the title is a reference to the infamous Bill Murray movie, and not the recently passed marketing event for a skidmark of a town in Pennsylvania. (Side note: No offense to the NOTM,Y fan club of Punxsutawney. Double secret side note: No, I didn't have to look up the spelling of Punxsutawney, I'm a nerd.) I just logged on after a six week "vacation" from blogging, and reread the last three posts. All of them were spaced about a month apart, and all of them promised that they were the beginning of a flurry of posts about working out, experiences at the gym, health food kicks and spandex pants and spin classes. Oh my.

Well, you know the story, I'm very sorry, your Honor. It'll never happen again, your Honor. Etc. I sincerely do feel bad every time Tim or Alice ask me about the blog, and it's the first time I've thought of it in weeks. Or worse, when Alice links to it on her blog (thanks, Alice), thereby potentially motivating her very smart and very funny friends to actually check in and read me, and I haven't posted in days (thanks, Alice). I mean, that was a golden opportunity to get a ton of new readers hooked on NOTM,Y, with its lurid tales about naked men in locker rooms and flirtatious, attractive women in skimpy outfits. Because that's what we're all about here at Not On The Moon, Yet. Wait for it. That's right, The Sex. As in Sex, Having The.

Wait, dammit, no we're not. We're a health blog, as Alex so kindly put it to one of his friends. (Privately, I refer to it as Winey Fatasse's Interminable, Narcissistic Traveling Salvation Show. Makes it sound French, you see.) Anyway, we, ok, I started this blog to keep track of my progress in losing a hundred pounds, with great intentions that writing about it would keep me from faltering in my quest. Unfortunately, it became one other thing to get shoved aside in favor of more important things like practicing for my annual cover band performance, and getting fired. Which is too bad, really, because there's good news to report. Not about getting fired, I'm still looking for a new job, but rather about the working out and eating well.

For those of you who don't already know, and I doubt there's many of you at this point, I've lost twelve pounds in the last three weeks. Turns out that a bunch of free time to make your own meals and work out at one's leisure can have a significant impact on one's weight loss goals. That's the secret really. I got fired, freaked out that I wasn't going to have any money left, and ordered Peapod, sticking to the really easy and healthy simple things I've always known I should eat but never had time to make. No ordering food, which means no double portions disguised as one, plenty of working out. It's a simple thing really. I should have gotten fired ages ago.

So that's the update for now. Been working out more and eating better. Seems to be working, which is good, since I've got a bet going with my friend, Stacey, and I have to lose a lot of weight in order to beat her. As usual, I'm promising to write more posts about working out, gym culture, joblessness and why I want to move to Phoenix/San Diego despite Alice's best efforts to convince me that London is a tropical paradise in January. Maybe this time I'll even get to it since I'm spending much more time looking for reasons to stop writing cover letters and goof off. If not, Tim B and Alice can just yell at me for not spicing up their work days. If you guys have anything you want to hear about, leave me a post in the comments, and I'll catch you guys soon.

Cheers,
BT