Winnipeg Free Press

Sorry it’s been a while since I blogged, but I have an excuse, I’ve been on the road. Last week we headed to Minneapolis for the annual Back to the ’50s car show. It was an awesome event with more than 12,000 cars on display and 125,000 spectators. The annual event is held at the Minnesota State Fairgrounds, a huge fenced in area about the size of the University of Manitoba campus.

Amidst all the cars is a huge assortment of vendors, including all the foods one would expect at a carnival type atmosphere. 

Since starting my weight loss journey in January I have been doing my best to avoid fast food, but I have to admit, last weekend I ate some type of greasy meat on a stick, had some potato skins smothered in sour cream, cheese and bacon, ate about 6 pieces of pizza and a couple of cheeseburgers.

It wasn’t that I wanted to eat such bad food, but the reality was down at the show there wasn’t a fruit or vegetable in miles.

The same rang true on the road, as we looked for spots to stop and eat on the way, it suddenly became apparent that I should have packed a lunch. In America there is a fast food restaurant every thirty feet, all the common names, like McDonald’s, KFC and Burger King call out from massive neon signs, and there are even a few we don’t have here, like White Castle and Jack in the Box.

Sure there is Subway, and it worked for Jared, but the truth is one can only eat so many subs in a week. So, I found myself eating Burger King, and it made me feel lousy.

This got me thinking, how can a country the size of America, and even Canada for that matter, not have a chain of fast food restaurants that caters specifically to people who want to eat healthy. I mean, they have retail stores that cater to everyone, in Mall of America you can buy a jacket for your dog, get a massage, heck, you can even go on a rollercoaster, but if you’re looking for a healthy lunch, forget about it.

If I was in the restaurant business I’d be thinking long and hard about starting a chain of healthy fast food joints, places that feature tasty and healthy menu choices.

This week I gained five pounds on the road, and it will surely take me at least two weeks to burn it off. I’m not totally bummed out by this, and realize that I could have stopped at a grocery store and picked up some healthy foods, but who has time to do that in our fast paced world, especially when on holidays.

It’s time for corporate America to realize that not everyone who eats fast food wants fat food, and to finally coin a franchise that caters to those of us fed up with all that grease.

If it was me, I’d call it “You are what you eat”…….

Cheers and thanks for stopping by!

A funny thing happened the other day. My friend Dave’s wife Barb, who hadn’t seen me in a while, told me I had lost too much weight. While she didn’t go so far as to say it, she basically told me I was looking unhealthy. For a bit of background, Barb and I aren’t always nice to one another, think of a ’70s sitcom and that about sums it up. In fairness to her I have taken her man away on numerous occasions for a variety of hare brained adventures, so coming from Barb it initially didn’t really bother me. But…the more I thought about what she said, the more I started to wonder how many other folks preferred me when I weighed 275.

Today I’m tipping the scales at about 230, although I haven’t weighed myself in a week or more, I’ve been watching what I eat, and have been fairly active. So why would Barb suggest that I was looking too “skinny” as she put it.

Perhaps I was overweight for so long that people aren’t prepared for the new me. Maybe in some weird way, they were more comfortable around me when I was all jolly and chubby. It seems weird, but it’s almost as though there are a few people in my life who don’t want me to achieve my weight loss and fitness goals. I have no idea why, but they offer me cookies and cake, pizza and burgers, all the while fully aware of how difficult this journey has been for me.

These same people have always supported me, whether it’s my career or my hobbies, or my music, but for some strange reason, they don’t seem to like the fact that I am trying to change my outward appearance.

It makes me wonder if anyone else has ever experienced this strange phenomenon?

I’d love to hear from you if you have.

And for my friends, like Barb, I just wanted to add, that even though I may look different, I’m still the same old Willy, there’s just a bit less of me!

And no, I’m not sick…in fact, I feel better than ever.

Cheers and thanks for stopping by.

Summer. Apparently it is on the way.

When the summer months roll around, folks bring out the summer clothes, shorts, tank-tops, and for many men, summer is a chance to take off their shirts and get some sun on their shoulders.

This reminds me of my youth. We were always playing some sort of sport, usually in the summer it was either football, or basketball. The part I hated the most was when we played shirts or skins. Simply put, one team wears shirts, the other wears none.

I hated this.

I’d try and hide until the last pick was made, or even refuse to remove my shirt. Rather than argue with me, my friends would let me play on the shirt team.

There was usually girls watching.

To say I lacked confidence in the shirtless games would be a considerable understatement. The reality is, for the majority of my life I have been very uncomfortable removing my shirt in public.

At the beach, maybe, in a city park, never. Even at home, I go for a swim, then put my shirt back on, quickly.

I contemplated getting my body covered in tattoos to mask my girth, maybe take the eyes away from my protruding gut. Thankfully I never did.

This summer I may actually spend some time shirtless. A big part of my thinking is that now that I’ve lost some weight, maybe nobody will laugh when I remove my shirt.

After pondering this for a moment, I’ve come to a conclusion.

I’m 40 now. Most 40 year-old guys have no business taking off their shirts in public, but they do it for one reason, because it’s hot.

Don’t worry, I won’t be strolling around car shows shirtless, but I do intend to be a little less worried about what everyone else thinks when I lose my shirt at the beach, or around my own yard.

I’ve got nobody to impress…and if it ever warms up, I’m losing my shirt.

Now, where’s the sunscreen?

Better yet, where’s the sun?

Are there rewards for being good when one is supposed to be trying to lose wieight?

You bet there is. In just one short week, I have put my nose to the grindstone and lost five pounds. No more Mister Nice Guy. I’ve been tough with myself and the payoff has been huge.

This morning I weigh 227 pounds. When I started this journey on New Years Day, I weighed 275. I have almost lost 50 pounds.

It feels weird to write this. That being said, the fact that I’m up early on my day off is a good indication of just how good I feel.

My daughter told me yesterday that she could really tell how much weight I’d lost. She will be 16 in July.

In that kid’s entire life, she has never known me to weigh less than 250.

Today is a good day.

I recently read that chicken is a good breakfast food. I’m going to treat myself to a big bowl of chicken and rice for breakfast.

It’s really not that much different than eggs.

It’s funny, but food has become no more than fuel. Water. Protein. Carbs. Fuel.

And chicken.

 Cheers…

Willy

Hi there and thanks for stopping by.

So, for the last five months I’ve been trying to lose weight.  As of January 1, I’ve lost 43 pounds. The funny thing is, this morning I feel almost exactly the same as I did back when I weighed 275 pounds. Sure, everywhere I go folks congratulate me on my progress, and there is a bit more pep in my step, but the reality is I’m still 232 pounds.

Perhaps there isn’t as much gut hanging over my belt, but rest assured, I still have an ample spare tire.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was my midsection. I’ve been telling myself that for months, but some days it’s tough. Today is one of them.  I’m an impatient man, and I want this fat gone now.

Yep, you guessed it. I’ve hit a plateau. In the last three weeks I’ve only lost a pound a week. The weight rolled off me quickly when I initially kicked fast food and started exercising, but lately, despite all the salads and fruit I’ve been eating, it seems like no matter how hard I try, losing even one pound is a challenge.

I imagine that at this stage in the game many folks return to their old habits…I’ve dreamed of throwing in the towel and eating a bucket of chicken a few times. This is my first journey into the world of weight loss, and truthfully, I am beginning to see how easy it would be to return to my old ways.

There is one thing that is keeping me motivated though. Everywhere I go friends, family, and nice folks like you offer me kind words of encouragement.

So why the glum mood? I’ve recently come to a conclusion. After losing 40 pounds, I now realize that if I ever want to lead a normal active life, I’ll probably need to lose 30 more.

I need to weigh 200 pounds.

Lofty goal, I know… and the only way that is going to happen is with some hard-core exercise. My change in diet is not enough. It was enough to drop that first 40 pounds, but the next 10, 20, and beyond, will only occurr if I heat up my metabolism with some serious sweating.

I’ve got a busy schedule, and it’s tough to get to the gym. The truth is, I just can’t find the time. I live out of town, and work from home, and it takes me almost an hour just to drive there. It was a good place to kick start my journey, but now that the nice weather is here, I have a whole lot of stuff to do and not enough time to do it.

The solution? This summer I’m going to kick myself in the butt for thirty minutes every day right here at home.

Here’s what I need to do:

There’s a home gym, totally dismantled, in the corner of my garage. It’s time to put it back together and get pumped.

There’s a pool in my yard. It’s time to start swimming.

There’s a perfectly good mountain bike all tuned-up and ready to go in my garage. It’s time to start riding it.

At the beginning of this journey I said that today was the first day of the rest of my life.

I now realize that in order to get to where I want to go, every single day is the first day.

Simple math tells me that to lose 30 more pounds by 2009 all I need to do is drop four pounds a month, or one pound a week, or roughly 2.2 ounces a day.

2.2 ounces a day.

How tough can that be?

Trust me, it’s way harder than it sounds…

Cheers, and thanks for listening to me rant,

Willy

Back in 1979 I got my first motorcycle. It was a dirt bike actually, a Yamaha GT80. My dad bought it for me.  I was totally pumped, but the truth was, in very short order the bike was too small for me.

On the gas tank there was a decal that read, ‘Maximum weight 135 pounds.’ I was 12 at the time, and already weighing in at more than 150.

This wasn’t the last time I’d be too big for my motorcycle. As I grew up, and out, my love for two wheeled machines continued, but alas, I was eventually too big for any of them. The suspension would bottom out, my motocross jersey was always too tight, and kids half my age could pass me on a dirt track with little effort.

It eventually got me down, and kept me there. In my garage there are no less than four motorcycles, and they are all too small for me.

Even my Harley, a Sportster model, is typically not ridden by folks my size. Sometimes folks ask me why I ride smaller motorcycles, they expect me to be on some huge touring bike with a windshield and a stereo. That kind of defeats the purpose for me, the last thing I want is to be further weighed down by a huge motorcycle, I want a nice light and nimble bike like the ones I have. The problem is, even at 235 pounds, I’m still too heavy for my machines.

People lose weight for all sorts of reasons, perhaps because of an upcoming high school reunion, and more often for health issues. One of the big reasons I’m trying to lose weight is because I’m too big for my motorcycles.

I imagine myself weighing in at 200 pounds, being able to ride my dirt bike all day, and hop on my Harley and ride it all night.

I wonder how many other daredevils there are in this world trapped in a body too big for their recreational machines, and I wonder how many of them have simply done what I did, cover them up, tuck them in the corner of the garage and try to forget.

This summer, all that is going to change. Weight loss is the ticket to ride…

Cheers and thanks for stopping by!

Willy

I’m having trouble deciding what to wear again. I’ve lost over 30 pounds, and all my clothes are too big. I used to wear a triple extra large. Did most of my shopping at Wal-Mart.  Even the shirts that used to be a bit tight are too big on me now. I’m not sure if I’m bragging or complaining, but I do know that I’ve tried on every shirt in my closet, and they are all too big.

So I went to Wal-Mart.

Since I still have at least 20 more pounds to lose, I’m not about to purchase a new wardrobe, but I gotta’ wear something. So after milling around for about an hour trying on every shirt in the store, I’ve come to a conclusion. I’m now officially an extra-large and a half. The extra large is a bit tight, and I swim in the double extra large. I wonder what it would be like to live in this ill fitting purgatory for the rest of my life.

On the pants front, I’ve dropped from a size 44 pants to a size 38. That is if I don’t pull them up. I tried that in the store and I looked like a retiree from Florida. You know, the type who wears his pants too high and complains about the government full-time.

Tried to tuck in my shirt too. Bad idea. Looked just like my grandfather. He was a handsome man, but he was at least 50 when I was born. I don’t want to look 50.

So what should I do?

I’m gonna’ keep wearing my ill-fitting clothes until another ten pounds melts off of me. Then I’m gonna’ go back to Wal-Mart and get me some extra-large shirts.

As for all the surplus clothing…I’ve got a cousin who’s gonna’ be one stylish crane operator. Well, if you call triple extra large T-shirts from Wal-Mart stylish….

Cheers, Willy

A reader e-mailed me this and I thought it was funny. I tried weighing myself after a haircut but it didn’t seem to make much difference.

Cheers, Willy

1. Weigh yourself fully clothed after dinner and again the next morning without clothes and before breakfast, because it’s nice to see how much weight you’ve lost overnight! 

2. Never weigh yourself with wet hair. 

3. When weighing, remove everything, including eyeglasses. In this case, blurred vision is an asset. Don’t forget to remove jewellery as it could weigh as much as a pound! (Yeah, if your name is Mr.T)

4. Buy only cheap scales, never the medical kind. Accuracy is the enemy and high quality scales are very accurate. 5. Always go to the bathroom first. 

6. Weigh yourself after a haircut, this is good for up to half a pound of hair (hopefully). 7. Exhale with all your might BEFORE stepping onto the scale. (Air has weight, right?)

8. Start out with just one foot on the scale, then holding onto a towel rod slowly edge your other foot onto the scale while slowly releasing the towel rod. Admittedly, this takes time, but it’s worth it. You will weigh at least two pounds less than if you’d stepped onto the scale normally.  

I used to be able to fall asleep anywhere. In cars, on the team bus, on airplanes, no problem, just close my eyes and drift away. It was never a refreshing sleep though, in fact, no matter how much I slept, I was always tired.

All that changed a couple of years ago when my snoring got so bad my wife suggested I had sleep apnea. After a battery of tests at the local sleep clinic (Medipaidforthatmyself) it was determined that in an average hour of sleeping, I choke and wake up about 12 times. It has been compared to having the phone ring, only once, every four or five minutes.

Suffice it to say, I got one of those sleep machines. It’s called a CPAP, something about positive airway, basically it’s a small mask that covers my nose and blows in air. It makes me sound like Darth Vader when I’m sleeping. I’m told it’s creepy.

Truth is this machine was like a gift from Heaven.

In mere days my energy increased, the headaches went away, and for the first time in years I actually remembered a dream.

Prior to January 1, 2008, when I kicked off this hare-brained idea to publicy chronicle my battle with the bulge, I was sleeping about seven hours a night.

Yesterday was a full day, Tuesday always is. Today will be a busy one too.

So why am I awake at 5 a.m.?

Because I can’t sleep.

The weird thing is, after losing weight, I am actually finding that I sleep way less. Perhaps the sleep apnea machine isn’t even required anymore. The doctor told me this might happen. Apparently sleep apnea is a common medical issue with folks who are obese. When I weighed 270, I was obese. I wonder if at 235 I’m still considered obese? Maybe I’m just overweight now.

And maybe, because I’m not dragging around all that extra weight all day, I don’t require as much sleep.

The possibilities are exciting. What if I gain an hour of awake time every day?

That’s like 365 hours a year. That’s almost 10 full work weeks. What could I achieve with this extra hour?

Maybe I could build a website, or learn to play another musical instrument, or improve my typing skills…

Then again…this entry has made me a little sleepy.

Maybe I should just go and grab a couple more hours of sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep…

It’s been my experience that injecting a bit of humour into life’s trials and tribulations makes things easier to deal with. On that note, please appreciate that I am fully aware of the fact that I am an idiot. I also know, that upon review of the situation I’m about to share with you, I should have gone to the hospital, or at the very least visited a doctor.

I didn’t. You should.

Now that we have that out of the way, here’s my story:

I’ve done many things in my life that hurt. I’ve crashed a motorcycle, a snowmobile, and a stock car. I’ve been punched in the eye, had my nose broken like three times, broken about seven bones, hit my thumb with a hammer at least a dozen times, and been knocked square on my ass on a football field more times than I care to admit… 

All that being said, nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, ever came close to the pain that I experienced this morning.

It all started on Friday. With the World of Wheels car show in town, I had a big weekend ahead of me, but I felt tired. I rarely get sick, but I’ve had a mild cold that’s been hanging around for a while. I figured it was back.

Although my back was sore and I had a headache, I really didn’t feel all that bad.

I was also excited about the show, and lots of folks were counting on me. Plus I really wanted to meet Vinnie from American Chopper.

Friday and Saturday I felt okay, but on Sunday I was starting to feel lousy. Rundown from the show I told myself.

By Sunday at midnight I felt really lousy. Something else happend too, I’ll spare you the complete details, but as the doctor says, I was having trouble “passing water”.

I took it pretty easy on Monday and drank lots of water. I thought I was just dehydrated and tired from the marathon week I’d had.

This morning, at exactly 7a.m., I wasn’t feeling too bad, and after sending out my annual April Fools e-mails, I felt the urge to “pass water” again.

Most of what occurred next is a fog. The pain was excruciating. Sweat poured from my forehead, my hands shook, and I felt sick to my stomach. Time stood still.

Then it happened.

I passed a kidney stone.

If you don’t know how this happens, look it up. I’m not telling you.

The gut-wretching screams of agony that accompanied this “passing” were surely heard by my neighbours. They live a half a mile away.

The amazing thing was, even in my moment of shock and terror, relief was instant, and I mean instant.

The offending stone is about the size of a chocolate chip. I kid you not. Even I couldn’t make this one up.

After regaining my composure I checked in with Doctor Google and sure enough, the images I saw of kidney stones were exactly the same as what had been “passed” with my “water.”

Apparently, with the blockage gone, I’m cured. At least until the next time.

I feel pretty good now, and I have made an appointment with my real doctor for Thursday. I saved the stone so he can run some tests on it. According to Doctor Google kidney stones can actually be caused by dramatic changes in diet. I also take medication for a form of arthritis called gout, a disease that I not only come by genetically, but also likely have due to my former bad eating habits. Apparently, this medication can also cause kidney stones.

I probably should have known all of this. It all just reminds me how important it is to become more aware of my body. Not just the food I eat, or how much I exercise, but all the other factors. I can diagnose a blocked fuel pump on a car in an instant, but I really don’t have a red-hot clue about my own body. It’s time to look at every element of my lifestyle under a microscope, including the final evil, the dreaded smoking…

Each day I come closer to realizing that I must stop taking my body for granted. There is only one enemy in my life, and that enemy is me.

As for the passing of the stone, it was the most painful, and then in an instant, the most relieving experience of my life.

Forgive my candor.

If you ever experience these symptoms, go see a doctor. Apparently they can help.

Cheers, Willy