Can exercise save us? If so, will we take it up?

Americans are fat, or at least most Americans. In fact, statistics reveal that more Americans are obese than are merely overweight.

While I didn’t qualify for the former category, I certainly was on my way there, until reversing course back in June. My own experience the past 18 weeks has taught me some really important lessons that were validated this morning, when I found a link to this great story in the Financial Times, about Jerry Morris.

Who is Jerry Morris, you ask? Well Jerry Morris is a British researcher who came upon data that indicated an unprecedented number of people dying of heart attacks in Britain. Morris was the one that set up a vast study to look at heart-attack rates in people fromm a variety of occupations, primarily civil servants—schoolteachers, postmen, transport workers, and others.

As he began carefully sorting through this data, just after WWII (there were no computers to do this work back then), Morris had an inkling that heart attack rates were related to occupation. He was particularly interested in the busmen that were part of his data set. Partly this was do to the sample size being large, but also, he noted that the data was particularly telling in that the drivers and conductors were from the same social class, yet, conductors rates of heart attack was half that of the drivers. The only explanation that Morris could come up with was that the drivers were sedentary and the conductors on the double-decker busses had to climb up and down stairs, taking tickets all day.

Today, it’s a given that exercise can help lower the risk of heart disease. In 1949, however, Morris was the first one to make that connection.

The article goes on to mention that Morris began his connection to exercise in early childhood.

“My father used to take me on a four-mile walk from Glasgow once a week, when I was a schoolboy. We used to aim to do the four miles in an hour. If we did that OK, I got an ice-cream. If we did it in even a minute less, I got a choc-ice.”

Morris himself is now 101, and still regularly shows up for work at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, where his office is.

The most interesting part of Morris’ study for me was the correlation between heart health and vigorous exercise.

When Morris compiled his research, an inordinate amount of these civil servants were gardeners—91 percent actually—it’s what “kept them sane,” Morris reported. He originally believed this would keep them from heart disease, but he found out that only vigorous exercise—running, biking, playing football, swimming, etc. had the capacity to do that.

In my own case, it wasn’t until I ramped up my activity, as well as becoming more conscious of how many calories I was taking in that I began to see any significant and consistent weight loss. Merely cutting calories wasn’t going to do it. Continuing to overeat also wasn’t helping. It required a combination, but physical activity was certainly a key factor in my success. It will continue to be, if I am to remain successful in keeping the weight (47 pounds as of this morning, btw) off.

I’ve mentioned Tyler before, he of 344pounds.com. He’s now down 123.6 pounds in 40 weeks. How’s he doing it? Yep; reducing calories, and of course, ramping up his physical activity.

Here’s a running routine he’s adopted.

Now that the days are growing shorter, I can’t bike after work. I’ve rediscovered my treadmill in the basement, and most mornings, I’m on it 35-40 minutes before work, and sometimes another 20-30 minutes in the evening.

This week’s been a challenge—for the past two mornings, I’ve had to leave the house before 7:00, headed to early morning appointments for work. Last night, I came home after a very long day and hit the treadmill for 35 minutes. I have been alternating somewhat like Tyler, between walking/running. I’ll usually walk for the first five minutes, starting first at 3.9 and then increasing to 4.1, or 4.1. Then at 5:00, I crank it up to 6.8 and run for two minutes, or sometimes, 2:15, then walk for another two, or three minutes, run two, et cetera. I also try to get a 3-4 minute burst in about midway through, and do some light weighted exercises for my upper body.

After that routine, I came up and hit the Lifecycle for 30 minutes watching the Celtics pregame. Burned about 800 calories, which helped offset the 2,300 calories I consumed for the day.

As Morris’ study shows, obesity, and all the attendant health issues connected to our sedentary lifestyle and lack of activity will continue to plague us in the U.S., as well as developing nations that refuse to learn from our mistakes here in the west.

Book it

Books are wonderful things. They transport us to new places, open us up to new ideas, and sometimes, simply entertain. For nearly 40 years, I've carried on a love affair with books, dating back to my earliest memories of checking out books at the Marion T. Morse Elementary School, in Lisbon Falls.

On Saturday, I was in attendance at Boston's inaugural book festival. While the city at one time had a festival, apparently sponsored by the Boston Globe, it's been years since the last one. Seeing that Boston was the only major American city without an annual festival championing the book, plans were undertaken to revive the tradition.

The first one was a success from what I could see. You can read my reflections from Saturday at Write in Maine.

Shuffle play Friday-sporadic record review #1

I’ve managed to stay fairly regular with my Shuffle Play Friday posts. This Friday, not only did I not have my weekly SPF up before shuffling off for a busy final day of the work week, I had little, or no time prior to work to parcel together my thoughts.

Usually, I’ve got most of this written Thursday night, and even have it posted prior to midnight, when Thursday shifts into the wee hours of Friday. Thursday night, I was gassed and in bed by nine. My day job has been kicking me in the ass of late, coupled with a physical routine that is forcing me relocate the energy level that I once had when I was a young man.

Today, while eating my lunch, sitting outside my office, in the parking lot, I cobbled together a few thoughts, and a couple of paragraphs that approximated some of my feelings about a new CD that arrived in the mail. It’s been awhile since a collection of music has me this excited about some new tunes.

This week, as much as I wanted to write about another batch of four, or five songs, I’ve decided to forgo that convention, at least temporarily. The reason being, Joel Plaskett’s new triple disc, Three, showed up yesterday, in the mail. Holy fucking shit!! While I had some high expectations about Plaskett, based upon a few things I’ve read, plus the handful of tracks I’ve listened to online, this new record has been playing over and over since yesterday afternoon, when I ran out to my post office box in hopes that the new disc (s) had arrived. I wasn’t disappointed. It was sitting in my box, and I’ve been listening in my car, at home (even Miss Mary, not the biggest fan of most of my music gives it a “thumbs up”), and in my head for the past 24 hours.

The first disc (at least the way the CD is sequenced) contains several of the tracks I had previewed online; tunes like “Gone, Gone, Gone,” “Through & Through & Through,” and “You Let Me Down.” All stellar and I love being able to blast them on something besides my computer. The other two discs also are filled with amazing stuff. On disc two, “Beyond, Beyond, Beyond” is one of my favorites on the entire disc. With its plaintive look back at what I believe is autobiographical material—Plaskett’s youth growing up in Nova Scotia (he mentions Lunenburg, the town where he was born, before moving to Halifax, “In ’87 I moved away”).

With a line like “Beauty, love and people close, because that is what we need the most,” Plaskett sets forth his priorities and values for his listeners. This isn’t someone that got into music for the “sex, drugs, and rock and roll” stereotypes. No, he’s got something to say, and every song is infused with something worth taking away. Plaskett’s a songwriter and he knows he way around words and imagery.

The arrangements on Three are mostly simple and spare, although simple doesn’t mean lacking punch, or power. Plaskett is a musician that understands space in his music, and doesn’t feel the need to fill it with a bunch of noise, or guitar wankery. In fact, the axe work provides what’s necessary, and nothing more. Plaskett proves that he’s a tasteful player, and both his playing, along with the fretwork of his dad (yes, his freakin’ dad!), Bill show a stylistic nod to being comfortable with the knowledge that less is more. Father and son share songwriting credits on disc two’s “Heartless, Heartless, Heartless.” The elder Plaskett, a former folkie during the 80s, also contributes piano, tenor guitar, and even bouzouki (a mainstay in modern Greek music).

The backing vocals of Anna Egge and Rose Cousins add something unique to the record. In fact, Plaskett indicates that he wrote parts into songs, like in “Wishful Thinking,” which tracks in at 7:15, and uses a basic arrangement of a drum machine, guitar and great call and answer lines, courtesy of Egge and Cousins, as well as adding some amazing harmonies on this one.

From an interview that Plaskett did back in May for The Coast, a Halifax-based arts and entertainment site, he indicates that Three has a definite narrative arc, basically, a story in three parts; going away, being alone and then coming back home.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons why this new disc, by a musician that two weeks ago, I knew nary a thing about, has quickly forged a connection through his songs, evoking memories and remembrances from my own life.

There is always a temptation to read our own experiences into songs, and the words of songsmiths, or writers in general; there is even a danger in personalizing music entirely. At the same time, good songwriting is impressionistic, and has the ability to transport us.

Plaskett’s new disc (s) does that and more.

Chasing the sun

I know opportunities for post-work bike rides are just about gone, as days grow shorter. By the time I get home from work, there is no longer time/light enough to get in an hour on my bike.

After being on the road since 7:00 this morning, I cut my day short and was home by 4:30, which allowed me time enough to get in 16 miles out and about on the back roads near where I live.


The next several months will be tough. I can join the gym and maintain the level of workout intensity I've grown accustomed to (and need to maintain in order to stay in shape). What will be difficult will be the lack of sunshine, and the seasonal blues that a shortage of vitamin D can engender.

The irony of being fit

Since June 23, when I weighed-in at 259.5 pounds, I have lost 44.5 45 pounds, all in a period of 17 weeks, or just over four months. This involved nary a newfangled diet, eating plan with odd variations of foods replete with prescribed times of the day for imbibing, no pre-packaged food plans, or anything else out of the ordinary. Actually, I take that back—losing weight and adopting a healthier lifestyle does entail swimming upstream, adopting a new consciousness that is not the norm. It involves awareness and accepting responsibility for your choices of foods, quantities eaten, and deciding to exercise, or not, along with the level of intensity.

For me, my decision resulted from coming face-to-face with a man in the mirror, approaching middle age, who had been going to seed for more than a decade. It had been years, save for a brief period in 2005, since I had embraced any regular, intensive level of physical activity, or continued for any longer than a month, or two. I mention 2005 because that was when, just after New Years, I joined the YMCA nearby and enlisted their training services. For about two months, while working at home, I’d leave my writing tasks three afternoons per week, and do a variety of stations on their Nautilus equipment. I absolutely hated it. I hated the people, pretentious stay-at-home moms, and assorted elderly fitness fanatics, and others that I wasn’t ready to deal with—I hadn’t made the mental commitment that I’ve come to by accident over the past four months.

When I started all of this back in June, I was hoping to start with losing 10 pounds, and if that went well, then I planned to continue, possibly dropping 20 pounds total. I approached all of this with trepidation, and not much confidence. I’ve lost 10 pounds before, and then gained it back, shortly thereafter.

I think what jumpstarted my progress was Mary’s excitement at biking for a cause. We both made decisions to ramp up our training intensity as a pretext to participating in The Dempsey Challenge. Over those weeks, which eventually become months, being out on my bike, for an hour, or two at a time, was liberating. You couldn’t be checking email, answering a cell phone, Twittering—just you, your bike, propelled by the power inherent within your own human frame—plugged into the real, rather than virtual world. [chart above indicates the simple math of weight loss--my avg. calories consumed (bluish, on left), vs. avg. calories burned (yellow, on right) over the past two months-jb]

There were times out on the back roads, and occasionally, main roads, when a driver got too close. Occasionally (maybe two, or three times all summer and early fall) I would think, mid-ride, this sucks! I don’t want to be out here, 45 minutes or longer, from home. The hills that day seemed too steep, or my legs felt like shit because it was my third, or fourth consecutive long ride. Surprisingly, these negative thoughts were rare, and before long, I began to anticipate and pine for my ride after a day of work—days most often spent dealing with problem people, bureaucracy, and the giant “suck” that is work, even for someone like me, who generally likes his day job.

Interestingly, it took me until I was down about 35 pounds that a few people began asking me, “have you lost weight?” When I’d tell them the amount, most often, they were incredulous. I’m not surprised, as most of these people, maybe all of them, never knew me when I was in my athletic prime, or had seen me when I was a 25-year-old athlete, still engaged competitively on the diamond.

What has been ironic of late, particularly the past two weeks, is how many people at the office have made comments like, “hey skinny,” or, “look at Mr. Weight-loss,” or one person who said to me, “you need to upgrade that wardrobe,” particularly since my pants in particular have gotten quite baggy. One person, bless her heart, even asked me, “are you ok?” because apparently, in our country, being 50 pounds overweight means you are viewed as healthy, and nearing your ideal weight elicits concerns that you might possibly have lost your weight, not from any healthy motive, but possibly that you are wasting away from some ravaging disease. Recently, my own mother said to me, “you look good, but you shouldn’t lose any more.” Ah, excuse me, but according to most weight charts, I’m still about 10 pounds heavier than someone my height and frame should be. I’ll continue to work out and watch what I eat, because I like the new me.

As the days grow shorter, and my riding time is being compressed, I will be forced inside for the winter months. This time, I’m finding a gym where I can go, do my shit, and get out in 1-2 hours; I plan on doing this three times per week, and intersperse it with my treadmill work in the basement.

As I log those hours, under artificial illumination, I’ll long like a dog for his bone, to be back out in the open air, on my bike, building up for my next fitness adventure, and the warmer days of summer 2010.