FAILURE

I have been accused before of being too judgemental. I think sometimes thats true. I can be harsh sometimes, and mostly the label of being too judgemental comes from a perception that subjectivity is involved. I have high subjective standards and when those standards are not met I am critical, but that critique can always be tempered by the fact that it is subjective. This judgemental tendency doesnt only apply to the world and what I see in it, but also myself. I've been told that I'm to hard on myself. Fine, that comes with the territory.

But what about when I set OBJECTIVE goals and standards for myself? Then I dont think its valid to say that I'm being too judgemental, I think the truth, unpleasant as it might be, must be acknowledged. The truth is so far, by my standards, my desire to get back in shape has been met only with failiure. I havent been working out enough, I havent been eating right, I havent been smoking less, I havent been going to bed on time, I havent been getting out of bed on time. Last night I bumped in to an old friend on the train who happens to be living only a block away from me. So it was understandable that we went out for a beer. I have to be flexible, I cant be a nazi about this. When I got home afterwards though, instead of drinking some water and going to bed, I turned on the TV and stayed up for over an hour. This is unacceptable. This morning, I had to get up and move my car. I was immediately blessed with a legal spot that wouldnt require the usual double move. Instead of taking the opportunity to go back to my apartment, eat breakfast, shower, get dressed and get to work on time for a change, I went back to bed. Not only did I go back to bed, but I stayed in bed despite setting my alarm about two or three times to respectable hours that would allow me enough time to get ready and get to work. So, I got out of bed at 9:45 and got to work about an hour later.

I know I'm capable of better, I've done it before, as recently as Monday when I went out for that bike ride despite the coma feeling and taking a bonghit. So my conclusion is, I dont think its unfair, or too judgemental, to say that Week 1 has been an unqualified FAILURE.

YSAACC

The Law of Ysaacc states that on weeknights, TV, computers, music, go off at 10:30. I've done this a couple times and it really makes a big difference. The whole point of this blog is to help me track progress or lack thereof in getting myself back in shape and back into a routine of regular excersise, proper nutrition, and as an extension, a better managed life. I can flog myself as much as I want about getting out to run, ride my bike or go to the gym, but when I stay up till midnght watching TV, its a safe bet that the next day will not be as productive as I want it to be.

MOTIVATE

I got home last night on the edge of the habitual coma. I felt heavy, tired, slightly pained. The pain is more psychological than physical, but its dull persistent intensity bleeds out from my psyche and into my upper back, my neck and my eyelids. The pain comes from all the swirling toughts of responsibilities and chores that I havent taken care of. It comes from FUCK THIS SHIT fighting against TIME TO GET WITH THE PROGRAM. I am such an extremist. Where is the middle ground?

Above all, I really wanted a bonghit. I wanted to take a huge hit then lay down on my couch and take a nap. I also want to have six pack abs, a six figure bank account, a size 6 girlfriend... I get home, plop down on my couch. I was supposed to go to the gym or go running. For lunch, I went out and bought a nice healthy salad plate from Milant, and a slice of pizza. Rationalized that I needed the carbs and cheese for "balance". Hehe, balance. I ate the pizza and put the salad in the fridge. For breakfast I had a handful of blueberries, a baby banana, and later a half bowl of fruit loops. Not a good score so far in the EAT RIGHT LIVE RIGHT game. Feeling deflated and already defeated, it was unlikely that I would make it to the gym. That anxietey was creeping up, the itch for a hit of weed, and the crushing weight of these early evening comas were pounding down on my all at once. The All Star Game was about to come on. I laughed to myself as a means of protection while I reached for the bong and the jar.

I've let myself down from various goals many many times before, so this wasn't new. It was still just as potentially depressing as ever, I have learned to deflect that with a fuck-it-ness that should be patented and sold. I took my bong hit and it felt great. I was back in familiar territory. The coma receeded slighty, still lapping at the shores of my brain, which felt like a dimly lit island inside the night of my skull. Flipping around the TV now from ESPN to Speed to Discovery to FOX. The coma was gone, but the anxiety was swelling, rising with crashing waves, slamming into my chest, my head, pushing on the back of my eyeballs. Many times in this situation, I start to think about what I COULD and SHOULD be doing instead of sitting on my couch watching TV. As I play in my mind all the scenes of what I would be doing if was who I should be, my ass cements itslef into the couch, the only movement the flicker of my eyes and the twitching of my forearm as I zap through all my channels.

This time the anxiety was amplified by a sense of purpose. It wasnt just anxietey, it was urgency. I looked over at my bike and thought, what if I went for a bike ride? This is nothing new either. I frequently come up with good ideas of what I could do right away, then I find another form of procrastination and it is smothered. Last night, I got up, put on some shorts and a t shirt and sneakers, got on my bike and left. All stoned and shaking. I was amazed that I actually did it. It was a big victory. And a rare one. I went out, rode pretty hard, and it felt great. I freaked out a little thinking my tire was going flat, but it was fine. I rode 8 miles (to 72nd and back) and got home in time for the 1st pitch of the All Star Game. I ate some leftover rice and beans (glycogen window, hehe) smoked the rest of my weed. I ended up staying up too late. Watched TV all night instead of reading, or cleaning, or doing other productive things. But it was a victory none the less.

MOTIVATION. Its the key. Hopefully it is the start of a new trend. SELF DISCIPLINE. I sill cant get out of bed when the alarm goes off. But after last night, I know its possible. One step at a time.

174 POUNDS

This is my first post. It has been a long time coming, for many different reasons. Through the various phases of my life, both good and bad, I have felt (and been counselled by others) that keeping a journal would help me reach goals, examine personal problems to gain both perspective and focus. It would help me record minutia that could otherwise be forgotten, and allow for expression of thoughts and feelings that otherwise get lost on the wyside. I will be able to revist all this data and its precision will help me understand the now more clearly. In theory at least...

ANYWAY. Back to practical matters. I said it was a long time coming. This is true in many ways. I weighed m yself yesterday for the first time in a while, maybe a couple months.

O N E - H U N D R E D - A N D - S E V E N T Y - F O U R - P O U N D S ! ! ! !

I stopped working out regulalry in the fall of last year. Towards October. I have been gorging myself ever since, not just eating a lot, but eating a lot of BAD foods, some stuff that I used to not eat often or even at all, like donuts, soda, BBQ. It has to stop. The gorging that is. If I can show moderation and respect myself by eating predominantly "healthful" foods, the the occaisonal donut, or brisket sandwich wont hurt. I just cant eat this stuff every day anymore.

Excersise: I HAVE TO DO IT!!! Three times a week AT LEAST. Ok, I've got to get back to work. I'm excited about this. I think it will be good for me.