A week in and I've lost two pounds. It's a start -- in fact, it's right on pace. My target weight for the triathlon is 215, which means I need to lose a total of 25 pounds in 14 weeks. So two pounds a week would get me there.
Today's training session included crunches, leg lifts, shoulder presses and lunges -- lots and lots of lunges. They're not fun -- but they do the job.
Oh, and I ran yesterday for the first time since the Reagan administration (I kid ... but not much). It was on the treadmill, and I was pretty much just dipping my toe into the water by running for one minute (5.7 mph), then walking for two minutes, and repeating the cycle for 30 minutes. It went well enough that next time I'm going to try one-minute intervals for both walking and running. Then I'll just extend the running periods while continuing to walk for a minute on each "break" until I'm feeling good enough to run 3.1 miles.
Or that's the plan. Anybody have tips for a beginning runner? Fire away.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 15, 2008
Tipping their hand
Looking back on the Vikings' 18-15 loss to the Colts on Sunday, one play spotlighted the ongoing folly of the coaching staff's high opinion of quarterback Tarvaris Jackson. Leading 15-7 midway through the fourth quarter, the Vikings faced a 3rd-and-5 from the Indianapolis 31.
Now, on 3rd-and-5, most teams are going to pass, because it's tough to get five yards on a running play when the defense is pretty much stacked between the line of scrimmage and about seven yards downfield. However, the Vikings figured all they needed was three more points -- to stretch their lead to 11 -- so they ran Chester Taylor into the line, figuring he'd at least keep them in field goal position.
Taylor gained a yard, and Ryan Longwell trotted onto the field to attempt a 47-yard field goal. The fact that he missed it didn't make the 3rd down play a bad call -- it was a bad call regardless of what happened on that play or on the field goal attempt. Because by running Taylor into the line instead of giving T-Jax a chance to make a play to keep the drive alive, chew up some more clock and maybe actually put six points on the board instead of three, the Vikings coaches were saying, "We don't trust our quarterback to be able to convert a 3rd-and-5 midway through the fourth quarter as we're protecting an 8-point lead."
And that's just sad. If they don't trust Jackson enough to give him a chance to throw (or scramble) for a first down in that situation, then he has no business being on the field right now.
It's too early to jump off the Vikings bandwagon -- yeah, they're 0-2, but they've played arguably their two toughest games of the year, at Green Bay and home against the Colts, and look at the other teams who are 0-2 today (San Diego, Jacksonville, and Cleveland all had major playoff aspirations going into the season). But the quarterback and coaching staff have done little to ease the concerns of Viking Nation with their performance through two weeks.
Now, on 3rd-and-5, most teams are going to pass, because it's tough to get five yards on a running play when the defense is pretty much stacked between the line of scrimmage and about seven yards downfield. However, the Vikings figured all they needed was three more points -- to stretch their lead to 11 -- so they ran Chester Taylor into the line, figuring he'd at least keep them in field goal position.
Taylor gained a yard, and Ryan Longwell trotted onto the field to attempt a 47-yard field goal. The fact that he missed it didn't make the 3rd down play a bad call -- it was a bad call regardless of what happened on that play or on the field goal attempt. Because by running Taylor into the line instead of giving T-Jax a chance to make a play to keep the drive alive, chew up some more clock and maybe actually put six points on the board instead of three, the Vikings coaches were saying, "We don't trust our quarterback to be able to convert a 3rd-and-5 midway through the fourth quarter as we're protecting an 8-point lead."
And that's just sad. If they don't trust Jackson enough to give him a chance to throw (or scramble) for a first down in that situation, then he has no business being on the field right now.
It's too early to jump off the Vikings bandwagon -- yeah, they're 0-2, but they've played arguably their two toughest games of the year, at Green Bay and home against the Colts, and look at the other teams who are 0-2 today (San Diego, Jacksonville, and Cleveland all had major playoff aspirations going into the season). But the quarterback and coaching staff have done little to ease the concerns of Viking Nation with their performance through two weeks.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Here comes the parlay
Week 2 of the NFL is just about upon us, so it's long past time to re-introduce the 5-team parlay to the blog. For those whose souls haven't been irreversibly corrupted by gambling, a parlay is a bet that pays out better than a straight (i.e. single-team) bet because you have to win all legs of the parlay to collect.
In this case, a 5-team parlay involves five picks each week, and all five have to win. But if that magic happens, I get paid back 23-to-1. It's my own little office pool, and I only have to hit it once a year to make money -- which is exactly what I did in 2005 and 2006. But I was shutout last year -- I went 4-for-5 in three different weeks, including the first and the last weeks of the regular season (not sure what that means). So while the goal is still to hit it once this year, I'd happily take two ... or more.
Last week, I went 3-for-5, hitting with the Bills, Broncos and the Panthers-Chargers over, and missing on the Lions (I know, fool me once ...) and the Cowboys-Browns over. So we're off to an inconspicuous start. Time to get conspicuous.
Week 2 NFL 5-team parlay:
Season: 3-2
In this case, a 5-team parlay involves five picks each week, and all five have to win. But if that magic happens, I get paid back 23-to-1. It's my own little office pool, and I only have to hit it once a year to make money -- which is exactly what I did in 2005 and 2006. But I was shutout last year -- I went 4-for-5 in three different weeks, including the first and the last weeks of the regular season (not sure what that means). So while the goal is still to hit it once this year, I'd happily take two ... or more.
Last week, I went 3-for-5, hitting with the Bills, Broncos and the Panthers-Chargers over, and missing on the Lions (I know, fool me once ...) and the Cowboys-Browns over. So we're off to an inconspicuous start. Time to get conspicuous.
Week 2 NFL 5-team parlay:
- Chiefs -3.5 vs. Raiders -- This is more a pick against the Raiders than for the Chiefs, although I do think the boys from KC were plucky against the Brady-less Pats last Sunday. But the Raiders just stink out loud.
- Packers-Lions over 45 -- One thing Detroit will do this year is score. Another thing they'll do is let the opposing team score. Watch their totals climb every week until they reach the realm of last year's Patriots, although that phenomenon was due to the respect for New England's offense; with the Lions, it's all about their defense.
- Colts-Vikings over 43.5 -- This should be a shootout. The Colts will pass early and often, aiming for the Vikings' weakness. And I like how Minnesota's offense played in the second half last week, once T-Jax shook off some of the rust he gathered while sitting out the last 2.5 games of the preseason.
- Pats-Jets over 37 -- Breffarve's first home game for Gang Green -- you think he's going to be content to hand off to Thomas Jones and manage the game? He'll throw at least two TDs to the Jets' receivers and maybe one to the Pats' secondary. And the Pats will move the ball fine under Cassell.
- Texans -4.5 vs. Ravens -- Houston was everybody's sneaky preseason pick but the Texans laid an egg against Pittsburgh last week. Now they get to open their home schedule against a rookie quarterback making his first road start. Hurricane or no hurricane, I've got one word for that scenario: Giddy-up!
Season: 3-2
Friday, September 12, 2008
Crunches
Time was, the only crunches I was familiar with were Cap'n and Cinnamon Toast. But now I'm finding out there are many more variations, some of them even healthy for you.
Yes, my trainer has introduced me to about 32 different varieties of crunches in our two sessions. We did them with a medicine ball, without a medicine ball, laying on one of those big bouncy balls, etc. And I have to say, the variety keeps it from getting boring. They're still painful, but it's not the same, repetitive motion, which means I'm working my upper and lower abs ("Hello down there, abs -- I haven't seen you in awhile!") and reducing the stress on different ancillary body parts. For example, some crunches make my neck sore, some make my hip flexors burn, some cause the old back to ache. But mixing up the routine seems to balance out the strain on the rest of my body.
So, the lesson for today is, "Crunches: They're not just for breakfast anymore."
(p.s. I promise I will get to some other topics soon. Like football gambling -- we'll post the 5-team parlay tomorrow.)
Yes, my trainer has introduced me to about 32 different varieties of crunches in our two sessions. We did them with a medicine ball, without a medicine ball, laying on one of those big bouncy balls, etc. And I have to say, the variety keeps it from getting boring. They're still painful, but it's not the same, repetitive motion, which means I'm working my upper and lower abs ("Hello down there, abs -- I haven't seen you in awhile!") and reducing the stress on different ancillary body parts. For example, some crunches make my neck sore, some make my hip flexors burn, some cause the old back to ache. But mixing up the routine seems to balance out the strain on the rest of my body.
So, the lesson for today is, "Crunches: They're not just for breakfast anymore."
(p.s. I promise I will get to some other topics soon. Like football gambling -- we'll post the 5-team parlay tomorrow.)
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Staring at the phone
I hadn't planned to take today off, but work prevented me from getting to the club. I have a very weird job. Sure, there's a lot of freedom when you're a freelancer, but when you're on (or past) deadline and you're waiting for one person to call you so you can get the interview you need to finish your story, it's kinda like being a fireman on call. Not as important, of course, but you get the gist.
You see, many of the people on whom I rely for these interviews are professional athletes and coaches. And I don't have to tell you that they are Very Important People whose schedules cannot be disrupted. Thus, when a PR flak tells me that a coach or player is going to call me "sometime today," I can't disappear for two hours to go to the gym. Or even for an hour. I have to be sitting by the phone, recorder in hand, interview notes ready to go, on the off chance that one of these Very Important People will actually follow through with his promise and call me back.
Sigh. That's why I've always preferred to cover women's sports. Not only do most female athletes -- collegiate and professional -- offer better quotes, even in quick-hitter soundbite sessions, but they actually appreciate the attention that the media gives their sports. Title IX may be 35 years old, but these women still see themselves as ambassadors of their respective sports, and thus they're more than happy to do the media dance with any schmuck holding a microphone or notepad.
And in case you're wondering why female athletes offer better quotes, it's not necessarily because they're more personable. My theory is that they're actually smarter than their male counterparts. That's because most women who push themselves hard enough to become an elite athlete also have the drive to succeed in everything else they do. Thus, they're usually good students -- the WNBA and US women's soccer team, for example, are filled with college graduates -- so not only are they motivated to promote their sports, they can string a few sentences together without tripping over their tongues.
So whether it's been Julie Foudy, Brandi Chastain, Sue Bird, A.J. Mleczko or Shannon Bolden, I've always been impressed with the level of thought and consideration that these women have put into their interviews with me. Suffice it to say, I never got the same sense from Randy Moss -- although Matt Birk is pretty darn good.
You see, many of the people on whom I rely for these interviews are professional athletes and coaches. And I don't have to tell you that they are Very Important People whose schedules cannot be disrupted. Thus, when a PR flak tells me that a coach or player is going to call me "sometime today," I can't disappear for two hours to go to the gym. Or even for an hour. I have to be sitting by the phone, recorder in hand, interview notes ready to go, on the off chance that one of these Very Important People will actually follow through with his promise and call me back.
Sigh. That's why I've always preferred to cover women's sports. Not only do most female athletes -- collegiate and professional -- offer better quotes, even in quick-hitter soundbite sessions, but they actually appreciate the attention that the media gives their sports. Title IX may be 35 years old, but these women still see themselves as ambassadors of their respective sports, and thus they're more than happy to do the media dance with any schmuck holding a microphone or notepad.
And in case you're wondering why female athletes offer better quotes, it's not necessarily because they're more personable. My theory is that they're actually smarter than their male counterparts. That's because most women who push themselves hard enough to become an elite athlete also have the drive to succeed in everything else they do. Thus, they're usually good students -- the WNBA and US women's soccer team, for example, are filled with college graduates -- so not only are they motivated to promote their sports, they can string a few sentences together without tripping over their tongues.
So whether it's been Julie Foudy, Brandi Chastain, Sue Bird, A.J. Mleczko or Shannon Bolden, I've always been impressed with the level of thought and consideration that these women have put into their interviews with me. Suffice it to say, I never got the same sense from Randy Moss -- although Matt Birk is pretty darn good.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Sore
So I started up with a personal trainer on Monday. I'm going to be subjecting myself to her torture (I mean she's going to work me out) three days a week, one hour per session, for the foreseeable future.
We started on Monday with core-strengthening exercises -- crunches, step-ups, and a lot of balance-type drills that focus on keeping your core muscles tight. So, of course, I'm sore today. Very, very sore. But it's a good kind of sore -- the kind that you get when you've used your body in a different way than you're used to, and in the way that it was meant to be used.
I'm sure it'll eventually abate -- probably just in time to get drilled again on Thursday. But that's just part of the process. I'm not a big "no-pain-no-gain" guy, but I accept the fact that there will be plenty of discomfort in my immediate future. And that's OK, because too much comfort is what got me here in the first place.
We started on Monday with core-strengthening exercises -- crunches, step-ups, and a lot of balance-type drills that focus on keeping your core muscles tight. So, of course, I'm sore today. Very, very sore. But it's a good kind of sore -- the kind that you get when you've used your body in a different way than you're used to, and in the way that it was meant to be used.
I'm sure it'll eventually abate -- probably just in time to get drilled again on Thursday. But that's just part of the process. I'm not a big "no-pain-no-gain" guy, but I accept the fact that there will be plenty of discomfort in my immediate future. And that's OK, because too much comfort is what got me here in the first place.
Monday, September 8, 2008
First step
It all started in 1998.
I'd coasted along throughout most of my adult life, working out with decent frequency, eating pretty much whatever I wanted to, and maintaining a healthy weight of 175. Then my life went through a couple of drastic changes. I became a father, and I started a new job that was nowhere near my health club.
Suddenly, I was no longer free to use my time as I saw fit, and I couldn't swing by the club before or after work to get in 45 minutes of cardio. Plus, I turned 30, and my metabolism began the slow descent toward flatline. All this added up to a slow, but steady, weight gain.
Still, I topped out at around 190, then started watching my diet and figured out ways to fit in a little more exercise, and I settled back in the low 180s.
Then all hell broke loose. In 2000, I started another new job, this one requiring extremely long hours. Fun, but long, and many of them stretching into the wee hours of the morning. I "retired" from playing baseball after that summer, thus eliminating my one incentive to remain in decent shape. (Please keep your John Kruk comments to yourselves.) And my metabolism -- once fueled by decent sleep and regular exercise -- slowed to a glacial creep.
And the pounds came.
My goodness, did they ever. Before long, I was buying new pants, wearing baggy clothes and generally living the sad lifestyle of the fat guy. My eating habits went to hell ("Hey, I'm already fat -- might as well eat that donut") and ... well, if I were a little more touchy-feely, the phrase "shame spiral" might be invoked right about here.
By the time I tried to grab the reins the first time -- two years ago -- I had ballooned to 240 pounds. I signed up with the local LA Weight Loss chapter, because I liked their no-nonsense approach. It boiled down to this: write down everything you eat and drink, control your portion sizes, weigh in three times a week to encourage accountability, and watch the pounds fall away!
And it worked ... for awhile. I got down to about 225, then hit a wall that I just couldn't break through. I still don't know why it didn't click for me. My guess is that I still wasn't exercising enough and I wasn't sleeping enough (do a little research on the correlation between sleep and weight loss if you're skeptical about this), and as my frustration mounted, I just sorta gave up. A year and a half later, I was back up to 240.
Fast-forward to a month ago. I was back in Minnesota, reconnecting with my roots in my hometown. I noticed that my old baseball club had a home game that night and figured I'd swing by the ballpark to watch a few innings. When I got there, I discovered that night's opposing starting pitcher was ... my age! He was an old teammate and opponent of mine, and he was still out there getting it done. While I was sipping a beer and eating popcorn in the stands, he was battling "kids" 10 and 20 years younger than us in the heat and humidity of an August night.
And that's when it hit me. I had to do something, because there was no way I could have gone out there and even run out a grounder, let alone play three games a week like I used to -- and like my old friend and foe was still doing.
So, the day I got back to Nevada, I got online and signed up for a sprint triathlon. For the uninitiated (like me about a month ago), a sprint triathlon is like the junior version of the big event -- it's a 5K run, a 12-mile bike ride and a 150-meter swim. The one I chose -- the Tinsel Triathlon in Hemet, Calif. -- is actually held in reverse order. Usually you swim first, but I guess because their swim takes place in a pool instead of a lake or ocean, they have to swim last to stagger the number of people in the water at the same time.
I've long been interested in triathlons, because they seem like a great test of general athleticism, as opposed to marathons, which just seem twisted and cruel. I always said that I'd sign up for one "as soon as I lose a little weight" because of course 240 pounds can cause a lot of pounding on the old joints.
But there comes a time in life when you've got to put the cart before the horse, so to speak, and this is one of those times. So I'm signed up for a triathlon that will take place on Dec. 14 -- you can refer to my handy-dandy countdown clock to see just how much time I've got left before my Day of Reckoning. And the fact that it's three days before my 40th birthday ... well, I'm a sucker for symbolism.
Along the way, I'll tell you all about my goals, how I plan to get there, what this process will entail, who's going to help me get it done, and everything else related to this journey of self-improvement. And of course you'll still get the same riveting discussion of sports, music, politics and gambling on football that you've come to know and love from What Happens in Henderson.
T-minus 98 days and counting ... let's get it started.
I'd coasted along throughout most of my adult life, working out with decent frequency, eating pretty much whatever I wanted to, and maintaining a healthy weight of 175. Then my life went through a couple of drastic changes. I became a father, and I started a new job that was nowhere near my health club.
Suddenly, I was no longer free to use my time as I saw fit, and I couldn't swing by the club before or after work to get in 45 minutes of cardio. Plus, I turned 30, and my metabolism began the slow descent toward flatline. All this added up to a slow, but steady, weight gain.
Still, I topped out at around 190, then started watching my diet and figured out ways to fit in a little more exercise, and I settled back in the low 180s.
Then all hell broke loose. In 2000, I started another new job, this one requiring extremely long hours. Fun, but long, and many of them stretching into the wee hours of the morning. I "retired" from playing baseball after that summer, thus eliminating my one incentive to remain in decent shape. (Please keep your John Kruk comments to yourselves.) And my metabolism -- once fueled by decent sleep and regular exercise -- slowed to a glacial creep.
And the pounds came.
My goodness, did they ever. Before long, I was buying new pants, wearing baggy clothes and generally living the sad lifestyle of the fat guy. My eating habits went to hell ("Hey, I'm already fat -- might as well eat that donut") and ... well, if I were a little more touchy-feely, the phrase "shame spiral" might be invoked right about here.
By the time I tried to grab the reins the first time -- two years ago -- I had ballooned to 240 pounds. I signed up with the local LA Weight Loss chapter, because I liked their no-nonsense approach. It boiled down to this: write down everything you eat and drink, control your portion sizes, weigh in three times a week to encourage accountability, and watch the pounds fall away!
And it worked ... for awhile. I got down to about 225, then hit a wall that I just couldn't break through. I still don't know why it didn't click for me. My guess is that I still wasn't exercising enough and I wasn't sleeping enough (do a little research on the correlation between sleep and weight loss if you're skeptical about this), and as my frustration mounted, I just sorta gave up. A year and a half later, I was back up to 240.
Fast-forward to a month ago. I was back in Minnesota, reconnecting with my roots in my hometown. I noticed that my old baseball club had a home game that night and figured I'd swing by the ballpark to watch a few innings. When I got there, I discovered that night's opposing starting pitcher was ... my age! He was an old teammate and opponent of mine, and he was still out there getting it done. While I was sipping a beer and eating popcorn in the stands, he was battling "kids" 10 and 20 years younger than us in the heat and humidity of an August night.
And that's when it hit me. I had to do something, because there was no way I could have gone out there and even run out a grounder, let alone play three games a week like I used to -- and like my old friend and foe was still doing.
So, the day I got back to Nevada, I got online and signed up for a sprint triathlon. For the uninitiated (like me about a month ago), a sprint triathlon is like the junior version of the big event -- it's a 5K run, a 12-mile bike ride and a 150-meter swim. The one I chose -- the Tinsel Triathlon in Hemet, Calif. -- is actually held in reverse order. Usually you swim first, but I guess because their swim takes place in a pool instead of a lake or ocean, they have to swim last to stagger the number of people in the water at the same time.
I've long been interested in triathlons, because they seem like a great test of general athleticism, as opposed to marathons, which just seem twisted and cruel. I always said that I'd sign up for one "as soon as I lose a little weight" because of course 240 pounds can cause a lot of pounding on the old joints.
But there comes a time in life when you've got to put the cart before the horse, so to speak, and this is one of those times. So I'm signed up for a triathlon that will take place on Dec. 14 -- you can refer to my handy-dandy countdown clock to see just how much time I've got left before my Day of Reckoning. And the fact that it's three days before my 40th birthday ... well, I'm a sucker for symbolism.
Along the way, I'll tell you all about my goals, how I plan to get there, what this process will entail, who's going to help me get it done, and everything else related to this journey of self-improvement. And of course you'll still get the same riveting discussion of sports, music, politics and gambling on football that you've come to know and love from What Happens in Henderson.
T-minus 98 days and counting ... let's get it started.
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