Adam Weitz

Run: 3 days (9.06 miles)
Gym: 2 days
Rest: 2 days

Week one went very well. We made a lot of changes to my diet and training so my body is trying to adjust. That adjustment made for a pretty crappy run on Saturday which really bummed me out as I closed the week.

Overall I’m enjoying the training. I’ve added two more days of running each week and dialed back my visits to the gym which is a nice change of pace.

With my coach calling the shots I feel like there is a lot more thought being put in to this journey than just “go out and run farther than last week.” That is giving me a pretty big boost of confidence.

My diet has changed as well. My coach has me on the Paleo Diet for Athletes. This is a modified version of the Paleo diet that adds some elements that are friendlier to people training for endurance sports.

I’ve successfully dieted in the past so I’m not too worried about this. I’m looking forward to a simpler eating solution as well as one that allows me to eat more – I get really hungry on run days.

Again, with the exception of that Saturday run, I had a blast this week and am looking forward to the next seven days.

In a previous post, I wrote about accepting an invitation to speak at a motel church.

In what is quickly becoming “typical” of God’s involvement in my life, the day ended with a lot of success and yet another surprise.

My drive to the motel was surprisingly calm. This was, no-doubt, due to my friend offering to pray with me over the phone while I drove. There is something very calming about knowing a close friend is praying hard for you. It’s a blessing I hope others experience.

I arrived at the motel on time and ready to handle whatever was going to happen. I accepted the invitation, I seized God’s opportunity, I refused to ‘stay home’, and I prepared. The rest was up to God.

The small group that was assigned to the motel that day was absolutely fantastic – caring, hard-working, and outgoing.

Being outgoing is probably the best attribute a group can have when working in this environment.

Serving the homeless is uncomfortable because there is a huge elephant in the room. The poor have an inaccurate view of the not-poor and the not-poor have an inaccurate view of the poor. We all come to the situation with preconceived views that effect our behavior.

Those who are serving can feel embarrassed that they are not poor. It’s safe to say that both groups can feel ashamed of their particular situation and this leads to that shyness.

Shyness doesn’t work here. It is important to be outgoing and accepting to the homeless and treat them with dignity and kindness. They are loved by God just as much as you so they deserve to be treated as such. Being introverted can be seen as acting above them.

While that may not be your intention, it doesn’t matter – all that matters is the feeling that comes from your in-action.

Again, this group was awesome. They were loving and outgoing. Nobody hid in the corners texting on their phones. They were engaged and it was a breath of fresh air.

Additionally, they were very supportive and encouraging of me as they knew this was my first time speaking at a motel church.

We sang a few worship songs before my message. I was very surprised by how many homeless people knew the words to the songs and sang along. Even I, who seem to be pretty open-minded toward the homeless, have my inaccurate perceptions changed regularly.

When the time came I stood up to give my message. It was very well received with people from the motel as well as the small group coming up to me to thank me for speaking. A couple people remarked that I must have written my sermon for them. If something I wrote spoke deeply to a stranger, that fact proves that I didn’t write it at all. God was in it from the beginning.

Catherine (name changed) came up to me and asked me to write down the bible references from my sermon. I was shocked someone cared enough to ask for them. I ran to my car to get a pen so I could write them down for her.

Lesson One: Always carry a pen

Lesson Two: Always print out the bible verses so people can take them home

I gave the verses to Catherine and then moved on to others at the church. One woman, on her way back to her room, said to me “thank you brother” in broken English. She smiled at me and went on her way. I’ve never been called “brother” in a church setting before. It was very unsettling yet her smile made me feel as though I really did something fulfilling today.

A little later Catherine came back to me and asked if I could speak with her. I ushered her to the side away from the others so we could talk. She had been living in this particular motel with her husband for the past week. Before they got here, child services came and removed her children giving them to her aunt.

While it is good that they went to family and not the system, she informed me that her aunt was refusing to let her speak to her children as they never got along and now her aunt was using this situation to punish her.

You can never know both sides to the story but you don’t need to in order to recognize the pain and fear someone has. Catherine was in tears as she spoke to me. She dabbed the mascara from the corners of her eyes as she told me her story. The fear she had was obvious.

I asked her if she would like me to pray with her and she excitedly said she’d really love that. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders as we bowed our heads to pray.

Catherine left to bring food back to her husband in their room and I made sure I remembered his name (and her story) so I could continue to pray for her throughout the week.

It could have been the adrenaline of seeing God make this a success but, as the rest of the morning progressed I began to get the sense that something more was required of me here. The church is still relatively new and there isn’t someone who is a ‘regular’ there. Startups need consistency. They need a face that people can see every week. I decided I should be that person.

I told the guests that I would, for sure, see them next week not knowing what my friend would think of this promise or if he’d even agree to let me do this.

As I left I texted another friend and told him that I would like to invest in this location. I would like to become a regular here and help get it off the ground. The response I got made me more than a little cold.

“That’s awesome. I guess you’re a pastor now.”

Once again… oh, crap.

I just wanted to be the guy that showed up every week because I cared about these people. I don’t want to be the pastor! I don’t even deserve to have that title mentioned with my name. I just want to serve people and, besides, I don’t even know how to be a pastor.

As I drove home things changed. I thought back over my morning. I thought of Catherine. How did I know to move to the side and listen intently to her story? How did I know what to say to her today? Why did I put my right arm around her shoulder when we prayed?

I knew the answer to my questions. How did I know how to do all of that? I had over 20 years of education. My father spent his entire career showing me exactly what to do. I’ve seen his arm go around countless people and comfort so many. I’ve watched God speak fire through him and I’ve seen how hard he tries to show God’s love to others. I had a live-in education, a front row seat, at one of the best seminaries in the world.

I will never be comfortable being referred to as a pastor and will avoid it wherever possible. My father and my grandfather were both incredible pastors and still make me proud to this day. I am in no way fit to walk in the shoes of these incredible men.

But, thanks to my father’s example, I’ll now humbly take a couple steps.

Throughout 2012 I have felt out of touch with my passion for the homeless. Satan often uses good things to distract us from great things so it is no surprise that my growing business would distract me from an important mission.

To fight this I reached out to a close friend who is part of a church plant in the homeless community. I asked if I could attend this Sunday knowing that it might reignite my passion.

Instead of giving me an invitation he asked if I would preach at one of the newest church plants (located at a motel in Anaheim).

My immediate reply was a text that simply read, “oh crap.”

I’m no preacher. I’m not even a guy who talks about God outside of church. Why should I speak?

My grandfather was a wonderful pastor, my uncle is still a pastor, and both of my parents were pastors for a large part of my life.

I was never going to become a pastor. I mean, never. I wouldn’t speak about God in a church and would certainly never be responsible for leading one.

However, last year I made a commitment that if God gave me any opportunity I would always go. I would “never stay home.”

Because of this commitment, I didn’t even bother to think about it. I just said “sure” I’ll do it.

The idea of stepping up when you’re called to serve is a romantic one. History is filled with adventurous people going where God called them.

From Bible characters to present day leaders like Steven Furtick, who moved is young family to a new town because God called him to start a church there, we see the romanticism and “legend” that accompanies following God.

But nobody ever talks about the “oh crap” moment when you get the call to do something uncomfortable. Whether it’s big or something small, like speaking at a church in a motel – when God calls you on your commitment to “go” it’s very much an “oh, crap” moment.

It’s not all riding a white horse in to battle. It’s depression, loneliness and uncertainty. Even my pastor, whose own ministry as become legend, will tell you that there were dark times of uncertainty and depression. I would even venture to guess that there was an “oh, crap” moment or two in his ministry.

But the world is better when we all move past the “oh, crap” moment and accept our place out on the field. Past that moment sits our purpose for life. Believe me, we don’t want to miss that.

More importantly, others need us to take hold of that purpose – our calling. You don’t know whose life will forever change because of your willingness to go when called.

I credit Pastor Rick for this spiritual re-awakening in my life. Had he stopped at “oh, crap” I might not be writing this now and others in my future would never be reached.

I am running in the 2012 ING New York City Marathon! I can’t believe this is actually happening!

This morning I received an email alert from our bank that showed a lower balance than expected. I was curious but apparently not enough to look in to it. Kristen, as usual, was more concerned than me and logged in from work. She immediately called me.

“Do you know why our balance is lower?”

“Nope,” I replied.

“Because the New York Marathon just charged your entry fee to the card. You’re in.”

I just laughed, I couldn’t believe it.

The rest of the day, while others were freaking out on Twitter and waiting for their confirmation emails, I knew I was going to New York because my bank statement broke the news to me.

The Perfect Bookend

A year and a half ago I sat in my living room watching the New York City Marathon. I remembered all the times I was scared to run in school and how much long distances freaked me out. I decided I would run a marathon before I was 30. Specifically, I would run the New York City Marathon in 2 years (when I was 29). You can read more about my naive decision to run this race here.

It’s fitting that the race that inspired me to run a marathon is the race I will achieve my goal in. It’s the perfect bookend for my journey, but it could have never happened.

NYC has a lottery system. You apply in January and in April, if you’re lucky, they charge your card and you’re in. Over 120,000 people (some think over 150k) apply each year but only 1 in 6 make it. Generally you apply looking to be denied three years in a row so you can get a guaranteed spot in your fourth year.

There was no way I was going to run in New York.

I stayed focused though. I didn’t worry about it. Whether I was running in New York or not, on November 4, 2012 I would physically be able to complete a 26.2 mile run.

The day I realized how hard it was to get accepted I began praying that God would give me a spot in the race. Whether he chose to answer my prayers was not a concern to me. I had work to do.

Today I found out that my prayers were answered. I put in the work and have gotten myself to a half-marathon distance and climbing. God has given me a spot in the race and now I just need to focus on my training – which is all I concerned myself with from the beginning.

Lesson Learned

The lesson here is to not worry about the things that are out of your control. Work your butt off and leave the rest to God. I did my part and applied but God got me in. I’ve spent a ton of hours running in all kinds of difficult conditions but God’s done the rest. He’s carried me to the finish line more times than I can count but I still had to lace up my shoes and get out there.

Commit to working hard on the things you can control. If you give God a little bit of your effort, something for him to work with, He’ll blow you away. Today is absolute proof of that.

If you’ve been following me on Twitter or are a friend on Facebook then you have probably heard a couple things here and there regarding a new non-profit that I’m starting.

I thought I would take a little time to tell you more about our exciting news and give you a bit of insight as to why I’m embarking on this new adventure.

To start, Givebag.org is a non-profit organization that provides small, pre-packaged meals to homeless men, women and children throughout the US.

Each bag is biodegradable and contains various food items donated by our generous supply partners. These bagged meals are available at no cost to the person giving them out, as our goal is to make it easy for you to help someone in need.

Yes, you read that correctly. It is free to receive these bags but it is also free to give them out. It costs you nothing. Nada. No sacrifice on your part whatsoever.

Why is it free?

I’m glad you asked. The two most common excuses people have for not helping someone in need are: “I don’t have any extra money to give to charity” and “I’m too busy to volunteer.”

If you’ve said either one of these sentences in the past please know that we are, in no way, arguing the validity of these excuses but it is our goal to move past these excuses and empower you to help someone.

Our “free to give” model tears down both excuses in that you can be completely broke and still give one of our bags to someone in need. Don’t have time? No problem. We’re not asking you to volunteer at a soup kitchen or take time away from your family in order to help someone. Of course, that would be great but we don’t have unrealistic expectations here.

We just ask that you pick up one of our bags, stick it under the seat of your car or in your glove compartment and go about your day. Some afternoon when you least expect it you’ll be presented with an opportunity to give it to someone in need. Think you’ll never come across someone in need? Just try me. On any given night in this country anywhere from 700,000 to 2 million people are homeless and hungry. I’ll bet good money you’ll come across someone at some point.

Additionally, GiveBag.org addresses the third excuse that people have for not helping the homeless directly. “If I give them money they’ll probably spend it on drugs and alcohol.” I won’t try to debate whether or not that statement is true. I myself have leaned more toward giving food over money throughout my adult life. With GiveBag.org, even if you’ve used that excuse before – it’s no longer a reason not to help.

Why start a charity now?

I’ve been an entrepreneur and a marketing/design professional since college. My dream has always been to grow a business, make a ton of money and then start a charity to help the homeless. It’s always been on my heart and I knew that someday I would be able to make my dream come true and impact a group of people who I care for deeply.

I had the idea for GiveBag.org about a year ago. I had been thinking and praying for months about how I could help the homeless on a large scale. Every time I would pass by a homeless person I would ask myself, and God, how I could help them.

One morning while driving past someone on my way home from the gym it hit me. I was reminded that for years I would buy a box of granola bars and put them under the seat of my car in case I came across someone who could use them. I never had a lot of money and, as a student who owned a business on the side; I never had any time to help. This was always my way of making a difference while keeping it convenient. What if I could enable, no, motivate others to do the same thing?

I kicked around the idea with my father, and business partner, for a couple weeks. Sadly we decided to put the project on hold for fear that lack of focus would hurt our existing business. Lack of focus is probably the biggest problem facing entrepreneurs. We have tons of “great ideas” and, if we pursue them all at once, we’ll sink the whole ship.

Now, over the years I’ve found myself caring less and less about starting “the next great business empire.” No, I’ll never give up my “traditional” business plans and New Harbor is not going anywhere but I have been feeling uninspired lately.

Maybe I’m just annoyed by all the extra crap involved in running a small business. Maybe I’m tired of having to sell myself every day and justify my prices. Maybe I’m just over this economy in general. Who knows the reason but I’ve just been growing tired of things. With every passing day, every uphill battle and every statement that says “payment due” I’ve found myself getting further and further away from my dream of changing the world and helping someone else.

A month ago I watched an interview with one of my many heroes, Blake Mycoskie, who founded Toms Shoes. In this interview he said that he didn’t want to wait until he was old and rich to start giving to people in need. Why wait to do the thing that you know can bring you so much joy? Additionally I had been re-reading some of Tim Ferris’ work (another big hero of mine). Tim has always been about finding a way to let your business fund your dreams now – not later.

It all started to collide in my warped little brain. My dream is to help people. Why would I want to delay that? I’m going to have to work hard anyway. Why not just start it now? Why choke down the meal when all I’m here for is desert?

So that’s when it was decided. “Someday” is not a day of the week so I might as well get going. It’s about time I start chasing after my passion.

At New Harbor Design, we were already in talks to hire a new Online Media Director and we knew it was going to be Randy Perkins, my best friend from High School who had wanted to join the team for a year or more. One day while discussing the projects we needed to complete for NHD I dropped a hint that I was thinking about starting a charity earlier than I ever planned. He perked up and I could tell this was something he would be passionate about.

I then spoke to my business partner and expressed my desire to do the “wrong thing” and pursue this charity in addition to trying to grow New Harbor. After hearing me out he was on board.

One thing I feel very blessed about is having partners that have a bar fight mentality. By that I mean, for better or worse, they have your back at all times and at some point will say “screw it, let’s roll.” Randy and Dave are like that with me. They share my passion; they know the challenges and they still manage to say, “let’s do this.” I’m sure that will get us all in to trouble some day J but for now I can say it’s a great blessing in my life.

So there you have it, that’s why. Who knows where this will take us and history will show whether or not this was a good idea. Regardless, it’s an adventure. Doing the “smart” thing or the “easy” thing is boring and I’m no longer going to do “boring.” The slogan of this site is “the pursuit of a life worth writing about” so that’s what I’m doing. Forget smart and boring. Let’s roll.

I’ve toyed with the idea of doing a series like this for some time now. This is most likely because people cannot believe what I eat on my “cheat day” and I’m cocky enough to show it to everyone.

Before we get into the good stuff, let me give you a little background on my favorite day of the week, why I do it, what it does to me and pretty much why it’s the best thing ever.

First, let’s go over the philosophy. Diets suck for no other reason than the fact that as a society we like food and diets keep us from the foods we love. Suppressing those desires leads to cravings which lead to binging which leads to “breaking the diet” that will then lead to depression and ultimately never going back to the diet ever again. Enter, the totally badass, cheat day.

I don’t like the term “cheat day.” I’ve referred to it as “my bad day,” “the greatest day of the week,” and “Adam’s Sabbath.” Okay, I’ve never really referred to it as “Adam’s Sabbath” but I’m going to now and by the end of this series you’ll agree with me.

The reason I don’t like referring to it as cheating is because I’m not really cheating. My “bad day of awesomeness” is all part of the plan. I know that in any given seven day period I’m going to get 24 hours of uninterrupted caloric and alcoholic bliss that will make anybody with an eye toward health and self-preservation throw up in disbelief. To not give in on this day would be cheating and I’m not a cheater

So why do I embrace this day? Simple, I mentioned above why diets suck. This cheat day accepts the unnaturally natural urge we all have to give in to our cravings. In fact I control my cravings better when I know that I can give in at some point. If I saw something I wanted to eat but couldn’t eat it and I had no idea when, or even if, I’d be able to indulge I’d go crazy and probably give in that very moment. This has happened to me in the past and I’m sure it has for some of you too.

I have cravings. I see commercials on TV or see photos that friends put online of their awesome deserts (Yes I’m talking about you MaryAnne!) and it’s hard to not give in. But knowing that I can enjoy that item in a couple days keeps me from ruining my hard work right now. Once I saw a Pizza Hut commercial on TV, ironically, at the gym. This pizza was insane and I just had to have it. It was Monday. I wrote a note to myself to have that for dinner on Saturday night. The minute I wrote it down it was like I already gave in to the craving and the feeling went away. Saturday night came and I wasn’t even in the mood for the pizza but I ordered it anyway because I deserved it and it was allowed.

An added benefit to this philosophy is the fact that food is even better. My love of food and alcohol hasn’t diminished at all. In fact it has grown. Limiting my indulgence for a short period of time makes giving in that much more enjoyable. For fun let’s call it “Tantric Gluttony” (that would be an awesome name for a band).

People laugh at me when I say that EVERY Friday night is like Christmas Eve for me. I’m a giddy little child because I get to wake up in the morning and

have Christmas. I’m not exaggerating. You can ask my wife. I’m almost always in a great mood Friday night and Saturdays are the best days for her to hit me up with things that might piss me off. I’m guessing that someday my children will learn to ask Daddy for things on Saturday afternoons after he’s had ten Belgian waffles and a piece of Funfetti Cake.

This philosophy also limits my chances of screwing up. For me, I don’t like making choices about food. Instead of choosing a salad at a restaurant I just assume not go to the restaurant at all. Why? Because good choices are harder for me to make so if I keep myself from having to make those choices at all then I never fail. If you’re an alcoholic why would you go into a bar to order water? Just don’t go into the bar.  This desire to avoid bad choices is one of the reasons why you won’t catch me out on the town Sunday-Friday.

There are other reasons why cheat days work. Caloric spikes can help with thyroid function and fat loss. It can also keep your body fueled if you are keeping your calories too low during the week. For me though, its the reward for a week of working hard. I’m in the gym almost every week day. Check my Foursquare account – I’ll be mayor of that place until I die:-). I’m running at night to train for a marathon and I’m dieting Sunday-Friday with intense self-discipline. Six days a week nothing enters my body unless it’s been measured, weighed and accounted for. This all happens consistently because there isn’t a moment of weakness at the McDonald’s drive-thru at 11AM on a Tuesday. But when the McRib comes back you better believe I’ll show up on Saturday.

This post, and the one that follows, is my response to the few people who know what I’ve been doing for all of 2010. Every time someone asks me if I really eat that bad on Saturday they are shocked – especially when I tell them everything I ate and I hadn’t even made it to the dinner list yet (yeah, I’ve been known to eat cake icing out of the jar). My best friends, acquaintances at the gym and even my therapist have all looked at me with equal parts concern and disbelief.

One time when I told my Father, who has had a text by text account of every pound I’ve lost, what I had to eat on Saturday he asked “you really lose weight that way?” The fact is that I do. This works for me and I’ll continue to do this until it stops working.

Here are some common questions I get when I tell people about my cheat day.

Why Saturday?
It really is just a day. It depends on how your week goes. I’ve moved the day around a little from time to time (Thanksgiving, Super Bowl Sunday) but I find Saturday works best for me. The main reason is because I am soooooo sick and hungover on Sunday (food related, not alcohol) that, if I were to eat unhealthy on Sunday, hangover day would be Monday and that would effect my job and, most importantly, my diet/exercise on Monday. Saturday allows me to go all out, get sick on Sunday, wake up at 6:30am on Monday and head to the gym without a hitch.

Don’t you gain weight?
Oh you bet your ass I do! The least I’ve ever gained after cheat day was three pounds and the most I’ve gained was ten. Yeah, you read that right – TEN POUNDS (usually I gain 9 pounds). With the way my body works, this weight gain is temporary. All of that weight is usually gone by Tuesday, maybe Wednesday at the latest. The rest of the week is where I lose my “real weight.” That means, I’ll drop ten pounds of temporary weight between Sunday and Wednesday and then between Wednesday and Saturday I’ll drop another 3/4 pounds which is my weight loss for the week. So if you ever hear me say that I drop four pounds a week, I mean that I drop four pounds between Wednesday and Saturday (I don’t count the ten pounds of awesomeness that was pulled off the first half of the week). Make sense? No? Yeah, me neither but it works.

Doesn’t the temporary weight gain slow down your weight loss?
I don’t know. Right now I’m losing around three to four pounds per week. Some weeks its less but I generally cruise along at 3/4 pounds lost per week without a single diet pill. I’m pretty happy with that. I’m never hungry, I’m enjoying my health and I don’t need to lose any faster than that. In addition, my strength increases almost daily and my muscle mass has increased significantly. Bottom line, if 6 pounds lost per week means that I lose cheat day then I’m fine rocking the 4 pounds instead.

If you lose that much weight wouldn’t you lose even more if you didn’t cheat?
Maybe. I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t really care to know. A week without a cheat day is not realistic. It’s not sustainable. Eventually I’ll end up binging so much that my life will go back to the way it was. This works. I can get tired of egg whites and spinach all week but I know it’s temporary because Saturday is on its way. Will this work forever? I don’t know. I have two goals that matter to me more than anything else. Lose weight and run a marathon. Both goals take different things in order to be achieved. If my cheat day ever interferes with one of these goals then I’ll rethink it. But I’m writing this post 46 pounds lighter and the pictures don’t lie. So as long as this continues then I’m not changing it.

Don’t you get sick?
Oh my gosh yes. If the booze doesn’t get me, the carbs and sugar will. Most of the time I can’t even drink that much alcohol because I’m so full from the food. I like dark beer and if I drank the crappy light stuff then I’d probably have more room but it’s the dark stuff for me so it’s difficult. Most Saturday nights, I don’t sleep well. I have heartburn, nausea, stomach pains and everything else written on the side of a Pepto-Bismol bottle. I’ve thrown up both intentionally and unintentionally,  I’ve had horrible nightmares and have spent hours on the couch unable to sleep. Sundays are usually my lowest caloric day of the week because I’m full until about 2pm and I’m sick until about 7pm. Not eating on Sunday is not part of the plan. I actually have to force myself to eat on Sunday so that I can stick with the diet.

Why do you do it if it makes you so miserable on Saturday night/Sunday?
Why do people go to horror movies if it scares the hell out of them? Me getting sick does two things. One, it makes me hate food so much that it’s Thursday before I even think of eating anything unhealthy. It’s like that old story where the dad catches his daughter smoking and forces her to smoke the whole pack until she throws up. Two, the great feeling on Saturday morning is far better than the horrible feeling Saturday night.

And by the way, if I don’t feel like crap on Sunday then I didn’t do it right. Some nights we’ve gone out with friends and I didn’t get to go nuts because I was either embarrassed by how much I’d eat/drink or that our bank account wasn’t big enough to keep up with me. Nobody wants to be the guy who orders the whole left side of the menu. When that happens I get very sad because I wasted my Saturday and I have to wait a whole other week. My wife then has to hear me whine about it – it sucks for her. Bottom line this day is awesome and if being sick is the price of admission then bring it on.

Would this work for me?
Maybe? I’m not going to tell you. I’m not a professional. I’m just a fat guy who is now not as fat. If you want the number of a nutritionist or personal trainer I’ll pass you on to my friends and you can talk it out with them. I went on like this for about ten months not knowing that I gained that much on cheat day. I would weigh every two weeks and I would be seven or so pounds lighter. I had no clue of what my body was doing in between weigh days. Now that I weigh every day (which I don’t recommend if you don’t enjoy crying) I have more data. Most of this post comes from the 46 pounds I’ve lost overall combined with the data I’ve gained over the last few months of weighing daily and taking measurements. Had I weighed daily at the beginning I may not have continued with this strategy. But that would have been a tragedy because I’m sure that I would have broken my diet and not had the success that I have now.

Okay, that’s it for the boring part of the cheat day series. In the next post, I’ll show you photos of EVERY single thing I put in my body on a particular cheat day. Beginning to end you’ll see a picture of everything I eat and drink but please don’t comment and tell me I need to find a sponsor after you see the alcohol part – I love Vodka and beer and you won’t see me apologize for that.

Man, I’m hungry already.

Check out gruesome photos with Anatomy of a Cheat Day: Part Two

In Anatomy of a Cheat Day: Part One I discussed the finer points of my philosophy on a designated weekly binge day. Like the previous post, this was written for those of you who have heard about this little bit of awesomeness and were skeptical as to whether or not I was able to lose weight while still eating way too much of the foods I love.

As promised, below are photos and notes of all the foods I ate on one particularly typical cheat day. At the end of the post you’ll find the statistics on how much I gained on this day and how much I lost during the following week.

Water & Vitamins
I drink one gallon of water and take vitamins (not weight loss supplements)  every day including cheat day. Water is very important and if I don’t consume this amount on a daily basis I feel sluggish and fatigued. Water is consumed throughout the day and on cheat day I don’t allow myself to consume any alcohol until I complete my water obligation. This will explain why I’ve been known to knock out a gallon of water before noon on a cheat day so that I can get to the good stuff.

Grapefruit Juice
I have been experimenting with grapefruit juice as a way to stabilize glucose spikes when eating unhealthy foods. Other factors that can help during cheat day are brief exercise and fresh lime juice prior to binging. I do not currently have sufficient personal data to prove that this works but I am looking into it. I can tell you that I have only recently introduced this experiment into cheat day and have not noticed an effect. For an entire year I did not use grapefruit juice in this way and still managed to binge, and lose, at my current rate.

Today’s Cheat Day Sponsor: Zingers!
It seems like every cheat day involves some sort of ridiculous craving for me. Some days it is cake and icing, other days it is Halloween candy. For some reason I end up craving something random and will then eat a stupid amount of them throughout the day. This may come from the fact that my weekly grocery trip is on Friday night (the night before cheat day) around dinner time when my cravings are at their height. Today’s item was Zingers. If you don’t know what Zingers are, they are basically Twinkies rolled in fruity jam and coconut. This is a twelve pack and I ate ALL of them throughout the day. This explains why you will see them in about every photo today.

Waffles: Breakfast of Champions
I love homemade Belgian Waffles! They are the best thing in the world. My wife, Kristen, bought be a traditional waffle iron for my birthday last year and now it is probably the most used appliance in our kitchen next to the microwave. I love that woman.

I do not make waffles as frequently as I would like due to my training schedule. Our longest runs are on Saturday mornings which means that my cheat day starts after that. My standard pre-run breakfast is oatmeal and a protein shake. On days where I do not run, like today, it’s a ton of waffles.

As you will see below, Cheetos always make an appearance on cheat day. On this particular day I didn’t eat as many of these as usual.  Kristen wanted “puffs” instead of “crunchy” so we got those instead. Puffs suck. They really really suck. I don’t have anything witty to say here. I just hate them.

Finally, after finishing my water it was time to start the afternoon festivities. I enjoy almost any kind of alcohol (except Smirnoff Ice which my wife drinks). My favorites are simple though. Just give me a glass of Vodka or a good beer. The below photograph represents two drinks I had. Not sure how much Vodka that is, I’ve never measured. It’s more than a few shots though.

Ahhh, time for dinner. I had two boxes of frozen Jalapeno poppers. One regular cream cheese and one cheddar cheese with a side of ranch. That’s how I roll. Full disclosure, I ate all but about 3 of these as I was starting to get very full and very sick. The day was catching up to me.

Alcohol Totals
On this particular day I consumed two large glasses of Vodka (pictured earlier) as well as 8 bottles of red ale (below).

What about desert?
We usually plan for a pretty glorious desert. Some weeks it is our favorite cake and on others it is fresh baked cookies or brownies. This week we planned on eating Oreo Cookies (double stuffed – single stuffed is for wimps – why do they even make those?). When that happens we put the bag in the middle of the couch, Kristen takes one row and I knock down the other two rows. Yes, that’s right. We’ve done this way too many times that we actually have a system.

On this particular night I couldn’t do it. I was stuffed. I simply could NOT eat anything else. I still had a couple Poppers left and just couldn’t fit any more food in to my body (except a couple more beers – I’m a champ). Sorry, I failed you. Better luck next Saturday.

It seems like the more I lose weight the less food and alcohol I can consume without feeling way too full. It sucks. Please cry for me. On more than one occasion I have consumed much more than what has been pictured in this post though I feel that this is now my average for a cheat day. I simply had to stop or else risk making myself even sicker than I intended. A side effect of this diet is that I have learned self-control. I’m not super happy about that one

The Result
What resulted was, as planned, a horrible night’s sleep. I tossed and turned and consumed approximately six Tums and that still wasn’t enough. I didn’t eat again until after 2PM on Sunday because I was still full and spent most of the day sitting on the couch groaning. All signs point to a successful cheat day.

I weighed upon waking on Sunday morning and the scale increased by nine pounds. Call it water weight, call it food volume, call it whatever you want. My weight increased by nine pounds – pretty scary to most people trying to lose weight. Below is the breakdown of my weight and why it wasn’t scary to me.

Saturday: +9 Pounds
Monday: -4 Pounds
Tuesday: – 5 Pounds (all temporary weight has been lost as planned)
Wednesday: -1 Pound (new weight loss)
Thursday: 0 Pounds (I was sad)
Friday: -2 Pounds

Total New Weight Loss for the week: 3 Pounds.

So as you can see I binged like a gluttonous freak, or at the very least someone who doesn’t care about weight loss, and still managed to lose three pounds. For those of you who will argue that I lost muscle – I actually increased weight on almost all of my lifts and showed more muscle definition at the end of the week. Besides, if I look better than the week before then I’m happy.

Thanks for reading. If you’ve been “cheating” too, please leave your comments below. I would love to share your stories.

This past Sunday morning most people were excitedly waiting for the Super Bowl. For many reasons, not the least of which was that I really dislike the Packers, I wasn’t really paying attention to the big game. Football was the farthest thing from my mind because, for me, Sunday was race day.

If you’ve been visiting this site or following me on Twitter and Facebook then you know diet, exercise and running are almost always on my mind.  This past Sunday was a big milestone for me. It was my first time running in a race but, even more, it the first step in my long road to completing a marathon. (Note: I’ve written before on my struggles and my goal of finishing a marathon. If you haven’t read it yet you can find it here.)

Sunday morning seemed to go by slowly. My wife, Kristen, and I woke up around 5:15 AM. Kristen, who always gets out of bed sooner, made her way downstairs to start breakfast. After a couple minutes I got up, weighed myself as I do every morning, and went down to the kitchen. I made my usual protein shake. The same one I have every morning and proceeded to have two cups of oatmeal to fuel up for the run. Kristen and I sat on the couch for a few minutes to finish breakfast and watch a little bit of one of our favorite shows. We were both freezing and were anticipating a horrible morning out in the cold weather. I decided to take a very hot shower thinking that raising my body temperature might be enough to get me to the starting line without frost bite. Turns out it was the best idea I’ve had yet.

After getting dressed quickly we managed to leave just a couple minutes late (that’s a plus in my house) and were soon heading up the dark freeway to our race. People have asked me if I was at all nervous for the big day and I’m surprised to say that I wasn’t. I thought I would have a horrible night’s sleep and that I would have butterflies the entire time. I was very calm the entire week leading up to the race and the night before I was just ready to go. No apprehension. I slept very hard and woke up refreshed.

I was a little nervous just regarding the logistics of it all. Parking in Redondo Beach is always a nightmare and, with the main roads being blocked off for the race, Sunday wasn’t going to be any easier. Plus, this was my first race so I wasn’t sure how much time would be needed to prepare that morning. Other than that, I was cool as could be. Kristen and I had been running for awhile and had already blown through the 3.1 miles needed a month before so this was going to be a pretty relaxed challenge.

We arrived on time and walked a few blocks to the starting line. Shortly after we got there they were already announcing the line up for our race. It makes sense that they do it early to allow for the thousands who have to line up. I hadn’t thought of that and we found ourselves rushing through our stretches. I started with the ones I knew I needed most. I struggle with shin splints a bit so I knew I had to take my time on stretching those out.

After we rushed through our stretches we made our way to an open area within the crowd of runners. At that point I was calm and, to my surprise, was in the moment and just soaking it up. I thought I would be so focused on finishing that I wouldn’t enjoy the fact Kristen and I were actually doing this. We asked a girl behind us take our picture. Usually I’m reluctant to have pictures taken but I was so happy that we were there and I knew I would want the memories. I was so calm that I even uploaded the photos to Facebook while waiting for the starting buzzer. Kristen thought this was especially weird “well, I guess he isn’t stressed.”

The buzzer sounded and we were off. First we were in the middle of the crowd, a little toward the back. I had read that first time runners should be near the back to avoid the stress of keeping up or being passed by other runners. This makes complete sense. However, this particular race was a Run/WALK. That meant there would be walkers in front of us. We didn’t really anticipate that. Again this all makes sense but it caught us off guard. Kristen and I found ourselves rushing through and trying to dodge children, grandparents, dogs, everybody in order to get some space where we could keep a good pace. I even bumped a few people and had to apologize. It was ridiculous. In future races: we’re taking the front.

The first half mile was easy. We were running at faster pace (around a 9 minute mile – we usually practice at 12:30) as we were rushing to get around people

for the first quarter mile. Both of us thought we would need to slow down. We had heard that adrenaline forces inexperienced runners to run faster than they should so we were paying attention to that quite a bit. That being said, neither one of us was about to slow down. Still making our way through the crowd, we hopped on to the sidewalk for a few seconds and then back on to the street to avoid people slowing down with their kids. I remember one mom arguing with her daughter saying “I don’t know what your problem is, you were so excited about this.” I smiled as I ran. That’s an argument anybody who has spent time around children has experienced.

Kristen and I were making our way through the crowd and I was starting to relax a little. We had some space and could just enjoy running together. We are used to running by ourselves so it was great to see all of the different types of runners out there with us. We looked over to see an insanely tall man running a few yards in front of us. When I say that he was tall, I mean TALL. Kristen, because she’s weird like that, counted at some point noting that for every stride he completed she was doing three. Not exaggerating in the least, his form resembled that of a dinosaur. For a moment I thought of the scene in Jurassic Park where they are running along the grassy hills with the dinosaurs speeding beside them. It totally looked liked that (Kristen ran next to “T-Rex” later in the race and remarked that she wanted to take her water cup from the aid station and hold it along side of him to see if there would be ripples like in the movie. Yet another reason why I love that woman. Her mind just works weird and it makes me so happy some times.)

We made the first turn and started up hill. This leg was short and a slight incline. I didn’t even worry about this one during our training. However we knew that the turn signaled that the flat “warm-up” run was over and it was about time to go to work. The next turn would be on to a leg that was a rather long uphill run. We hadn’t slowed our pace at all and hit the hill with some momentum. Still moving around other runners we made our ascent.

I passed by an older man. Very old in fact. His posture was badly hunched over and, visually, he seemed that life was getting the best of him. However things are not always as they appear. The gentleman was not walking at all. Sure his run was slower than my walk but this guy was running. Even a slow run is much more rigorous on the body than a walk and this guy was doing it. He was taking this hill like a champ and I went from feeling general concern for a frail old man to looking on him with pride hoping that when I get that old I’ll still be able to show up and bring it on race day too.

We reached the top of the hill and made our next turn passing the mile marker. The time posted was 11:53. I knew that wasn’t entirely accurate as it took us a little bit just to reach the starting line after the buzzer. This next leg was down hill and a nice little break. Kristen mentioned that she was thinking, call it hoping, that we had completed the last hill. We had driven the course a month before and counted two major hills. Having run up two hills it was easy to assume the worst was behind us. I wasn’t convinced though. I remembered a street during the drive, a long street, a steep street and that was the one in my head every night we ran hills in training. Every night when it was cold and I didn’t want to run, I thought of that street. It was coming, that much was for sure.

Another minute passed and we were continuing down hill. I made my way through the fog and I finally saw it – the hill I had trained for. We had been running for 15 minutes but for me the race was starting. So far I wasn’t challenged yet and now it was time. I knew I hadn’t played this race smart and ran at a slower pace to prep for this leg. I let the adrenaline of the race get to me and had spent too much energy to handle this hill comfortably. I looked back and motioned to Kristen who was ten or more yards behind me that the hill was coming. She said for me to go ahead and not wait for her. As the hill got closer I asked myself if I should slow down and conserve what energy I had left in order to tackle this hill with a bit of comfort. I took my last steps toward the foot of the hill. I had my answer. It was a short race. There’s no way I’d give up on this thing no matter how tired I was. “It’s only 3.1 miles!” I said to myself. Even I had nothing left I’d cross the finish line without walking. So screw it, let’s speed this up.

I took the hill with the feeling you get in your stomach when the harnesses come down on a roller-coaster. You know something’s gonna happen and, up until this point, you’ve had control but now the choices you’ve made have lead you here and you just have to take whatever is handed to you. I didn’t know what was going to happen now. I had run too fast, heck I was still running too fast. Walking was quitting to me and I knew I wasn’t quitting. Those were the choices I made so it was now out of my control.

I took the hill still working my way past other runners, so far so good. “I’ve got this!” I though to myself. I trained, I put in the work, and this is all I’m gonna get hit with? I’m awesome. As I got further up the hill the race leaders began to pass us on the other side of the street. They had made the turn and were starting to make their way down the hill. They cheered for us and the runners around me cheered in return. One guy yelled to the leaders “slow down!” and everyone in my group laughed briefly before returning to the our task.

A great thing about runners; everybody’s positive. You’re out there in the cold at 7:30 on a Sunday and that’s strange. Nobody gets that but the other people on the street with you. And, though it is a race, you aren’t really competing with everyone else. You’re pushing yourself. YOU are your biggest opponent. The guy who comes in last has just as much reason to be proud of himself as the guy who comes in first because he woke up, he challenged himself and he freaking did it. When you’re all out there together it’s amazing. There’s a bond there and you can’t help but cheer each other on.

As we continued up the hill I remember noticing how loud it was to hear the footfalls of everyone around me. Kristen and I train alone rarely running near another person. It was strange to not be able to hear my own feet because of the hundreds around me.

Another unique thing I didn’t anticipate was the idea of being passed. I’m still not used to that. Being passed on the freeway or in a race has always meant that I wasn’t going fast enough; that I was failing. I’m wrong. Everybody’s running their own race. Halfway up this hill I was passed by a woman who I would later blow past because she was walking. She was running, and walking, her own race. I have to remember to just focus on running my race and not let another runner alter it.

Okay, back to the race. We were about halfway up this hill and there was still no turn in site. I guess, when I saw the leaders racing down the hill, I assumed that the turn was close and that I was going to breeze through this one like I did the other two hills. Yeah, I was wrong. We saw the leaders race down the hill not because we were close to the turn but because they were so damn fast (the winner finished in 15:45.4 a pace of 5:05). That horrible realization sank to the bottom of my stomach.

At this point I had no idea how much was left of this hill. There was no way to judge it. The fog was so thick I couldn’t see more than 30 feet in front of me and the turn wasn’t in that 30 feet so it might as well have been 30 miles. My calm and cool breathing pattern had been messed up awhile ago and I was now huffing and puffing. I was still very comfortable with the run but the realization that I wasn’t as close to the finish as I had thought brought on a different kind of exhaustion all together.

My mouth was now dry which was new to me. I came to an aid station and grabbed a cup of water. This was another first for me. I’ve never grabbed something on the run and have never taken a sip of anything while running before. I grabbed the cup of water and breathlessly thanked the volunteer. I read in a magazine once how to grab the water cup without spilling (placing your index finger into the cup). I remembered that right after I sloppily ripped the cup from the guy. You forget the little things in the moment.

Okay, made it to the aid station without running into someone? Check. Successfully grabbed a cup of water? Check. Now it’s time for that drink. That’s the easy part right?

…The mouth full of water recklessly slammed into the back of my throat along with the air I was breathing in at the time. Apparently you’re not supposed to breath and drink. Thankfully, I didn’t cough at all. “Oh no” I thought, “swallowing air and liquid can lead to hiccups. Am I going to be the jackass finishing this race with hiccups? Am I gonna be that guy?” I lucked out and continued hiccup free. My second sip was just as difficult but I swirled it around my mouth to get rid of the dryness before choking it down. That was it, I tossed the half full cup in the trash. Drinking water was way too much work. I needed to focus on getting up this hill.

Believe me when I say that this hill wouldn’t end. Knowing that the bulk of the 10K that day was on the same street made me wonder if I ever wanted to do the 10K at all. I hate that street. I looked across to the other side as the racers were descending toward the last leg. They were making their way through another aid station. “Son of bitch” I said to myself, “that means there is so much of this street left that the course officials think we’ll need more water.” I then said some other words to myself.

Suddenly, the hill started to even out. There was no more incline. I had made it to the top. But where was the damn turn at? I have to make the turn and get back down this hill before I run out of gas. Can somebody tell me when I can stop running in this direction please! After forever I heard a man in front of me tell his running partner that he saw the turn up ahead. I still couldn’t see it but I didn’t have my glasses on so I trusted his vision. It was either that or lose hope in this fictional “turn” all together.

Finally, I saw the turn. Oh my gosh, I was done. I met the challenge and I beat it at a faster speed than I ever had before. I was done. I hung a right and started back down. I was so happy. I barreled down the hill, head high and smiling. I ran along the side of the street closest to the runners still working their way up the hill. I watched the group looking for Kristen to see how she was doing. I saw more older couples, children. I even saw a pregnant woman who, I swear, was so big I wouldn’t be surprised if she went into labor later in the day. I spotted Kristen who met me with a smile and I waved. I was happy to see her. We had gotten separated when I sped up and it was nice to know that she was still running this thing with me.

I few minutes passed as I continued. Heading down the hill you get to see the crowd behind you still working there way up. You get to take a look at your fellow racers. There was a group of runners dressed like the cast of Glee singing to a Lady Gaga loop (I was very happy that I was fast enough to avoid that section of the crowd). There were even two guys dressed in banana costumes singing through a PA. People were having so much fun and I was glad to be a part of it.

We entered a very wet and steep part of the decline. People were slipping though I don’t think anyone fell. I just heard shuffling of feet behind me. I dug in with my heals. I wasn’t going to fall. When people look back on their race I don’t want them to say “Hey, remember when that fat guy fell and rolled down the hill before mile three?” I wasn’t going to be that guy.

Halfway down the hill I began to fatigue. But I’m going downhill. The hard part is over. How is this happening? If I wasn’t gassed out during the hill climb I should be fine, right? But that’s the thing. Hills don’t matter. The only thing that matters is how long you can run. I tackled the “hard” parts of this race with energy to spare but I over-looked the real challenge which is, and will forever be, the distance. It doesn’t matter what leg of the race you tackle like a pro. All that matters is that you finish.

I started to doubt myself. I started to wonder if I could do this. Others were running and walking. I have friends who do half marathons but they run/walk. There’s nothing wrong with that. I can walk a little. It’s okay. It seemed like that was all I should do.

But then I thought of Kristen who was a couple minutes behind me. She wouldn’t see me finish but later, when I saw her after the race, I would have to tell her that, though she ran the whole thing, I gave up. I then thought of my friends online who have heard me talk endlessly about my desire to run. I thought of my friends at the gym who encouraged me to keep going. One friend at the gym was Brad. He’s the one who told me to sign up for this race in the first place. I never thought I was ready and he told me to sign up anyway. I then thought of another friend Andrew who was in line to run the 10K that day after I finished. He wasn’t going to quit today and now I’m going to? I also thought of my friend and chiropractor. The man who fixed my back and trained me so I could run again. I’d texted him after every great run. He was always there for me and continues push me. How was I going to tell him I quit and started walking? I thought of Alex, a friend I met online through our mutual passion for running. Nobody has been more consistently encouraging after every run than him. Am I really going to walk this thing and tell him I failed?

Lastly, my biggest push came when I thought of myself in November 2012 on a street somewhere in New York City it’s gonna be a hell of a lot worse then this so I might as well get used to the discomfort.

For a quarter mile I forgot how hard I trained. I forgot that I had dropped 41 pounds which is more than most people dream of. I forgot all the extra work I did, not to lose that weight but to strengthen up for running. I forgot everything I had already accomplished over the previous months. I had even forgotten what I had accomplished over the last few minutes of this race.

I forgot who I was and I forgot what I woke up this morning to do.

So what did I say to myself? What was the thing I said that finalized my decision? “Look, you already ran the hard part and you’re an idiot to give up now. Besides you ran over 4 miles last week like it was nothing. Quit being a pussy and finish this thing already.”

No joke. No exaggeration. I actually sped up.

My head raised, my back straightened and my breathing calmed. It was time to finish. I pulled out my iPhone to see where I was. It read “2.72 miles.”

“Adam” I said, “not only have you blown through four miles before, you took out 2.9 miles only two days ago at a faster pace.”

I dug in and pushed. This race was as good as done. There was no more doubt. It didn’t matter if there were ten more miles, my head was back in the game.

There was a police officer guarding the turn as I approached. “You’re at three miles man. You’ve got this. Keep it up.” I had a huge smile on my face as I passed through the turn. I recognized the street from the previous day. I knew how short the rest of the way was. It was happening. I sped passed the back of a building, the smell from the dumpsters made me cough and wheeze for the only time during the race. A comic reminder not to take this thing too seriously.

I made my last turn. The fog was low and I still couldn’t see the finish line but I knew exactly where it was at. Suddenly it appeared. I didn’t speed up or sprint to a finish. I was comfortable with my run and I was enjoying every minute. I watched as others finished and cheered, I watched as photographers focused their telephoto lenses. I soaked it all in. This was it.

I crossed the finish line. I was alone but I knew Kristen was coming up behind me. We did it together.

“Adam!” I looked around. Andrew was on the other side of the barrier waiting for his 10K to start. He took a picture and shook my hand.

“How was it?” he asked. “Oh, it was pretty good” I said and smiled. I hadn’t caught my breath yet.

I bent over and removed my timing chip. I walked through the corral with the other runners and waited for Kristen to finish and I was already thinking of the next race I wanted to run.

Not only had I completed my first race. I beat my personal best, I took the steepest and longest hill I’ve ever run and I overcame the biggest obstacle which was my own self doubt.

It’s funny to me that there was so much personal drama in such a short race but it teaches me a valuable lesson. It doesn’t matter what you go through. No matter what, you just finish.

Looking back I’m reminded of what my friend Brad told me after my longest run at the time. He said, “you never know how tough your mind is until you’re running. It’s amazing what your body can do if your head’s in it.”

Self doubt, unforeseen obstacles, physical limitations – it doesn’t matter. In a race, in life. You just finish.

May I never forget that lesson.

Thank you to everyone who continues to encourage me and push me to be better. This is the first of many races, many challenges and many posts. I appreciate you all.

I just woke up from a dream where my wife (who didn’t look at all like my wife) and I had to clear out our side of some storage unit where someone had parked a Winnebago full of Meth in it. I say Winnebago instead of RV because this thing was just a four walled piece of siding on wheels (think MTV Road Rules circa 1995).

We were obviously in a hurry to back the thing out before the cops arrived. There was a nice gay couple who lived in some sort of addition to the other side of the storage unit. Their side of the unit acted as their garage and had stairs going up to their home. This nice couple took the time out of their heated argument to help my wife clear the boxes out from around the tires so I could back out.

As we peeled out with the sirens getting closer, the Meth turned into a box of deer meat and antlers. I remember thinking, why do we need a whole Winnebago when it’s just a 24x24x24 inch box? Just as suddenly an elderly couple appeared out of nowhere and the husband began to drive the Winnebago for us. The husband slowed down into a circular driveway to let two people on bicycles pass with the old wife saying “see I knew we shouldn’t have passed them before.”

At this point I leaned out of the Winnebago and shyly waved to the one wearing an old yellow t-shirt looking up at me. We used the exit as a turnaround point and hopped onto a freeway heading back from where we came.

Before seeing “Inception” I would have thought that we needed to throw out the steak in the freezer because it’s making me trip out. Now though I’m wondering if I’m in a dream within a dream and am expecting to wake up refreshed in the first class cabin on a flight back from Sydney.

Okay, time to go back to “sleep”