Today marks the beginning of the fourth week of my diet program. I was both looking forward to and dreading getting on the scale. Has all of my hard work and dedication paid off or has my body decided enough is enough and is revolting and not taking off the weight? These are the kinds of internal struggles I now find myself dealing with. At the beginning of my diet I weighed myself on January 13th to find that I had reached an all-time high of 210 pounds. I had vowed to myself never to get above 200 and here I was 10 pounds later cursing the bathroom scale like it was the machine’s fault.

I stepped on the scale with my eyes closed saying a silent prayer to the scale gods. “Oh holy being of springs and counter measures. May your justice be swift and may your dial be slow. I pray thee oh mighty bathroom deity cleanse me of the excess weight and I shall praise thy name from the highest toilet!”

Yeah I know, sometimes I can be really eloquent as the words flow through me like a supersized value meal from McDonalds. After a loud and thunderous “AMEN!” I opened my eyes and peered down at the dial hoping for great results. The scale screamed out at me, 194.5!

This would put my total weight loss to date at just over 15 pounds. I know I should be delighted and sing the fat-going-skinny anthem and yell “IN YOUR FACE HOHOS!” but instead I find myself more than a little frustrated and unhappy.

For the week I had lost between two and three pounds. According to the medical profession this is the sign of healthy weight loss. But after losing ten pounds the first week and three pounds the second week I am beginning to see a diminishing scale of success and that frustrates me.

I’ve diligently been following the program eating five small meal replacements that although are nutritionally balanced are less tasteful than the food I regularly had been eating before this program started. My “Lean and Green” meal each night too has changed from red meat 3 times a week to one buffalo burger in 3 weeks.

I’ve carefully measured everything that goes into my body to make sure that I am following not only the spirit of the program but I’m following it to the letter of the law. I’ve been consuming eight 16-ounce glasses of water daily and subsequently been burning calories by running back and forth to the bathroom to get rid of the eight 16-ounce glasses of water.

This week I’ve added exercise to the program taking brisk walks at night to incorporate aerobics into my daily routine. As a thank you, my body has decided that it should slow down the rate of weight loss. To say I am frustrated would be an understatement.

This program is supposed to help me to not only lose weight but to create an environment of healthy choices that will lead to long-term good health. A lifetime of bad choices in food selection and lack of exercise has put me where I began this journey.

I know I shouldn’t look at a 2.5 pound loss as a failure but I still cannot help but be self critical about what I can change to get the weight loss back to 3 pounds a week. Yeah I know, it is a lousy half-pound. It equates to about 250 calories a day. That’s a candy bar or a soda or a small bag of chips. It sounds so trivial that way but in a program where you don’t have candy bars, sodas, or chips those calories have to be accounted for somehow.

My obsessive side of my personality immediately began hatching ideas of what I could do to make up for those calories. The first inclination was to cut out 250 calories a day from eating. That’s what I would have done in the past, just skip a meal and problem was solved.

Unfortunately that is part of the reason I am where I am today. It wasn’t that I was necessarily eating the wrong things (well that was part of the problem) but rather when I would eat them. I would skip breakfast, have a snack of fruit in mid-morning, skip lunch and have some crackers, chips or soda in the afternoon then eat a huge dinner followed by a large dessert. I would then stay up until 2 or 3 in the morning in front of the computer with a bowl of late night sugared cereal then sleep for four hours and start again.

That is not exactly textbook behavior for good health. In that scenario it would be easy to find 250-calorie reduction but the self-defeating behavior would still continue. In my new regime where I am eating small “meals” 5 times a day with a healthy meal of protein and vegetables in an early dinner finding 250 excess calories is quite a bit harder and would likely defeat the program. The body would go into “feast or famine” mode and begin storing rather than burning fat.

Instead I turned my attention to exercise. After getting off the scale I immediately ran to Google and began a search for “Exercise to lose 1 pound a week”. Obviously I am not the first person to use this search term as it returned countless 1,000’s of results. I learned that to lose a pound a week you needed to burn 3,500 calories more than you eat in a week. This would equate to 500 calories a day.

I immediately began searching for 500-calorie exercises. I could run an 11-minute mile, bicycle for an hour, swim for 45 minutes and many others. The problem of course is the same that I have faced my entire life – time and motivation. Where in my day am I going to find an additional hour in my day to suddenly add this intense exercise?

I had already begun to walk each evening for 30 minutes now I somehow was trying to talk myself into finding another 60 minutes to tack on to the walk with a run in order to get me the calorie expenditure I needed. And exactly who was going to come pick me up after I ran away from home for an hour every night?

This of course added to my frustration. I wanted to fix things and I wanted immediate results given the work I was putting in. Although I was seeing progress I am suddenly not content with how quickly it was coming. This wasn’t a diet problem. It wasn’t an eating problem. This was a personality problem.

My biggest opponent and the one that is most critical to what I am doing is me. Like so many other aspects of my life I am the one who is driving myself crazy over a mere half pound. It is me who has introduced additional stress of trying to solve yet another of many problems in my life. It is me who has taken a positive and suddenly turned it into a negative. All of these things I am experiencing are a microcosm of bigger problems I need to deal with in my life.

I need to be humbled and be grateful for what I have not continually want more. I need to realize that while I am accountable for the things that occur in my life many of them are outside of my control and that I need to just be content in knowing that it is not the distance I traveled or the progress I’ve made but rather the experiences I have gained as a result of the journey.

So I may not make my weight goal to be at my optimum weight by Opening Day. It may take a few weeks longer but those extra weeks should be used to be grateful that I took this journey at all. Those extra few days may teach me a life lesson that will help me overcome adversity and build stronger defenses against stumbling and falling and that should be worth the effort.

Like many other people I can remember exactly what I was doing eight years ago when I learned of the terrorist attack on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center the morning of September 11. I am not sure I could classify this as a life changing moment for me but more of an awakening.

Before the events of September 11, 2001 I was someone who took freedom for granted. I didn’t give a second thought to my ability to protest something I did not like or voice my opinion with little repercussion other than fearing I would sound like an idiot.

I naively believed I was safe and could travel anywhere in the world without fear that harm may come to me. All of the bombings, hijacking, and other terrorist attacks were something that occurred on the other side of the world. It was a story you saw on television, not something you dealt with at home.

But as I sat in my living room that morning watching as rescue crews were running through the streets of New York while two buildings were in flames as the result of planes crashing into them my perspective changed.

After that day I was no longer free to walk to the gates of an airport and meet arriving family members. I have to consider what I can and cannot carry with me when I travel. My bags are routinely checked now when I enter sporting events or amusement parks. My children now use the word “terrorist” in their conversations and are talking about events that impact our country not some obscure Middle Eastern nation.

Each day I am reminded how different the world is today than it was eight years ago before the attacks. I’ve made a conscious effort to not allow these events to dictate my life and to not dwell on the negative that has occurred in our society in the aftermath of that day.

I’m afraid that if I allow myself to change as a result of what happened in New York, Washington DC, and Pennsylvania on September 11 I will have allowed the terrorists to win. They are counting on my fear. They are counting on disrupting my life and the lives of those around me.

So rather than worry about the possibility of another attack, I am instead taking a moment to remember the innocent victims and their families that were left behind. After that moment I will look outward and try to appreciate the freedoms I am still afforded and know that I am lucky to be a resident of this country.

Life will go on and I will try to ignore the fear mongers who proclaim impending doom. I will instead look for ways to teach my children that regardless of what others attempt to do, they cannot take away our freedoms unless we allow that to happen. Fear will never be the driving emotion in our lives.

Forty years ago my friends and I were complete engrossed in yet another baseball game in our front yard.  It was a daily ritual that lasted from the moment the sun began peeking over the horizon and ended with the last player’s mom called from a far off porch telling us it was time for bed.  There was very little that could disrupt our continuous ball game.  But on a fateful day in mid-July 1969; all play stopped.

From the front door my father emerged and walked out onto our make shift ball field. “I thought you might like to know that Apollo 11 is beginning its decent.”  With that announcement someone yelled “Time Out!” and the game stopped.  We dropped our mitts and ran to the house.  Every kid in the neighborhood was now in the living room glued to the front of the television.  We sat and listened as we heard the voices of the astronauts and mission control.  The picture was nearly non-existent and by today’s standards it was horrible quality but each of us felt as though we were there sharing a cabin with Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong.

For a brief moment we too were astronauts traveling away from Earth’s atmosphere to the unknown adventure of setting foot on the moon.  My mother bless her heart helped these dreams by bringing each of us space snacks which were kind of like a homemade version of <a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Space_Food_Sticks”>Pillsbury Space Food Sticks</a> and of course a glass of <a href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tang_%28drink%29”>Tang</a>.  As we snacked on chocolate cookies shaped like astronaut food we watched as Neil Armstrong took that first step and uttered his immortal words.

We watched the entire broadcast that day before finally leaving the living room and our adventure to return outdoors.  Each of us stopped to look at the sky in a completely different way.  We were no longer an earthbound species.  Things would be different now.  We had fulfilled a dream that was first mentioned by a president when we were babies and now man had walked on the moon.

That night I sat on the grass after the other ballplayers had left and looked up at the sky.  The moon seemed closer now.  It was within reach.  My mind raced with the possibilities.  I envisioned there being space stations and settlements on the moon.  I truly believe that in my life time we would see men set foot on another planet and stretch our boundaries even beyond our imagination.

Somewhere those dreams fell back to earth just like the command module of Apollo 11.  There would be others who would walk on the moon but then we would leave never to return.  Now here we are 40 years later and I once again find myself looking up at the moon and dreaming of what could have been.  Hopefully somewhere there is someone with a dream as strong as John F. Kennedy who can persuade us to once again reach to the stars and beyond.

Today is Columbus Day. Well technically yesterday was Columbus Day and today is Columbus Day Observed. It always drives me crazy when the government decides it can randomly change the date of a holiday in order to conform to a workday. I think that frustrates me because the only reason that they move the holiday is so that they get a day off from work. That is like putting my kids in charge of monitoring the cookie level in the cookie jar. No matter how good their intentions I can guarantee that the cookies will be distributed in such a way that they will get the most while the rest of us will get a subset of the total available cookies. The fact that I had to get up this morning and go to work while the postal service, retail banking, and government workers were able to sleep in has not endeared me to Columbus Day Observed. But that’s not the only issue I have with Columbus Day.

I just don’t get how we could make this a holiday. I mean what exactly was Christopher Columbus’ major achievement? He and his buddies were looking to make a road trip because Spain in 1492 just wasn’t that much fun. They heard there were so great parties and food in China and India so they got themselves a sugar momma that would finance a road trip. They promised Isabella that they would make it a short trip and that they would bring her back something nice; typical guy thing. Then the boys loaded up the boats and took off. Like most guys they looked at the map and quickly decided that there had to be a short cut that the map guy was saving for himself. So they threw out the maps and turned in the exact opposite direction of where they should have been going. I’m sure it wasn’t too long until they realized that they had no clue where they were going. In typical guy fashion, instead of stopping and asking for directions they just kept going. And when they finally landed what did Columbus do? He told everyone that this is where he meant to go. Columbus went on to suggest that he “discovered” this new place. Problem with that of course was there were already people there; just a slight detail he overlooked.
So basically what we have is a holiday that celebrates a man’s tendency to get lost, not ask for directions, then claim victory when things didn’t go his way. They should just change the name of this to “Married Guy’s Day”. I go through this every day. The difference between me and Columbus; I know the earth is flat but that’s a whole other story.

“Bleep, bleep, bleep” Almost on reflex you reach over and smack the alarm clock hoping that this time it will be the death blow that will put it out of its misery. Every morning it is the same thing; a perfectly good dream is interrupted by that alarm clock. You think to yourself, “one of these days I am not going to have to listen to that thing. One of these days I am going to have a day all to myself without anyone telling me what to do.” It’s funny; you’ve been saying that since you were a teenager. Back then the alarm clock was beckoning you to get up and get ready for school. Ah, those were the days. As if on cue the alarm is silenced and instead music begins emanating from the speaker. You lay there being serenaded by Gloria Gaynor as she sings, “I Will Survive”. That somehow seems appropriate this morning and you wonder if that song was meant for you or for the alarm clock that you nearly destroyed again. Maybe today won’t be so bad after all. Even before you could complete that thought the disc jockey ruined the moment when he said, “well there’s an oldie goldie we haven’t heard in a few decades.” Great that is just what you need; another ‘punk kid’ reminding you that you’re not getting any younger.

As you slowly get out of bed you realize that “slowly” is becoming your favorite adverb that you use to describe yourself. It’s funny, you never think of yourself as growing old. Inside it feels like you’re a teenager with your whole life still before you. But as you shuffle into the bathroom and look into the mirror, that is not the image of a 17 or 18 year old kid looking back at you. No that is a reflection of the person who stole your youth and left you with a middle-aged costume that you have to wear every day like some sort of class hazing. Yup, that person definitely ripped you off and no one except you even seems to care. At first you think it is just a bad dream but the bruises on your arm where you keep pinching yourself to wake up are very real. You gaze at your reflection and draw strength from the fact that you’ve earned every one of those middle-aged features. Today you have challenged yourself to overcome the doom and gloom. Today you take back your youth and kick middle-age to the curb.
The question is, how do you do that? If you’re not careful this could be another one of those ill-advised self-search journeys that ends up with you doing something crazy and having to explain it to other people. No this had to be a little bit more subtle than going out and buying a motorcycle with thoughts of touring the country like a renegade biker or making reservations to go scuba diving with hammerhead sharks. Change in this sense needs to be a little more gradual. After all, you’re still using that “slowly” adverb and that doesn’t change overnight. What you need is a plan, one you can work on every day that will erase the regrets you may have accumulated through life’s journey and replace them with priceless memories that you bring out and share with everyone around you. Today is that day; now is that time. You just need to seize the moment before it is gone.

Father’s Day is always an interesting day at our house. It has evolved a lot over the years of our marriage. It began as a simple day where things just kind of flowed. When the kids were really young we usually celebrated with a handmade card and perhaps breakfast together. As we collected more kids and they got older the celebration got a little bit larger and more involved. Trina would work with the kids to make sure to take each of them shopping and allow them to pick out something for their dad. This usually meant that I received a very eclectic series of presents ranging from stuffed animals to art supplies to colorful shirts. As the kids are now starting to get old enough to start leaving the house for school the holiday continues to evolve. Now I usually get an e-card along with a note saying that they are poor college students and if I could please send money they would be happy to send me something (assuming I send enough money since they had things to buy too). It’s not just about the gifts though.

I am finding that the kids are starting to mature and grow into adults with their own views and thoughts. Some of their tendencies I can relate to as views are similar to mine. Others are quite original and are obviously their own based upon what life experiences they have gathered through their limited time on this planet. This is the part that I find most enjoyable; to watch as they try to make their way forging their own path through life. Like every parent I hope that they will remember the good things that I taught them and forget the mistakes that I made while they were going up. There were many times they would present me with situations and questions that I didn’t have an answer to and wished they hadn’t asked. I did what I could to try to answer the best of my ability. Since I was learning to be a parent as they were learning to be a child my advice and decisions were not always the most consistent. I tried to take each of their circumstances into consideration to make decisions based on what I felt was right for them at that time. I am sure they didn’t think that was fair and wondered why I would answer one way when they asked then completely reverse my position the next time I was confronted with the question. It was not that I was trying to confuse or frustrate them; it was just that my views may have changed or something may have come up that made me think that a change was warranted to give them the best possible advice I could.
I have not always been there when they thought I should. I have missed events which in their lives were probably the most important activities they have ever been a part of. I am sure they thought that I didn’t care otherwise I would have been there. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be there, it is just that sometimes you are presented with conflicting schedules and you have to choose what needs your attention the most even if it is not the thing you want to do. At those times the kids were always in my mind and I wished with all my heart that I could always be there for them. My absence may have been disappointing but hopefully it helped them to understand that daddy won’t always be there even if he wants to be. At some point in their lives they won’t have me by their side physically but they will always have me there spiritually. For each day I have tried to provide them with some lesson in life that they can use to reach their potential. That is what I want them to remember most on Father’s Day.

Time is an interesting animal that refuses to be domesticated. I have sort of a love hate relationship with time. From a scientific perspective I am fascinated by the whole concept of time. It is an invention to allow man to measure the inconceivable. For whatever reason as a species we are consumed by the idea that we must measure and compare one instance of existence to another. Some people choose to use these measurements to place value comparisons on their evolution. Others hope to mark off each moment as a sign that they were here. It is as though they are afraid that without somehow marking it down their lives would hold no value. Time follows us everywhere we go and we cannot escape it. Even after we have passed beyond the boundaries of this mortal life we are still measured by time. Visit any cemetery and look at the headstones. The majority of these are filled with the concept of time. These carved stones mark the final resting place of a human beings earthly vessel. Does the stone give us any indication of the type of life these people lived? Instead all we know of their journey through this world is their arrival and departure time.

Through my life I have come to the realization that there are some people who can exist a lifetime without actually living while there are others who can exist for a moment but live for a lifetime. Each day as I contemplate my existence I have to wonder which type of person I have chosen to be. Seeing time from this perspective I find myself as inquisitive as a small child trying to understand how it works and more often why it is so important. On the other end of the extreme I find myself detesting the mere concept of time. Time feels like a container which is used to entrap my spirit and dictate where it can travel and when. No matter where we turn we are surrounded by time which is constantly reminding us of its passing. This constant reminder acts to frustrate us as we realize that each moment once gone can never be replaced. It is depressing to think about how many of these precious points I have wasted away never to see them again. Each moment should be cherished and appreciated. Not in a way that is locked away and hoarded but freely used to be enjoyed. Although time continues to pass marking our progress like road signs along a deserted highway it is also an enabler for us to gauge how far we have come. If we compare the memories we have accumulated through our lives with the amount of time it took to collect them we can understand how efficient we are in using the resource of time. I’ve always dreamed of unlocking some cosmic secret that would allow me to manipulate time increasing its abundance when I want and slowing its pace when I want to savor a moment. But I’m not sure whether even that would satisfy me. I would lament all I missed chasing after time. For now I will have to be content living each day attaching a memory to each moment.