Mention and You Shall Receive!

"We were dreaming this up and suddenly it's another new reality," my wife just said, as I was about to begin writing this blog post. Remarkably, we had the idea only a few days ago, really wanted to get one, and suddenly we have it and are using it. 

With many thanks to my friend Brian and his family who read my previous blog post about Tag-a-Long ride-on bike trailers. He had one he used for two years for his young son but it became a bit too wobbly so he gave it to us. His son is big enough to ride on his own now, and I happen to be handy, so it all worked out. Turns out all it needed was a large thin washer to fill in a tiny gap in the hitch to make it work well.

Don't be fooled by my daughter's apparent grim expression in the photo, she had a blast and would NOT let me stop. I had a personal trainer back there yelling, "Come on, Daddy, pedal! You can do it!" The little tramp wouldn't let me coast. And in spite of the trailer being a tad big for her 2-months-shy-of-four-year-old body, she could have gone all night and had no problem holding on.

Here are the questions I had before using a Tag-a-Long that I can now answer:

• Do you lose your balance? Not at all. Maybe it's because I'm so heavy and she so small, but it wasn't an issue. Once she wobbled back and forth on purpose and it was a bit annoying but there were no balance issues at all. 
• Is it harder to ride pulling it? A little, not much different than our sit-in bike trailer with the only difference being sometimes my daughter made up for the drag by pedalling. It was like there's a bit of a drag on your bike that varies. It varies because the child's pedalling varies. 
• Can you turn sharply? Yes, she even liked turns because it was thrilling.
• Is it hard to get started? Not really. The adult straddles their bike then the child sits on the trailer bike. Then you go. It's not that different than not having it and there were no issues.
• Does the child's pedalling help? I'd say yes. At brief moments she made up for her extra drag it seemed.

You have to do some extra breaking than normal when you're stopping but that's no big deal. It's tempting to want to go fast but if you crash, your child crashes. We went about 15 KM/hr.

I highly recommend these types of products. They're recommended for children between 4 and 9. But for practical purposes, most people only use them until their kids can ride a two-wheeler. By the time she's six or seven, I can't see her needing to use this. 

This unit costs $100 at Canadian Tire. Sport Chek has a slightly better one for $130. Other stores carry more expensive models but this one is just fine with the extra washer (so far.)

She was very proud of herself.

Tonight is the eve of my son's eighth birthday. He's an avid little cyclist now and I'm immensely proud of him. I think he's a bit jealous that his daddy-son bike trips now can include his baby sister. It's our thing, after all. But my wife and I felt bad doing family bike rides with my daughter sitting pretty in the other sit-in bike trailer. My daughter wants to ride badly with us but can't keep up, obviously. This is a great solution.

I'm very happy and so is my little girl, who has informed me we'll be hitting the streets first thing tomorrow.

Next Year's Cycling Machine?

I have a three year old girl and a seven year old boy (he turns 8 on Friday.) The boy is already an avid cyclist, as you may have read. And the girl's getting that way too but she can't keep up. We feel bad pulling her in the bike trailer on family bike rides because she can't get any exercise or do more than enjoy the view.

My wife and I are jonzing to buy the above product for a little over one hundred dollars. It's a ride on bike trailer for kids aged 4-9 to ride with you. Here are some of its features:

• True quick release system for fast detachment from adult bike
• Adjustable handlebars, up/down and rotation adjustments
• Child can pedal forward, backward or coast

I found this photo on the Internet

I saw one on the bike path last night, and let me tell you, there was no one we passed all summer who were cycling faster than that family. And the kid must have been only four like my daughter will be next season. I wanted to yell out, "Hey do you like that?" but they were gone in an instant (headed in the opposite direction.)

I can see us using it for at least three years then selling it. If my daughter doesn't have the same abilities as my son does now at age 7, maybe we'll use it longer. Either way it would allow the four of us to do all the biking we wanted.

Self Portrait of Me Cycling

Notes: 1) I'm looking away to make it seem more natural. 2) My helmet does fit my giant head, contrary to how it appears. 3) I wear a sweat band because I really, really have to. 4) My glasses are tilted down to keep the bugs out.

It's My Party, I'll Binge If I Want To (Updated)

First: "Running" with the Family

If you drove through my neighbourhood tonight you might have seen a once-sedentary family out jogging together. We were on our second lap of walking on this cool evening when I just up and decided I was going to jog--because I could.

My son started too. Within moments he was blocks ahead of me, but no matter, it was an astonishing event. My wife was giddy and proclaimed herself glowing to see her family out jogging together. We never would have imagined ourselves being an "active" family.

What's next? Triathlons? I'd doubt it. But four months ago when I first broke out of a walk into a trot, just to see if was possible, I could only do ten seconds without massive fatigue in my lower body and my heart beating like a rabbit.

Tonight it was almost magical, almost "out-of-body" to find myself jogging with the people I love. My wife and I both realized right away that doing such a thing would redefine our lives in dramatic fashion if we kept it up.

I pictured us driving off in the cold winter a couple nights a week to walk and jog at the field house. Not sure we can afford that right now, but the future is open to possibilities.

A Fantastic Walk/Jog Tonight Leads Me to Write

Chrystal Levy's story is very similar to mine

Since my unpleasant, adrenaline-pumping incidents on the streets of my neighbourhood last week, I've had plenty of feedback and heard many horrible stories. But most people soldier on, especially those whose health depends on it. Myself, I chose to keep walking past Angry Entitled Teenager's house because it's on my normal walking route.

This attitude applies to everything in life: Don't let your fears get the best of you, meet them head on. That said, I'm wired for confrontation. It has to do with a troubled upbringing. I have to get past that. If I seek confrontation, or don't avoid it when possible, I could run the risk of being in a violent situation when it is totally unnecessary. I've also watched a number of self-defence videos on YouTube that helped put me at ease.

In the last week or so I've been doing a little jogging every night instead of 6 or 7 minutes twice per week. Depending on how I felt I might do as little as thirty seconds, just to spice up my walk, or a couple of bouts of two minutes. I wanted to try something different to see how my body and fitness level would respond. Then last night I just walked without any jogging so I could rest up for a longer jog tonight.

Tonight was fantastic. I was strong, my heart rate was relatively moderate and I barely broke a sweat. On other nights I will seek out a higher (85%) heart rate by running slightly faster, at least for a while at the end, and I'll welcome the inevitable buckets of sweat, but tonight, it was comforting to have my seven minute jog seem almost effortless.

My goal with running is to gradually increase it and add some spice to my workout routine beyond just walking. It really is great to get the heart pumping for a sustained period. It's the greatest natural drug you can get. If you absolutely refuse to ever try a little running, I know a couple of women who do Zumba (Latin dance workouts.)

I saw a story on the national news Friday night about a woman who very much reminded me of me and my journey in the last few months. She was feeling sore, drained of energy and very immobile. She started walking and she's a very different woman today. You can watch the video of the news story here. Think of me when you do and know that I spend my days looking forward to my next workout.

Second Night In a Row...

I had another incident on my walk this evening, this one of a violent, verbal nature that's left me feeling less comfortable on my streets than last night.

In almost the exact same spot the incident last night came to an end, a young man dressed in a hoodie, smoking a cigarette kept staring at me as I crossed the street and walked toward him wearing my over-the-ear headphones. He repositioned himself to intercept me.

This sort of manoeuvre bothers me. Not only do you feel threatened late at night on an empty street but it's also just something people wanting money from strangers will do as well (like I have any to spare.) Fresh in my mind was a recent incident of someone doing just that but holding a bicycle to block us while my son and I biked down a busy street. On that occasion I told the man I couldn't stop, I had my child with me. He didn't take it well at all, but that was that.

Also fresh in my mind, of course, was last night. I was more than a little uppity about being hassled on the street in any way. I ignored the young man as he spoke to me. Then he raised his voice after I was past him and, for some reason, my brain told my mouth to say, "Sorry, Buddy, I can't help you."

Less than a minute later a tiny beater of a car blew past me from behind with the window open. A middle finger was thrust out of it directed at me. I instinctively returned the favour by doubling the offer. The car then did a U-turn and pulled around to block me as I tried to cross the next street.

I was a bit ornery to say the least but I also didn't know if I was about to die. I had no idea who was in the car. There was a grow-op busted this summer not 100 feet from where I met the dude. He started yelling at me. My response? I cupped my ear, still with headphones on, and said in mocking, almost Nickelsonesque voice, "Sorry, I can't hear ya!" and kept walking.

He pulled around again and parked beside me on the street, yelling and even more agitated, from what I could see. I lifted my earcup off and had a listen. Turns out he was looking for his dog. He lost his sanity and was screaming near nonsense, then came out: "Just because I'm eighteen you won't talk to me?"

I'm making him sound awfully polite and non-threatening. He was not.

I told him, "You'll have to forgive me, I was harassed on that very spot last night by a bunch of teenagers, so yeah, I didn't want to talk to you."

I'm making myself sound awfully polite and non-threatening. I was not. But I did say those words, just not likely how you think I did.

I then offered to help look for his dog. He went on losing his shit on me. I then informed him I wasn't going to help him look for his dog and continued home as he his tantrum progressed. Then he stalled his car by mishandling the clutch.

Sure, only I would have ignored someone like that to their face. Any other night, though, I would have talked to the guy. But this evening was set up to happen this way because of last night's events.

With him being eighteen, I'm not likely to encounter him wandering the streets again as long as his beater holds out. But I really, really wonder what's happening with kids today. They think they're so entitled. A lot of guys would have confronted him physically. He's lucky I'm a pacifist with anger issues.

Or maybe he thought I was a harmless obese person he could say anything to.

----------------------

Here are some excerpts of the remarkable feedback I got from friends regarding last night's post:

Reminds me of the first time I went for a walk with (my husband) after having the twins. Not two blocks out the door and a couple teenage boys yelled out "hey buddy, your wife's a fat, ugly &@$)*." I knew they were idiots, but damned if that didn't stick with me for awhile.

---

I have been running on and off for 15 years and only recently stopped caring if people think I look like a dork while doing it. I know I don't look as good as I hope and I know I don't look as bad as I fear. I NEVER run alone after dark because I am afraid, and it pisses me off that I have to be afraid. I have considered running with bear spray but know that if it was ever turned on me I would be in a worse position than I was to start with. My defence is to stick to public paths and to only go in the daylight, preferably where if I scream for help someone will hear me. That means that someone will see me while running, and I'm a sweaty, red-faced mess when I run - but I feel freaking amazing.

I (and I think most female runners) are used to wolf whistles and cat calls. I have been mooned. I have been sworn at. I was swerved at once by a car. Depending on my mood, I might shrug it off or I might flip the bird (which only bit me in the ass once when I wasn't paying attention and it turned out to be a friend trying to say hi).

---

When I was perhaps 20 and (my brother) 18, I was driving him to (a store). While I was slowly looking for a parking spot in the lot, an obese young woman (older than we were -- maybe 30) was walking out of the store. My...brother promptly started pointing and laughing, rolled down his window, and yelled out to her "Suuueeeee! Roll her in flour and go for the wet spot! Slap her thighs and ride the waves in!" 

Everyone in the lot looked first at him, then at this poor woman, who had done nothing whatsoever to deserve such a public humiliation. Some people laughed. I was horrified, and instead of stopping at the store, kept driving. When I expressed outrage at him, I clearly remember him laughing and telling me I should lighten up -- in his opinion, I was the one with the problem, not him. I never drove him anywhere ever again....

Street Mockery: A Possible Pitfall To Taking Up a Fitness Quest

It's been suggested by more than a couple of people that I write this blog to inspire others, not only the obese with looming health problems (like the recent me), but also couch potatoes everywhere who would benefit from exercise inspiration. I don't know if my potential for motivation is realistic or not, but I'd hate to think for one second that I would ever write something that would discourage someone from firmly grasping the reins of their life and yelling "giddy-up!"

I worry that there might be someone reading this, now or in the future, who is sitting on the fence and might be scared off by something I write. So don't take this story as something to worry about. I don't. We fat people often have a thick skin anyway. I don't let myself get bothered by these things and I tend to forget about these types of incidents a couple hours after they happen, and you can too.

There are a lot of teenagers in my suburban neighbourhood and there doesn't seem to be much for them to do but roam the street in packs. When I got to the point in my walk (time-wise and geographically) where I start jogging I saw a pack of teen-aged girls walking a bit ahead of me in the middle of the street while I was on the side walk. I thought to myself that this'll be a test to see if I can jog publicly without being self-conscious. It was much earlier than I usually walk-jog so the streets and side walks were a lot more busy than I'm accustomed. Nevertheless, I had little hesitation about it since I've been getting a lot more relaxed hustling my large but ever-more capable body around these days on foot and bicycle.

I hit the button my my iPod for my "powersong" (the Nike apps have have a powersong you can jump to when you want to kick it up a notch) and I began jogging. Heart rate monitor attached, I tried to make sure my pace was nice and slow like I usually have it. I wanted to make sure I wasn't going too fast due to people watching.

I trotted along and kept an eye on the girls waiting for them to notice. With music blasting in my ears, I could still see their body language and understand what was going on. One looked back at me, told another, they all looked and it went on from there.

One girl broke from the crowd and decidedly wandered in front of me on the side walk and slowed down. A lifetime of being overweight conditions you to ignore things like this. However--and I blame my combative and troubled childhood for this--I wanted to punch her in the back of the head. Instead, I side-stepped her while attempting to ignore her and her friends, at least on the surface.

But they weren't done. Small groups of them mockingly started to run down the street then fall down, feigning exhaustion. By the time I got to the intersection of a main street, they had fallen down on the street, in the lane of oncoming traffic and an SUV stopped right in front of me, causing me to quickly run to avoid it. All told I had not kept my very slow pace that was usually no more than 78 percent of my maximum when I jogged, a fair way shy of the 85% I'm supposed to stay below.

By the time I left the attention-starved, hormone-laden teen girls behind (and a horrified driver) I had unintentionally got my heart rate 20 beats above my 85% limit, just 9 beats below my maximum heart rate. My chest was starting to tighten and I was sucking wind like crazy. I couldn't get enough air. At first I was stubborn and didn't want to cut short my jogging routine (6.5 minutes) but a few moments later, I came to my senses and started to walk again. It took quite a few moments for my heart rate to recover to a reasonable level. I was discouraged, pissed off and lucky I didn't have a heart attack.

When I first started exercising in the spring I was doing a 20 minute walk around my block (It's a huge block due to a green space and school.) One Friday night I encountered a large group of very hyper young teenagers near the school. I crossed to the other side of the street before I was anywhere near them but one boy had to notice me and get inspired. He dropped his pants and mooned me from about ten yards away. Once again, I had music blaring in my ears and it was all visual only, but I wanted to tell him I wasn't interested. He seemed desperate to impress the girls he was with and a comeback like that probably wouldn't have gone over well.

I'm a big guy. I'm six feet tall and apparently have anger issues. People should leave me alone. If you're a woman, maybe you might feel more vulnerable. But don't. I see overweight women walking alone in my hood every night. No one hassles them and if they ever did, they'd have to deal with me. I'm much more capable of kicking someone's ass now that I was five months ago!

If you are worried about these kinds of rude confrontations, don't walk late at night like I do. But remember, they're harmless. And we all know these little screwhead punks will grow up to be fat, sedentary and friendless.

Give them your pity, but not your attention.

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UPDATE: I have been touched and astonished at the anecdotes friends have shared on Facebook regarding this post. Apparently I'm not alone and there are some terrible, cruel people out there. But they're mostly kids who will one day know better.

I Thought of a New Goal, A Winter Goal

My son on the slopes of Mount Pleasant

We have a huge tobogganing hill in our area of town that I have taken my son to the last couple of years since we moved here. He has a blast, everyone there does, young and old, but the hill, a former landfill, has been too much for me to climb.

I'm left standing at the bottom of the hill watching, or sitting in the car while my seven-year-old has fun. Two winters ago I resolved to get fit so that the following winter, or a winter some day down the road, I'd be able to go up the hill and toboggan with him. It never happened, however. I used to love tobogganing when I was a kid and even did it bit after high school.

I'm always going on about cycling on this blog but here's something else I forgot I wished I could do. It's something I felt bad I couldn't do with my son and something I tried and failed to address with a three month bout of treadmill exercise last year.

My wife sledding with my daughter. Why should she have all the fun?

I'm not sure what kind of sled will hold me this winter, but it'd be a thrill and a good way to get some exercise (I might have to wear my heart rate monitor because it's a big hill.) Of course I might break a leg or something too and bring to a screeching halt my efforts to get fit, but that's not likely to happen.

Not having a full range of physical abilities means not having fun like a kid. Not having fun like a kid means not being able to enjoy life to its fullest. And that's no fun.

Weight Be Damned, I Want To Be As Fit As I Can

That's my current goal.

Because that's the opposite of how I was when I scared the shit out of myself last winter. Then, for good reason, I started to realize I was physically disabled in an increasing number of ways. I owe it to every physically challenged person who ever lived to make the most of what I am lucky enough to have.

Of course, more than anything, I owe it to myself.

Yeah, I had a pretty good walk tonight.


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A Nike ad for "hardcore" runners. (YouTube)

Vices: Chips and Dip

This is the first post in a series about the foods that got me into trouble over the years. I hope to explain my relationship with these foods so I can better understand why I binged on them.

I can't remember the first time I ate chips and dip but I imagine it may have been at one of the many parties my parents and the three neighbours they had on their short street hosted. It was the seventies when I was a kid and neighbours liked to party with neighbours.

There were lots of New Year's Eve parties, wedding anniversaries and "it's a hot night, you should come over" parties. Many of them included chips and dip as the central, if not only snack. Perhaps I associate chips and dip with happiness, happy people, or, more likely, happy parents. But that's a whole other blog post, or a whole other blog. Or perhaps a book I have yet to write.

Philadelphia cream cheese dips by Kraft were all the rage. Onion was my favourite, but just about any flavour got my happy-endorphins flowing when the creamy paste hit my taste buds. A salty, fatty potato chip alone is enough to make that happen, adding a creamy high-fat dip to the mix became drug-like.

Chips and dip eventually found its way into our home on non-party occasions. It may have been used as a treat for me when I was left alone, babysat by my older brothers. Or on Christmas Day and other holidays as a family treat, often consumed mostly by me. It became my favourite "food" in the whole world.

Soon I devised ways to get this heavenly treat all by myself by taking in pop bottles for refunds or convincing my parents to buy it at the grocery store every once in a while.

Both my parents worked and my neighbours were very close to my family so I'd spend a lot of time with them. One evening, when over playing with another kid, I was treated to home-made chip dip, made with whipped cream cheese, a splash of milk and chopped onions from the garden. I had never tasted anything so good. The kid whose mother made it got to use her fingers to clean out the bowl at the end. I was envious.

This image looks to me as a favorite drink might to an alcoholic.

I quickly moved to making my own dips based on this recipe, sometimes with onion but mostly without any added flavouring. When I could get my hands on a block of cream cheese and a bag of potato chips, and had the house to myself, it was a party of one. It was an intimate, sensuous session of freedom and gluttony. I was probably only nine years old but the recipe and the habit has followed me to this day. I've even decided as recently as a couple years ago that chips and dip would make a fine meal to be consumed alone in my car in a grocery store parking lot.

I usually serve chips and dip when entertaining. In the last decade I've combined flavoured cream cheese such a chive and onion with a little milk and whipped it up with an electric mixer, sometimes adding a little sour cream or mayo. It's very good and without exception has received rave reviews from my guests. You can't go wrong serving chips and dip, I always say.

Yet I somehow rarely allowed myself to have chips and dip in the last fifteen years. If I was entertaining, that was one exception, or if I was at someone else's house. But, like Peanut Buster Parfaits at DQ and chocolate milkshakes, it was forbidden by me. Still, so many other things weren't that should have been. I'll talk about those in future posts in the coming weeks and months.

But a kid whipping up his own chip dip and consuming the whole thing by himself with a large bag of potato chips was a kid destined to be an obese adult.

John Candy and Other Dead, Overweight Celebs

Canadian comic actor John Candy

It occurred to me today that I outlived John Candy. The age that he lived to, that is.

My high school year book quotation was: "John Candy's understudy?" Not surprisingly, I was a class clown in school but I'd doubt that the writer of that quote knew what a huge fan I was of John Candy (and the cast of SCTV) or that I would one day have a bit of a comedy career myself (although not as successful, obviously, or I'd be paying someone to write this post while I got a massage.)

Quote or no quote, I, like many obese men I'm sure, identified with John Candy, felt sorry for him at times and cheered for him at others. The morning he died of a heart attack, I was off to shoot one of my first comedy bits for local TV. Everyone I worked with was talking about how shocked they were of his death. They all said it was particularly sad because, although we had never met him, we all felt like we knew him.  He was that kind of person: unassuming and accessible. And he bared his soul and his pain publicly.

John Candy died when he was 43. The peak of his weight was between 330 pounds and 369 pounds, depending on what you read.  I'm two inches shorter than him and weighed more than his highest reported weight when I was one year older than age he reached.

Mr. Candy smoked, however, but had made several attempts to get healthy and get fit. His own dad died of a heart attack at the age of 35. It's been reported that John had a sense of an inescapable fate of early death throughout his life. I can identify with that.

As a comedy fan, I felt a kinship with many of the comedians and actors who were overweight and passed away at an early age, starting with John Belushi in the 1980s. You sorta file the info away in the back of your mind and wonder if it's going to happen to you. I've never smoked but I did have a father who died too young and had his first heart attack in his forties.

John Goodman (split photo showing weight loss)

For a few days or weeks after someone like John Candy dies, you're scared. You think that you're not going to be like the person who died. You think you're going to work hard and get in shape so you can live a long, happy life. Then the urgency fades and you return to your usual harmful lifestyle.

I wish someone helped John. I wish he didn't die so young. I especially hope that science begins to better understand obesity so that professionals can more effectively help those of us suffering from this disease.

John Goodman is another obese actor I admire. I was worried for him and dreaded hearing of his passing one day. But he, somehow, lost a great deal of weight in the last couple years.

So maybe there's hope.