Inspiration and Wonder from My Time as a Personal Trainer

No, no one's hired me as a personal trainer. I decided I would help my son succeed in his first attempt at competing in an individual sport: cross country running in the Public School system. He's eight years old.

My son has always struggled physically. He's not physically handicapped but he has other emotional struggles that have limited him in the past. He has always lagged behind with his fine motor skills and is even surpassed by some things that his four-year old sister can do. As his father who loves him, I have fiercely tried to help him overcome these limitations.

He's active but not a "jock." He's not a sports-oriented kid by any means. He's played soccer and it was a struggle. Mostly he doesn't participate in the games and is overwhelmed by the whole thing, but he happened to be on three teams that won A or B-side trophies so he felt proud and happy about the experience. 

Cycling is something that got into him at an early age, long before his dad could even get on a bike, so it wasn't me who influenced him. He runs around a lot, but not for sustained periods. In fact, he used to skip or hop involuntarily after taking only a few strides while running. This slowed him down in his soccer games. His coordination has been very slow to develop but it's coming along.

Even as a fat kid I had a whole lot of fun playing unorganized sports when I was a kid. I was no jock either but I had fun. In a world where obesity seems like an unstoppable epidemic, I want to encourage my kids to embrace an active lifestyle for the rest of their lives.

I started my son training about a month or so before his first race. I put him on the treadmill at home which he's used before, but mostly because he's seen me using it. He'd walk fast and hop every few steps involuntarily. It was unnatural and a little bit concerning. He loved looking at the numbers and seeing how far and how fast he was going. That continued into our training.

I got him to jog at a speed that prevented him from hopping every few steps. The treadmill forced him to keep going in a continuous, fluid motion. His heart and lungs could more than keep up at that speed. Soon he was asking me if it was time to do his training each day. He made charts to put on the wall to track his progress and even set goals for himself. I'm so proud of him.

Quickly, the hopping disappeared and he was getting faster and faster, covering the 1.2 KM distance of the race. He started running 1.2 KM at 10 minutes and 40 seconds. As he progressed, he pushed himself further to beat his "record" times. And he did, shaving 30 seconds or more off when he tried hard. I told him that you try to shave one or two seconds off when you're doing this sort of thing but he proved me wrong time and time again.

His last training session on the treadmill came in at 6:12. When we started, I had hoped he'd get down to 7:30. In the qualifying race he came in 14th and got to go onto the final race of fifty kids. We never dreamed he'd do that well. In his final race he came in 23rd. We call him the 23 fastest eight year old in the city. Had he shaved another 20 seconds off, he'd be the fastest. It's been surreal, especially since the kid couldn't even run properly when we started.

Even now he doesn't hold his arms up in a punching like motion when he runs. Instead, he flails them around randomly. We worked on this a bit at the end and made some progress. But it illustrates how physical things don't come naturally to him.

So what have I learned?

It was an astonishingly wonderful gift to watch my son's body and technique improve the way it did in a few weeks. And it was hardly work for him. The kid barely broke a sweat. 

Even in the last week, I could see his heart and lungs getting undeniably stronger from the training he did the week before. He could do far more at the same breathing level than he did a few days earlier. An eight year old's body can repair itself and strengthen really fast. A night's sleep does the trick.

I've seen this progress in myself, measured by constant heart-rate monitoring. But to see it happen before your eyes in a person you love is beyond description.

It reinforces the notion that you are the master of your body. You can change your body and it is ready to change for you. 

Running, I hope, will be a part of my son's life until the day he dies. He needs it, not only to stay healthy physically, but for all the psychological benefits it will bring him as well.

The Incredible Lift My Podiatrist Gave Me

Many of you have applauded me for being very enthusiastic about my fitness quest. But there was a dark cloud for me. It was the pain in my lower legs/ankles (mostly from tendons, I'm told) during jogging. It happened a few minutes in and caused me discomfort that subsided a few minutes after I finished.

This was a barrier to me being all I wanted to be physically. Now, I'm over 300 pounds still, and jogging probably could have been a bit much for me, but I suspected that it was something else. The rest of my legs did fine. This part of my leg would fatigue long before the rest of my legs.

I have high arches--very high arches. You can limbo under them. They've never really been addressed, until now. I decided to take advantage of my wife's work medical coverage and seek out an opinion from a foot professional.

Right away he saw significant problems with the way I walk. Friends have been telling me that I walk funny ever since I was in high school. Shoe salespeople could do little to help me.

I got my custom orthotics yesterday. They cost me $420! My insurance will pay for most of that, but boy, that's a lot money. A computer scans the bottom of your feet. They send the data away, and in a couple of weeks you get custom insoles to put in your shoes. They last a couple of years. I plan on mine lasting a hundred years.

I took them for a jog and I couldn't believe that I for once didn't feel discomfort in my lower leg tendons. The lower legs felt as the upper parts of my legs did. My legs were getting a work out, but there was no pain. I felt like I could go on forever.

This is huge for me. It opens up the potential for me to progress physically with no boundaries. I no longer have this problem holding me back. In short, I need feel I can get as fit as I want to. My jogging time can now start increasing up to a length I'm happy with, say twenty minutes or so, for now.

I've said before that there are probably a thousand things that led to my severe obesity. Bad feet was probably one of them.

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.

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.

The Fire in My Belly

When I started this process, I think the Tanita body composition scale said I was something like 200 pounds over-weight. I had a BMI of nearly 50. I really have yet to improve upon those numbers that much. Maybe more importantly of note, I had lived an ever-deteriorating sedentary lifestyle (how could I not have with those numbers?)

Over the two years prior to the start of my change I more and more often felt disabled. It's not that I was lamenting not being able to run a marathon, but that I couldn't do normal, able-bodied person things like stand up for an extended period, for example. I began to avoid everyday, common situations that might be too physically demanding for me. A social invitation had to be analysed: Could I fit in the booth at that restaurant? Could I handle being outside in the heat at a barbecue? I was feeling less and less capable. I was concerned that I was becoming truly disabled.

A severely overweight person misses out on a lot of things. Lacking speed and agility on the playground as a kid was only the beginning of my life's problems, not to mention the social stigma of being overweight (I wonder if it's any easier nowadays since there a lot more kids with weight problems.) The one time I tried out for organized sports when I was a child, I was sent home for being too heavy. There was a weight limit on the pee-wee football team. I could give you a thousand such examples. I  won't give them all to you at once, but I'll spread some of them out in other posts over time.

A fat person grows up feeling shackled, unable to do everything that a normal (healthy) person does, unable to live life to the fullest, unable to do everything they want to. Every day growing up they are more and more conditioned into believing they are not equal to the healthy majority.

This is why there's a fire in my belly. An exercise fire. I am determined to change my body to make it the healthiest, strongest, most capable I can. And walking's just not going to cut it.

I've been told for years by medical professionals to walk. Walking is healthy and is an excellent exercise for anyone of any age and any fitness level. But it only goes so far in changing the body to make it all it can be. I yearn to be more fit.

The fire was stoked last night when I went on a bike ride with my young son through every nook and cranny of our subdivision. It was casual, it was easy and I felt like I did when I was a kid. It brought me back to moments and evenings of riding my bike when I was young and the feelings of freedom and the fun that I had. Throughout the years, and through many bicycles, I've often felt I had a special relationship with my given bike of the day that involved bonding and trust. I once again have that relationship with my bike. If that sounds hokey, you've never been a passionate cyclist.

Those around me through the years have sometimes categorized me as someone who won't grow up. A very few frustrating people have thumbed their noses at me every time I did or said something less than serious. I pity this type of serious, constrained, often joyless person. There's nothing wrong with having fun and letting your guard down as an adult. There's nothing wrong we staying young. I've been a happier person and a better person for it.

But a person with a serious weight problem frequently misses out on those good feelings for all kinds of reasons. We often feel restrictions from being socially ostracised, not being able to participate in everything that life has to offer, or simply from the mindset you develop where you think you can't or shouldn't do a lot of things because of your weight. I never allowed myself to swim in public, for example (more on that on another day.) Is there anything more fun than playing in water? I missed out on that.

My medical professionals always seem to be telling me to take it easy and concentrate on changing my lifestyle in a lasting way. They remind me to be patient. But once the shackles start coming off, you want it all. If a person confined to a wheel chair for much of his or her life could suddenly walk, I'm sure they'd want to run. And run and run! That analogy might be a little overblown, but I hope it helps you better understand how I feel.

I do worry that, like with so many other things with me, it'll be all or nothing when it comes to fitness. I fear that I might not have the time or enthusiasm some day and just stop (again.)

For now, though, my life-long profession is that of athlete. I want to become a little more fit every day and start taking back what I've missed out on. That means jogging, cycling and having access to equipment at the gym. At the core of my fitness routine will be walking, but there's so much more my body is capable of, and it's exhilarating to discover that every day.

New Shooz

Nike Air Pegasus, Livestrong (about $130 in Canada)

I decided to buy some new running shoes yesterday and, after some research, found that one of Nike's most popular runner (Air) is one of the shoes commonly recommended for someone like me who has high arches and/or is heavy. The reason these shoes are good for me is their high amount of cushioning in the heal. They happen to have been my running shoe of choice over the years but I rarely splurge on expensive runners except when I'm on a fitness kick.

But let me tell ya, it's worth it!

What a huge difference they make, especially when I'm jogging. I really noticed their benefit when I started trotting on the treadmill this morning. It seemed like gravity had been reduced slightly! (P.S.: I'm all for having gravity reduced if for no other reason than to stop the sagging.)

The difference was so noticeable that I was repeatedly surprised to see my heart rate at the top end of my training zone (85% of max.) because my lower body felt so good. It didn't feel like it was working as hard as it normally does when I jog. And my ankle pain was more or less non-existent.

I set a new personal modern day record for jogging time by doing 12 minutes on the treadmill at incline 1 (to match real-world exertion.) I felt pretty good afterwards, considering it's twice as long as I normally jog.

Today was my last workout at my clinic for some time as I wait to get my 3 year old daughter into a preschool in the fall. Hopefully when she starts somewhere in late September, I can have the time and the freedom to get back to the gym. (We have absolutely no childcare support because we have little surviving family left in town and no other options that we can afford.)

The gym at my medical clinic was made available to me to support my lifestyle changes. Some day I hope to write a nice long post about how amazing my medical clinic is and how I think everyone should have access to the services they provide free of charge.