A matter of results...

AS time moves on there will be more on and more focus on the results of my exploits.  Because my exploits are producing results.  Gabe got back after being gone for two weeks today and asked me how much weight i have lost!  Even though the answer is little to none, the point is we are seeing results.  The weight is redistributing itself.  You can't walk as much as I have walked and swam as much as I have swam and not get some results.  You can't.  I am dealing with my personal shit.  I am taking on my demons head on.  That is still a work in process.  We will continue documenting my life change here.  However, I think we have to take stock in results we are getting.

Speaking of results.  RG is back home and not only that she went to Tri training on Saturday and swam.  Her life will never be same as it was before she went into the hospital.  However, not even a week out of the hospital I was amazed by how active she has been.

So, one of the things her and did this weekend was start doing those nasty little house projects that you never want to do.  I dove into my my clothes, drawers, and closet on this weekend.  Then when i went out walking she dove into her closet and bathroom.

Then on Saturday afternoon we started on organizing the kitchen.  Like so many things once you start going done a path, it gets very dark and dirty very quickly.    Being a life long bachelor I had accumulated a lot of shit.  I had plates, knifes, forks, and spoons from two or three different couples.  I still had the first can opener I ever bought and it was rusted and nasty but it was mine.  We tossed it.  We tossed most of this shit.  Like the first hand towels I bought in the summer of 1999.  We got midevil on the kitchen.  RG even made me throw out my first grill burger flipper because it was rusty.  That thing was old, really old.  I might have moved to California with it.  I will miss Rusty.  There was nothing sacred.  We even went through the first cabinent in the garage and found out that I had gatoraide which expired in 2012.  I had coke that expired in 2013.  Basically, we tossed out a lot of shit. 

Cleaning and organizing is hard work.  We spent hours in the kitchen.  We spent hours on our feet.  Well I did.  RG spent most of her time on a chair, but not sitting on it, but standing on it.  We had to get to those hard to reach places.  I am very happy how the kitchen looks!  I am even more proud that RG and I did it together.  It was the first step on the path to a healthier happier life!!!!

P.s.     Ths is a good looking Cow!!!!!

How do you follow up a great walk? You do a great swim!!!

I am exhausted.  Really I am.  I never knew cleaning out every square inch of the kitchen could be that hard of work and there was a trio of us working on it.  Well, Shiner is more of our mascot.  She just lays there and watches me and RG do all the work, which is funny, because a lot of the time I lay with Shiner and I to watch RG do all the work.   Does that make me a mascot?  I don't know.  The truth is that any day where I spend more time on my legs is hard work for me.  I mean after all, I am a big dude right.  So standing is effort.  Cleaning is effort.  So standing and cleaning really suck.  It doesn't help that my legs were really tired from yesterdays walk either.  It was hard and I pushed myself really, really hard.   I think I already told you about that.

I actually feel a little guilty right now because I am sitting at the computer and getting ready to go back into the kitchen to finish the cleaning.  I know I should be out there walking.  I also know that I need to find balance.  Let's not kid ourselves.  I am walking for two.  I am cleaning for two, and I am swimming for two.  So, lets just take this one day at a time.  I have nothing to feel bad about.  I just got back from a 51 minute swim, in which I really pushed myself hard.  I know because I was sucking for air on each end of the pool and on the way to each end of the pool.  That doesn't happen when I am in complacent, let's just move our body a little bit mode.

I have been pushing.  So I followed up my great walk yesterday with a great swim today. I swam 1300 yards in 51 minutes.   That isn't to bad, not to bad at all.  That is 100 more yards than last weekend in the same time.  I did a decent set:

- 100 Easy Swim
- 12 x 25 - alternating free and boob each length of the pool.
- 2 x 100 Free @ hard pace
- 50 Boob
- 2 x 100 Free Kick @ hard pace
- 400 Free pull (fuck it hurt, my arms are dead)
- 50 Boob - easy

Not a bad set at all.  I have to get to the pool more this week, but I have to balance it with my walking.  I want to work out two hours a day.  I just wonder if I have the energy for it.  I mean i am not going to lie I am pushing really hard and have been pretty tired lately.

I don't know what the right answer is.  All, I can do is keep on keeping on.   Keep moving forward.  Keep making each day of my life matter.  Trying to be the best Billy b I can be.

Have a great evening, hope you weekend was as good and productive as mine and lets kick some ass going into another week!

19:30 after three days off....

"Do you I sweat to much, when I can take my head band off and ring it out and I leave a puddle of waste behind?"  I have always sweated a lot.  I have the honor of being the second sweetest walker Coach JC has ever had the pleasure of coaching!  I where it like a badge of honor.  For me sweat is everything.  I went and worked out and didn't sweat no matter how hard I worked I wouldn't feel like I did anything.

Ive been off for three days and I know that is bad.  The first day I was off because I worked till past 10.  I have been good at walking late, but when you work in Pleasanton and live in San Jose, there has to be limits, especially when there is a doggy pup at home that hasn't been fed.  Thank the light RG had been home to walk her in the mid day.

The 2nd day is because I and to get Fancy and go to the Ruby Hill Golf Club.  Very Fancy, in deed.  There was good food, drinks, I got blanked 15 - 0 in Bocce.

Finally, Friday, I have no excuse.  I came home to change to go to the pool.  I laid down with the puppy.  I stared talking to a friend and well the rest is history.  Doggy Pup and I got a big surprise last night when RG finally came back home.  IT did ruin our plans of having a hookers and cocaine party, but hey we can win them all.  It is nice to have our roommate home.

I went out just after 5 for 50 minutes today.  It was still really hot.  However, I pushed through it.  I was wheezing then entire time and right at the 45 minute mark I boinked.  So I went nay 2.55 miles.  However, I was able to maintain an average under 20 minutes.  Actually over the 40 minute main set, i walked a 19:11 minute mile.  That is getting pretty good.  I know it is 16 or bust come January, but we have to start some where.  We are 7 months away from the event.  It is going to be hard, but we are going to bring this down slowly.

The log tell me since April we have walked almost 90 miles and walked for over 31 hours.  Apparently i have burned 40066 Kcals as well.  I have no idea what that means, but there you have it.

I even tried out my new porkins shirt today.  Pretty fly right.... Am I porkins or the great pumping you decide.  The sweat marks are pretty hot right....

I have had a lot of good conversations this week.... I am going to call out two friends who were awesome this week, Gabrielle Elise and Kelly Ray thank you both for letting me bend your ear.  I didn't get to see Sweet Sue this week and you guys rallied to me when I was down.  I appreciate that more than you will no.

this fight isn't over.  I used last week.  I fell.  However, I know why i did it.  The only thing you can do when you fall is stand up again and keep going.  I haven't quit.  So don't quit on me.  I know so many people have. I know its easy to say just eat better and do it.  Its not that simple.  If it was their wouldn't be a billion dollar diet industry.  I am finding my path.  I see what i am afraid of now and I choose to face it. Head on.  I can't be scared anymore.  It is time to rise.

The Issue with Jock Itch

 

You have to know when you read the title that Billy b really is the open book he wants to be and he should close it a little bit for all of our sakes or that shenanigans have or will be ensued.  All I can say is that you have read and you tell me what you think.    Or read and keep your fucking mouth shut because at the end of the day if I truly wanted your opine I would ask.  Or just laugh a little or laugh a lot. 

I will say one fundamental truth.  A truth we all know.  A truth we all live with.  It is a truth that is plan as the nose on your face.  Fungus is not Fun! 

Don’t believe me, there is even a website to that extent: http://www.fungusisntfun.com/

Don’t like that one try this one: http://www.peoplespharmacy.com/2012/06/28/fighting-foot-fungus-isnt-fun/

The fact doesn’t change, fungus isn’t fun!

According to statistics gathered by Lamisil and Exos Knowledge 15% of the general population have what I call the itch?  8% of all swimmers get the itch.  Even worse are 20% of all males over the age 16 will have the itch at one point or another in their life?  If you think recovering from an eating disorder sucks, its nothing compared to that itching, burning, feeling you get in places you would rather not blog about. 

I have had the itch on and off for as long as I can remember.  It was contracted and thus my long and painful battled with Athletes foot began.  Look I know fungus isn’t a cool blog topic, but sometimes you have to be full disclosure.  Yes, my name is Billy b and I have athlete’s foot, a.k.a. the itch.  Now most people when referring to the itch mean the poison ivy.  Which is an itch of a different kind all together?  However, since I have not had Poison Ivy since I was 22 we are not going to talk about it.  Who can forget that?  I was at the Roach Motel in Bloomington, the last night of my 4^th year of school.  I come across this lovely chic who I always had a crush on and all I could think about talking to her about was “Hey, I have poison ivy.” Yes, Billy b who was 22 that is gonna get you the hook up every time.  FAIL.  So let’s not get started on the Midwestern Itch or the Outdoor Itch.   Because we are talking about the Athletes Feet and that is much better after all. 

After years of being Itch free I went on a swimming binge last Q4.  I swam, and I swam, and I think I swam a little bit more.  Then one fateful night, I must have forgotten my flip flops and I still had to shower, b/c you need a hot shower after swimming in 40 degree weather and BAM, the itch was back.  It has been hiding between my pinky toe and the 4^th toe.  It comes and goes and goes and comes and it hurts big big.  It burns.  It scratches.  It itches.  So bad in fact that I scratched and scratched on Saturday night until I fucking bled.  Yes, I bled.  It was bad.

So, then lets rewind to last Sunday.  I sprung RG from the hospital.  We had to go to Walgreens, which I am convinced, now more than ever is the Circus Circus of the Pharmacy world.   She was getting her meds.  I was like fuck my toes still really hurt.  I need to treat this shit and my lotion just isn’t doing the trick.  So, I look and look for the itch spray.  I see everything else from powder to Jock Itch to fucking hemroid cream and back again, but nowhere did I see athlete foots spray or even cream.   That is when I did something very unmanly.  I went and asked the pharmacist.  At this point RG is sitting down and waiting for her RX and I am thankful because this where shit gets a little weird, or at least at the time I was. 

The pharmacist tells me it on the back wall.  In the foot section right between the Powder and the Roid cream it should be sitting there.  So I waltz back over there and I come face to face with the usual names:  LAmasil, Lotrim, fast acting tinactin, gold balm powder, Micatin.  You name it the name was there, but they all read JOCK ITCH.  I didn’t have Jock itch.  I don’t think I have ever had the Jock itch.  And on the scale of fungi Jock itch sounds a lot worse in my mind than Athletes foot.  No idea why.  However, admit it, it does in your mind too.  Admit it, damn u!  Because it does I will prove it. 

So, I go back to the lady and ask here where is the Athletes foot stuff.  She walks me out.  She walks me over to exactly where she said and points to the Jock Itch spray.  There it is she says.  I am like but that is Jock Itch.  I don’t have Jock Itch.  Oh no she says it is all fungi fighting stuff and the basic fungus is the same, so the formula is the same.  It is just a marketing thing by the drug companies.  I am standing thinking WHO IN THE FUCK ARE THESE MARKETERS because they are worse than the people who came up with New Coke and calling Pizza Hut just the HUT.  There only one mother fucking Hutt and it is Jabba the Hutt, so fuck you Pizza Hut. 

So, I let her walk away.  I stand there and debate with myself on whether or not I am actually going to buy a Jock Itch spray.  I am telling you it just makes people look at you differently. 

It started with the cashier.  He did a double take.  He literally, looked at the can.  Then looked and me and then back down.  However, his face said it all.  Oh dude I am sorry you have the Jock Itch, I wouldn’t want to be you.  So I am trying to hide this thing canister of JOCK ITCH Spray and not let anyone else see that I have it.  Because I am dude right, and I don’t have no purse and what most people don’t understand about California is you have to pay for bags now, so I don’t got no bag for my Jock Itch spray.  However, I have to get in the car.  So, it’s hard enough for me to get in a car when I don’t have a spray can in my hand, so without thinking, I had the can to my roommate as I slide into the car and when I seat belt up she practically throws the canister at me as if I had actually handed her jock itch and not a can that said it.  He eyes were hug and she was like um Billy b is there something you want to explain here?  So I tried to explain to her what the pharmacist told me.  Although she said ya all fungus is the same, her eyes told a different story.  She was judging me.  Her eyes said it all, you need to shower more often you dirty bastard and get some fucking compression shorts.  I could only shake my head and put the car in drive and go home in shame.

So I marched in the house and without thinking put my canister of jock itch spray on the coffee table.  No wonder shortly after my roommate left to stay at her aunts for a week or so.  I go and look up:  Lamasil, Lotrim, fast acting tinactin, gold balm powder, Micatin and guess what they all still sell Athlete’s foot spray.  I told you Walgreens was the Circus Circus of fucking drug stores.  Fuckers!!!! 

However, the next night things got even worse.  I needed help with my bed.  So, I do what I do I called the Hector over.  I never thought he would bring his lady over as well.  You have to remember Hector isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.  The opposite actually, and I am pretty sure that Shiner might be able to outwit him.  So, I realize the canister is still sitting and I try to move it.  And he blurts out Oh ya, I saw that so you have JOCK ITCH, that’s messed up.  All I could do was hang my head in shame.  I mean was it even worth trying to explain.   I just started laughing and laughing and laughing!!!!  What else can you do when everything things you have Jock Itch!

 

The Fix

The Fix

It's crippling.  It's a need not based in rational thought.  But it's a need.  It's a need he can't deny anymore than he could stop himself from breathing, or his heart from beating.  It becomes an involuntary reflex to any situation that creates stress.  God knows there has been enough stress over the last week and a half. However he would be lying of he said he only did it in times of stress.  He does it in times of pure joy and happiness as well.  He does after all celebrate his victories just like his defeats.

He looks around him and he feels the wheels coming off.  It's all falling apart.  He has been asleep at the wheel.  He had no idea just how dark and dank the rabbit hole could be.  It's closing in on him, waiting to catch him.  

His chest hurts again.  He is tired.  So fucking tired.  His head starts to hurt and of course it must be a stroke or heart attack.  The same thing that has always ailed him.

He is feels alone even though he is not.  He can never truly be alone as long as the need is there.  Because there is always the need.  There is always the excuse it will be this one last time.  Because the need means something to him.   Why is his need to use more powerful than his need to survive? 

It's like a dream he can't wake up from, but unlike the messages from the subconscious, this he can control, but he doesn't, because it what he knows.  There is comfort in what you know.  If your beating yourself up over your need, then how can you possible climb out if the rabbit hole?   We call it the comfort in being sad.  It's strange but to stay is so much easier than to move on.  So why keep pushing your way thru the muck, why not feel the need and pretend you don't understand.  

The fix is the easiest and most natural thing he does.  It's easy to stop at a drive thru after a shitty few days in the office and order a burger, or three.  It's easy to eat it.  Fixing is always easy.  It grants you this fucked up high and for a split second all else stops in the world.  There is no need to worry about the trim that fell off your car.  The CPA license that your keep forgetting to send off.  The dog will be fine for another 45 minutes.  It will all be ok, because all you can do is live in that moment eating that crap.  You've lost count if how many nights you've fixed now.  And you've lost count if how many nights this would be the lady time.  After all it's easy, it's simple.  Just dot eat.  Make better choices.  Starve yourself.  It's all fine.  Everyone knows what's best for you.   You just don't follow directions.

Or maybe your terrified because for the first time in your life everything is clear.  Everything is real.  There are no more do overs or second chances.  You can be a monster, you can also be a hero.  You are good, but can also be bad.  You hate being an accountant.  Despise it even.  You grew up with issues, but we all do.  Your insecure, welcome to the human condition.  You know that everything you want is there for the taking.  Everything you want is at hand.  It is fucking terrifying because you might actually have to live again and living can be beautiful but it can so hurt.  The comfort of being sad doesn't hurt because your to bust beating your self up to see anything else, to feel anything else.  Sad is easy.  Sad is safe.  Sad is hiding just your had in the rabbit hole but keeping your eyes shut. So you are scared of accepting you have been asleep at the wheel.   Your scared of moving on.  Your tired of trying to make sense of something that doesn't make sense.  

So, you sleep walk thru office.  Your sleep walk thru the parking lot.  You read your email and it's upsetting all over again.  You look at your FB nothing.  Your personal account nothing.  So you squeeze in your car, and you drive with purpose to the first place you can get a fix and you do just that.  You use.  You fail.  You let yourself down because you know in your heart falling and failing is the only thing you do consistently.  So you fix to make it better, when you know it just makes it worse.  You've tossed gas I to a fire and you just can't stop yourself.  No that's not right, you don't want to.   Because using is easy.  Guilt is easy.  It takes away from the loneliness.  It takes away from the monotony that has become your everyday life and your career.  Use because using is ok.  Using makes it easier because that's an excuse and issue you can admit.  The others aren't so easy.  The others make you want to hold back.  The other might make you want to cry.  So fix and be done with it.  Fix so you don't have to accept what you know to be true.  Fix because there is some sick comfort in being true to your nature.  Fix because it's just to hard not to.  Fix because it's easier to fail.  Fix because maybe your just to broken to fix.  

The Death Clock

 

It wasn’t until Sunday night after my turn around that I really remembered why I prefer the Game of Triathlon to Half Marathon, it is one simple little factor and it is probably not what you think.  It isn’t just the love of the pool.  You have to know by this point that I love the pool.  I love the pool perhaps more than I love anything else in live.  I mean I am part Black Fish and my natural habitat is the water.  However, it isn’t that.

It certainly isn’t the bike.  No, as a matter of fact the bike is my least favorite sport at this time.  I think it is because my Fuji bike tries to anally rape me every time I get on it.  Its gravity man and I have to admit that I am very gravitationally challenged.  I have a lot of mass and gravity pulls down on me really hard.  Therefore tiny seat, big seat, it don’t matter it tries to go to some place it should never go and it is very uncomfortable.  I will get back the bike and it won’t hurt as bad.  That is a goal.  We will get there. So it isn’t the bike either.

Walking is walking.  So, whether it is training for a half or a 10k or even a 5k it matters not.  The walking is what it is.  Give me a pair of shoes and I will walk. 

The truth is until Sunday night I had forgotten about it.  Then it exploded into my mind: TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….  A monkey from my half marathon days was back. It was the return of the Death Clock. 

The Death Clock is a voice in my head that tells me to push and push hard.  It reminds me to keep going.  It tells me to move.  It tells me that I am a slacker and I am not trying hard enough.  It tells me I will never get to what I need to be, and the entire time it says TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….

I can’t tell you how many times that clock has put me into the bit me zone.  Ever wonder why I have a smile on my face the entire time I am on a triathlon course?  It is simple it is because I am there only to have fun.  Fast or slow, it doesn’t matter, I am the underdog out there and just being out there makes me amazing.  When it comes to ½ marathon training I don’t feel the same way.  I feel an undying need to push myself.  Push and push hard.  TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….

It is the Yin and Yang of my nature.  I need to push hard.  I need that in my life.  I am not going to get healthier if I don’t push myself.  I know that.  I have to push.  I need to push, but that fucking clock drives me nuts.  TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….

I am not complaining about the clock being back.  That isn’t the point of this.  I am not complaining because I want to get better.  I have to get faster.  I need to push.  I want to.  I know it.  That is fine.  However, I am also scared.  TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….

After all what am I afraid of?  It’s only rock n’ roll.  I am scared of getting to a 16 minute mile.  However, I am more afraid of breaking the streak, four days this month under a twenty minute mile, but I am working my ass off to get there.  Is it sustainable?  Can I maintain?  I am not recovering.  I am still exhausted, but is that body or mind?  I want to maintain a strong pace.  I have to 16 minutes miles is a long way away, and every day I start thinking about the death clock TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….

I know there is a balance at some point in my mind.  Some place where there is serenity.  I just need to find it.  I have to understand walking for a time, is like my weight loss, and getting my life in order.  It is a series of ups and downs, strikes and gutters.  I won’t always make my time, however I am working towards it.  I have to be ok with the failure.  I have to be ok with not making it and celebrate those walks just as much as I celebrate the ones where I do make it. TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….

This like everything else I am doing eating better, taking care of myself, putting me first, learning to like myself, and getting healthy, walking is a process.  It won’t always go my way.  However, I have to be prepared to fight the good fight.  I can’t worry about the count down in my head.  I won’t stop.  It doesn’t.  I just have to be prepared to do the best I can.  If I can do that, then if I am not as awesome as I should be, I can still move forward.  I don’t want to set up myself up for failure.  My mind is powerful.  I know that.  If I don’t work as hard as I should will I binge?  Worse if I work harder than I excepted will I binge?  TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK….

So much shit going on in my life.  Last week was rough.  I am exhausted.  However, I will keep on keeping on because I know I am on the path.  That is all we can ask for.  TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK, TICK…. And tell the fucking clock to shut the fuck up…

 

some days....

some days you just don't have it.  you can't but two or three sentences together to express what is going on in your mind.  your tired.  really tired.  it is the dog woke me up at 4 a.m. b/c she thought it was time for breakfast, but it wasn't, then when I got back in bed the wheel on my bed frame popped off and made my bed lopsided tired.  that isn't a joke.  that is what happened to me last night at 4 a.m.  it was one of those rare times when I just went with it and followed the dog out to the living room without looking at my phone.  I honestly thought it was gonna be a pee, but when went and just sat next to her bowl, looked at the bag of iams and the looked back there was no mistaking her intent.  you walk back in your bedroom and she finally comes back in.   I am the only one who gets to eat around here at 4 a.m.  and I try really hard not to do that.  So go and kneel on my bed and i hear a crack, a bang, and boom and feel the bed go down a notch and I am like or fuck my mother fucking life, are you fucking kidding me right now.  I am not.  so its a big bed.  I can't move it on my own and there was dog on it, so i say fuck it and I jump back in and sleep lopsided for the next 4 hours.  so... i am tired.  real tired.

i have to say one thing though.  i am also a little proud of myself.  i kicked ass last night on the walk I didn't want to do.  I had one segment where I did a 17 miles per minute time.  It was only a quarter mile, but hey, i did it.  i was beat before I went out, but I didn't let that stop me.  which is good.  i have been pushing myself really hard again.  I am swimming and walking.

2014 is my year... and I am going to do it....

ok... since this blog sucks and I am not saying anything of importance I will sign off now....