I think anyone who has trained aggressively has at one time or another had to be horribly honest with one's self. It is painful, but great motivation and results come of such honesty.

Here's some of my feelings on this, one of those occasions. I would very much like to hear about some of yours.



The first clue that I had today that happy valley is out to take people down came from a 47-year-old, obviously living with her eyes wide open since her heart attack ten days ago, and hardly able to take in everything that her new perception delivered.

“Obese? I thought I was just a little fat, but them papers say I’m obese”

I refilled her anti-platelet, admired the outside hospital for having her on something to slow the heart, something to drop the cholesterol, and two meds to thin her blood….ah, what the Las Vegas casinos have taught us about acute coronary syndrome (and you better believe that the “do everything possible so we don’t get sued when some guy’s heart stops by the slots” is the source of our present standard of care).

The second clue came by me being at the end of a week of dirty eating, my allergies steaming and me not having a better stimulant than the five minutes after eating something caloric morbidicus now that I have ditched caffeine for good. Jojo pulled out a ham that had been in the freezer for ten months, and made powdered potatoes that were left over from my most recent climbing trip. I ate like I was from Iowa…sheesh, I wanna live here, why not eat like it every once and a dang while? When I got off the treadmill later on Jojo was strangely relieved and informed me I finally looked like myself again. I at first thought it was because I was now sweaty and hadn’t been so in a week, but she said that my face literally had lost caliper.

And its final whether or not I want it to be. I’m not of the breed that can hack this kind of living and eating. Maybe its because of the lean wheat farming stock from which my dad comes, or the faint touch of Comanche or Cherokee (can never right remember which one, I can’t) from mi mum‘s side, but try as I may to think I am capable of living happy and large, it ain’t me, and everyone with a hair of insight into my better good has seen it.

So Mom, Mike, Mark, Andy, Frank, Daniel, Jeremy, and above all Joanne: you guys were right, and I, the fat guy who pens this at an angry 12:21 a.m., was wrong.

I’ll salt diurese on the treadmill again three more times, and eat only salt absent foods for the next 36 hours. The sweat suit jogs will resume in the Iowa heat, and caffeine is on the menu.

Bad news.

I gained 40 pounds in residency. Went from a 6-foot-160 pound climber to a 6-foot-210-pound overweight middle-aged man. Something about working 120 hours a week that ruins your health. It don't come off easily at my age, either.

I wonder if moments of being consumed by self-loathing count as "brutal self-examination"?

This was me three years ago -



This is me today -



I'm almost 44 years old and can legally park in disabled zones. What exactly is your excuse again ??

peladoboton wrote:I think anyone who has trained aggressively has at one time or another had to be horribly honest with one's self. It is painful, but great motivation and results come of such honesty.

Here's some of my feelings on this, one of those occasions. I would very much like to hear about some of yours.



The first clue that I had today that happy valley is out to take people down came from a 47-year-old, obviously living with her eyes wide open since her heart attack ten days ago, and hardly able to take in everything that her new perception delivered.

“Obese? I thought I was just a little fat, but them papers say I’m obese”

I refilled her anti-platelet, admired the outside hospital for having her on something to slow the heart, something to drop the cholesterol, and two meds to thin her blood….ah, what the Las Vegas casinos have taught us about acute coronary syndrome (and you better believe that the “do everything possible so we don’t get sued when some guy’s heart stops by the slots” is the source of our present standard of care).

The second clue came by me being at the end of a week of dirty eating, my allergies steaming and me not having a better stimulant than the five minutes after eating something caloric morbidicus now that I have ditched caffeine for good. Jojo pulled out a ham that had been in the freezer for ten months, and made powdered potatoes that were left over from my most recent climbing trip. I ate like I was from Iowa…sheesh, I wanna live here, why not eat like it every once and a dang while? When I got off the treadmill later on Jojo was strangely relieved and informed me I finally looked like myself again. I at first thought it was because I was now sweaty and hadn’t been so in a week, but she said that my face literally had lost caliper.

And its final whether or not I want it to be. I’m not of the breed that can hack this kind of living and eating. Maybe its because of the lean wheat farming stock from which my dad comes, or the faint touch of Comanche or Cherokee (can never right remember which one, I can’t) from mi mum‘s side, but try as I may to think I am capable of living happy and large, it ain’t me, and everyone with a hair of insight into my better good has seen it.

So Mom, Mike, Mark, Andy, Frank, Daniel, Jeremy, and above all Joanne: you guys were right, and I, the fat guy who pens this at an angry 12:21 a.m., was wrong.

I’ll salt diurese on the treadmill again three more times, and eat only salt absent foods for the next 36 hours. The sweat suit jogs will resume in the Iowa heat, and caffeine is on the menu.

I have no idea what any of this is supposed to mean. Whatever.

DMT

I don't know how you all gain(ed) weight during residency? I lost weight when I was a resident, at least 20 pounds...

Dingus Milktoast wrote:

peladoboton wrote:I think anyone who has trained aggressively has at one time or another had to be horribly honest with one's self. It is painful, but great motivation and results come of such honesty.

Here's some of my feelings on this, one of those occasions. I would very much like to hear about some of yours.



The first clue that I had today that happy valley is out to take people down came from a 47-year-old, obviously living with her eyes wide open since her heart attack ten days ago, and hardly able to take in everything that her new perception delivered.

“Obese? I thought I was just a little fat, but them papers say I’m obese”

I refilled her anti-platelet, admired the outside hospital for having her on something to slow the heart, something to drop the cholesterol, and two meds to thin her blood….ah, what the Las Vegas casinos have taught us about acute coronary syndrome (and you better believe that the “do everything possible so we don’t get sued when some guy’s heart stops by the slots” is the source of our present standard of care).

The second clue came by me being at the end of a week of dirty eating, my allergies steaming and me not having a better stimulant than the five minutes after eating something caloric morbidicus now that I have ditched caffeine for good. Jojo pulled out a ham that had been in the freezer for ten months, and made powdered potatoes that were left over from my most recent climbing trip. I ate like I was from Iowa…sheesh, I wanna live here, why not eat like it every once and a dang while? When I got off the treadmill later on Jojo was strangely relieved and informed me I finally looked like myself again. I at first thought it was because I was now sweaty and hadn’t been so in a week, but she said that my face literally had lost caliper.

And its final whether or not I want it to be. I’m not of the breed that can hack this kind of living and eating. Maybe its because of the lean wheat farming stock from which my dad comes, or the faint touch of Comanche or Cherokee (can never right remember which one, I can’t) from mi mum‘s side, but try as I may to think I am capable of living happy and large, it ain’t me, and everyone with a hair of insight into my better good has seen it.

So Mom, Mike, Mark, Andy, Frank, Daniel, Jeremy, and above all Joanne: you guys were right, and I, the fat guy who pens this at an angry 12:21 a.m., was wrong.

I’ll salt diurese on the treadmill again three more times, and eat only salt absent foods for the next 36 hours. The sweat suit jogs will resume in the Iowa heat, and caffeine is on the menu.

I have no idea what any of this is supposed to mean. Whatever.

DMT

and a case of 30-weight ball-bearings....its all ball bearings these days....

clear it up any?

Vitaliy M wrote:Are you going through residency NOW?
When I was in nursing school I only had time to attend my class/training, and maybe work out 3-4/wk. I was into Muay Thai/boxing before that and went from 6'2 185lbs to 220lbs (but mostly muscular since I was mostly lifting weights). Now I am back down to 194lbs since I started working out for climbing/hiking in December of 2009. This is nothing however compared to when I was a junior in HS at 300lbs! (playing football, working my ass off and switching to Boxing/Muay Thai got me down to 185...)
I still eat some unhealthy foods at times, trying to cut down on it. Realizing that I have acne due to milk products helped me say no to most of the chocolate and products that contain it, which helps me to reduce pies etc. Still can't say no to some bread type sweets : ((( Work outs are ok though, climb 3xwk cardio 3-4xwk at least. Feel a lot changed in the last 6 years, even in the last 6 month; hope to see as much change in a positive direction in the next 6.
Would be nice to stay away from injuries, which is hard to do when I attempt to push myself

Thai boxing was the first inspiration in my life to really get in shape. I miss it horribly.

Yes, I am going through residency now, but nothing like the Ledge Rat's day as work hour restrictions keep us around 80 hours per week. I am lucky enough to live right by the hospital so I use the time I would have otherwise been commuting to be on training.

"I have no idea what any of this is supposed to mean. Whatever."

yeah same here.

anita wrote:"I have no idea what any of this is supposed to mean. Whatever."

yeah same here.

+1 - must be the italicized bold font that hurt my brain to read!

i've recently had to admit to myself that i am not a very good gym climber.

welle wrote:

anita wrote:"I have no idea what any of this is supposed to mean. Whatever."

yeah same here.

+1 - must be the italicized bold font that hurt my brain to read!

+2

I think I get this.

There was the time in the Army I'd handled one too many bodies and started sleeping in a body bag. Thought early death was inevitable Is this what this thread is about?

DMT and Anita...its about realizing a change has to take place in your training and life in order for better things to happen in the hills in the future.

I did like the body bag bit.

mrchad9 wrote:

welle wrote:

anita wrote:"I have no idea what any of this is supposed to mean. Whatever."

yeah same here.

+1 - must be the italicized bold font that hurt my brain to read!

+2

I read through the whole thing, but seriously, don't use those bold italics again