2007-01-15T16:01:00.000-08:00

I've been running a lot recently. I started after I had knee surgery (bad skiing accident) that left me bed ridden for a while. I had to relearn how to walk. But you can read about that in my previous post so I'll spare you the details to what led me up to that point.

So I asked the doctor, "What's the hardest sport on your knees?" Without hestitation, he said "Running." Not to be detered, I told him "I want to do that. If I had to pay 30,000 to get my knee redone, I want to make sure you did a good job." He simply smiled and told me not to start too hard. Fast forward 5 years later, and I'm running 1/2 marathons and am a race diretor for San Francisco's oldest running group. I guess whenever I want to do someting, it's all or nothing. And life deserves nothing less.

So when I run, I usually carry my Ipod. It helps me with maintaining my pace, or lets me pretend I'm running in a movie, soundtrack provided. On the days where I don't, I think about things -- work, school, life's dilemmas, and what not. I think about what I'm going to eat after I run, I think about what type of beer is my favorite at the moment, I think about which wine club I'm going to cancel and which one I'm going to sign up for... Sometimes, I even think about people I've forgotten about for many years. I want to ask them "Where life has taken you, what you've been doing all these years, and what's next on your plate?"

Running through San Francisco, and anywhere else I end up visiting, usually provides me with a vantage point and a POV that's not normally experienced whizzing by in a car. I notice lil boutique stores, antique shops, and interesting houses. I notice restaurants that I want to try (another topic for another time), shortcuts on my way to the freeway in the morning, and the interesting things people do. Sometimes, when I pass other runners, some of them smile, while others refuse to make eye contact. It always makes me wonder what's going on in their minds. On the occassion I do run with someone else, I like to talk about whatever is on their mind, or what types of things we have in common. I do run with random people almost every week because I'm in a running club. People seem to be more honest when they're running out, completely exposed to the elements, sans makeup and nice clothes to hide behind. It often makes me wonder what I look like when I'm running.

So in a nutshell, that's why I run. Maybe something in the future will change why I run, or maybe even change the sport I've chosen. But as long as I have something in which to let my mind roam free, I'll always be up for it.

2006-10-25T11:37:00.000-07:00

I've never been a fat person.

My entire life I was pretty lean, almost too lithe and svelte, and resembled a manorexic bean pole. I was never particularly competitive in sports, but did the usual: P.E., video games, a little bit of martial arts (Bruce Lee and Jean Claude Van Damme were my heroes!), baseball, and a little bit of track and field here and there. I ate decently, when I ate at all, but never had a tremendous appetite. I weighed 115 lbs in high school, and about 120 through my early 20s. I was, in essence, a skinny little nerd.

Then something happened. I took a ski vacation up to Lake Tahoe, which was nothing out of the ordinary. Only that I had decided to rent 195 cm skis. I'm 5'9", and did not ski almost 4 years prior to that, and had only used 180 cm skis. For some reason, I felt the need to show off in front of the gorgeous female companion I was with. I told the rental guy "I'll take those 195's," looking nonchalant and poised. The rental guy took one look at me and said "You must be a pro. For your height, those are pretty difficult. When's the last time you went on the slopes?"

So what did I say? I lied. I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was along the lines of "Don't worry about it, I'll be fine," not wanting to embaress myself in front of all the cute ski bunnies wandering about the store. "Okay," he said, and rang me up with a concerned look, almost as if you say "I've seen this happen before."

So this is what happened: First run of the day, I get up on the lift and decide, "What the hell, Black Diamond slope to impress my honey!" Long story short, 9AM I was on top of the world, and precisely one minute later at 9:01 AM, I was crashing down in what looked like a sports disaster highlite reel. Skis, mittens, goggles, and any loose article of clothing I had on exploded off me like Randy Johnson had just hit a bird with a 100 mph fast ball. I felt a sudden rush of pain to my right knee. At that instant, I grabbed my knee and screamed in such a high pitch voice, Mike Tyson would have been proud. From past experience from broken bones, I knew something was broken. But was there a bone in the knee area that could be broken?

Concerned skiiers on the lift yelled out "Are you alrite?" And then I lied again. "Yes! I'm fine" I said. I tried to get up, but as soon as I stood up, my right leg gave out and sent me crashing to the ground again. Valiantly, I tried another a second time, but the pain in my knee forced me to abandon the effort. Kind folks were now gathered around me and someone had positioned my skis in an "X." mark. I had been defeated and waited for ski patrol to pick me up.

What happened next was a series of hospital visits and surgical consultations. I had damaged my meniscus, tore my MCL, LCL, and unfotunately, the ACL. Having never had surgery before, I was scared. But the day under the knife came and went without much fanfare and I was ready to face the world again.

Only this time, it would be a few months while I lay in bed, trying to regain full range of motion before I could walk again. That's right, I had to relearn how to walk.

During this time, my female companion decided to take care of me. She not only nursed me and lifted my spirits, she also fed me and left vast quantities of food around me in case I got hungry. I was unable to get up and walk to the fridge, so I needed things that would not go bad: Dorritos, Cookies, and other processed foods that tasted good. Fruit? I never ate healthy before, and I wasn't about to start!

Interestingly enough, 3 months later, I was walking and moving around nicely, but the habit of eating poorly continued. Since I was more mobile, my walks consisted of trips to the freezer to devour pints of ice cream, TV dinners, instant mashed potatos, and other unhealthy foods. My weight, around the 120s, steadily climbed. A few months later, I was 140. Half a year later, I was 165. Finally, an entire 365 days later, I teetered at the brink of 185. I had gained 65 lbs in a single year! What the hell happened?!

Well, for starters, my eating habits went from bad to downright evil. My traditional Chinese diet, usually rice, vegetables and meats, turned into fast foods, little greens and fruits, and any anything fried. My portion sizes increased as well. I remember when I would go to a restaurant and simply order the largest thing on the menu, and ask my girl to order the second largest meal. I did this knowing that she would not be able to eat her portion, and hence, I would have 2 portions! Gross, huh? In retrospect, the girl that stayed with me through the times was the best companion in the world.

But I didn't care. I was happy and living large (literally). Friends I hadn't seen in a while marveleed at my size, sometimes concerned. I would simply laugh it off and run into them, sending them into the nearest inanimate object, such as a sofa, chair, or wall. People now bounced off me, much in the same way health advice bounced off my rotund belly. I lived like this for almost 18 months after the day of the accident.

Then a series of 2 part reality checks came into play. First, I visited my doctor for my yearly check up, who admonished my weight gain. He was pretty suprised, to say the least, at how much weight I had gained. "You need to lose some weight!" Then he ordered some blood tests. The results were not good. My cholesterol had shot up, my blood pressure had risen significantly, and everything else had approached borderline bad levels.

"Whatever," I said, as I walked out of his office, heading to McDonalds for large fries and a shake.

Then second and final reality check came only 1 month later. My friends and I were walking back home when we were confronted with a choice: either scale a wall as a shortcut to get home, or walk almost 1 mile around the wall. The choice was easy. Everybody scaled the wall pretty easily. Then I tried. I hopped up, but realized I was too weak to pull myself over.

"Help!" I said to my friend. I had asked this particular friend because he was manual laborer. I knew he was strong. I knew he could pull me up. I reached up with my hand and he grabbed it and pulled.

I slowly went up the wall, but then came crashing down on the ground. What the Hell? He DROPPED me?! How could this be!

"You're too heavy, I don't want to hurt my back... I guess you'll have you walk around the wall."

Right then and there it hit me. My world came crashing down as soon as my fat ass hit the ground. As I walked miserably around the wall for 20 minutes, each second seemed like an eternity. I told myself over and over "This is it."

And thus started my quest for weight loss.

I first started to modify my diet by starving myself. I ate very little and did everything the wrong way. I copied this method by mimicing the tic tac diets of a few female friends I had. And I lost weight. I went from 185 to about 150 in a matter of 3 months. I got skinny, but I still had a gut. I was skinny fat. And I had lost weight in the wrong way.

Then I started reading more about diet and the role it played. I started by reading
John Stone's story about how he lost almost 60 lbs. I started weight lifting after finding Testosterone Nation and tracking my diet and progress on Fitday. I began to toss around terms such as ectomorph and endomorph, metabolism, and caloric intake like they were rag dolls. Then I started jogging.

The lost another 5 lbs in that month. But more importantly, I added muscle, which increases metabolism. I could eat more, but remain fit and healthy. I started running more, and increased my distance from 1 mile to 5 kilometers. Then I started entering races.

And that's all she wrote for now. I will document my running progress in subsequent journal entries, but I wanted to let everybody know how it started.

So in summary, I gained 65lbs in one year and lived that way for almost 1 1/2 years. I lost 40 lbs in 4 months after I decided that was enough, but gained fitness and a healthy lifestyle. My blood tests came back spectacular, and I had a new exuberance for life.

If I can do it, so can you.

Running from fat and keeping it away!