Big Donut

Randy's in LA

A Big Donut. 

I do not have a sweet tooth, let’s get that out of the way. I never feel an overwhelming desire for sugar. I own no chocolate Jones. I do not use processed pure cane-sugar in my coffee, on my granola or muesli, or for baking. The closest I come to satisfying that crave is by pressing a ribbon of honey onto the peanut butter that rests atop a slab of toast. This ritual takes place, usually, around noon each day. NOON?

Yes. I subscribe to the intermittent fasting protocol, a self-guided daily tour through the sensations normally associated with ’feeling hungry.’ I started this several years ago, and now it is habit. Three days per week I work out twice before the toast reward. For whatever odd reason, the discipline required to execute this effort/reward combo satisfies a part of me that insists upon it. I do not fully understand enough about the specific part, but I do recognize the value in the approach. I will continue to experiment with the combinations until it becomes obvious that one way offers more value than the others. It is the same approach I took with a plant based diet, carbs, paleo and 40/30/30. Testing is training and training is testing. See what works. 

There are a few caveats that separates my personal experiment of one and all the others, including yours. In my case there are three main facts that make this such an interesting test. They are:

1) I am three short years from the celebration of my seventh decade on this planet.

2) I have chronic atrial fibrillation and carry a pacemaker wherever I go.

3) In a cosmic joke of sorts, items 1 & 2 have brought great financial strain. 

All meaning, as love is the sum of all emotions, that I must find a clever, perhaps even elegant way to negotiate the modern day realities of health care, preventative maintenance and even housing. A real job is something that I haven’t held for ten years. I may have a fixed income, but there is nothing set in concrete when it comes to assuming responsibility for my own health and fitness. That, despite the degree of difficulty, is on me. I own it. It my be hard, frustrating, aggravating and outrageously expensive, but my secret, if we can call it that, is to never say die. Keep trying, keep moving and keep smiling through the process. As Samuel L might say, Semper Fi motherfucker. 

The diet to exercise ratio is one of the most important, up there with mind to body and body to spirit. Anything we can do, anything I can do to push the effort to reward quotient forward is a major win. And I will take three or four of them, actually as many as I can fit, into every day. Eat something good, healthy, local and organic. Do another set of hill repeats. Use the new pool to swim laps and gauge the extent of shoulder damage. Sit in quiet meditation. My ‘A’ race is now less than a month away. Drop that final five pounds so that even matched with muscle loss there is less mass to move. 

And be aware of everything along the path. The good as well as the not-so good. Appreciate the basic reality that you are still in the race. The rats have all given up, caught by the fast cats. From this point onward, to the finish, it is you versus you. It is crucial that this leg of the journey by completed with grace and elan, with joy and gumption, with gratitude and forgiveness, with laughter and respect.

Go ahead have a donut (cause things change.)