Unleashing The Warrior Within

Inside all of us is an ideal person, a being of light and spirit awaiting the actions on our part to be fully realized. Most of us, however, never reach this point. We get potholed by our insecurities, the cares and worries of life, the burdens other people try to impose upon us.

I've carried those burdens too long. I've tried to live up to the expectations of others, only to fall short of my own expectations for myself. I've wasted far too much time trying to play the game, knowing all along that it was rigged in the house's favor.

No more.

I am at the cusp of becoming the man I want to be--the man I need to be. Because someone else has been wearing my skin for a while now, and I'm not putting up with that anymore.

I was reminded tonight during my workout just how much I missed it. I'm up to four sets of eight different exercises, developing all parts of the body. Thursday night I'll attempt to run again. My health is important to me, but more important still is my self-image. I don't like what I've allowed myself to become, so I take on the struggle within.

If I don't lose the weight, I die early. If I don't adjust my attitude and my self-image, I'll die well before the actual funeral. I've seen a lot of people die that way. Worse yet, I've seen people attempt to destroy others that way all too often.

A friend of mine was subjected to that form of cruelty this week. This is a man who has in recent years lost his wife, and is struggling to raise his daughter on his own. He is starting to find himself again after this tragedy, but still needs to vent. We all need to vent, but to have someone else fueled by Internet courage and with no inkling of how much all of us carry inside attempt to shoot him down was sickening to me. I've lost too many people at too young an age (my brother and five close friends dead before I was 25--and four of those were suicides) to wish that upon anyone but damn was the temptation there to wish it on this clown who confused grieving with personal weakness! But I didn't. I want to be the better man.

Much closer to home I see my wife, and how much she struggles from day to day with the kids. I try to help out as much as possible--I am their father, after all, and they need me. Enough said there. I also see how she struggles trying to make things better for the people around her, only to go unacknowledged and unappreciated, even insulted. I take great personal offense to this. I am more than willing to break a few heads on her behalf--I nearly have, on at least two occasions. I would be nowhere near my goals were it not for Sandy, and I want to make sure I give her my all as well.

It is a painful realization that there are still bullies out there in adult life, that some people never grew out of that phase. I've always known this. Much of the impetus for me to become a union steward years ago was a desire to combat such bullies in the workplace. They definitely existed, with about the maturity level one would expect. Thankfully karma has been paid in full measure to all of them now, and in a few cases I was privileged enough to not only watch but play a role.

The workplace, however, is governed by rules, with mechanisms to ensure they are enforced (imperfectly though they may be). Everyday life is a different question. And honestly, I've seen enough douchebags over the past five years to more than stock the local pharmacy. One only missed a civil restraining order because we didn't have the filing fee at the time!

But worst of all are the bullies I carry in my own mind, the ones who fuel self-doubt and hesitation on my part. The ones that whisper in the night: You're a failure. You're not good enough. You're only wanted because no one else was left. You are continually mocked behind your back and will be forgotten as soon you're gone, provided anyone noticed you were there to begin with.

How do you fight a battle against an opponent inside your own mind?

The answer is simple: prove him wrong! Make yourself better, physically, mentally, and spiritually. And that's what I'm doing right now. I may have been knocked down, but I'm getting back up again! Fall down seven times, stand up eight!

Deeper than my conscious thoughts, deeper even than those whispers in the night, is the man God intended me to be. A true warrior, a man of strength, courage, and honor in every arena of life. He may not be the strongest, or the smartest, or necessarily the most virtuous, but he's certainly going to scare the living crap out of anyone counting on the old me to back down.  Especially those voices within!

More later...

Seeing David In The Stone

"Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it." -- Michaelangelo

I continue my weight training, interspersed with my walking regimen. Tonight I added French curls (an exercise I've always found difficult) to the mix. An extra exercise meant fewer reps, however. I need to get used to this.

It's my hope to find the statue that is the ideal me beneath all of the sloppiness that's accumulated over the years. I don't just mean physical sloppiness. I mean mental and moral sloppiness as well.

I am currently involved in the Federal Executive Board Leadership Associates Program, an intensive year-long series of activities intended to develop mid-level government employees myself into executive material. As I intend to be around for a while, I'd like to get as far as possible. The current class has only been running since June, but already I've gotten a lot out of it. Part of my current interest in working out, for example, is a side project to encourage greater physical fitness among federal employees. Another employee at my agency started a team, and being the competitive person I am, I decided to join.

This is one way my competitive nature is helping me. I can see also where it has hurt me, and hurt others, badly. It is a double-edged sword for sure!

Back to the leadership program. This week we had a course in conflict management. Using the assessmetn tool, I discovered that I have a lot of work to do. I have a tendency to want to try and win arguments, even if there's no point in doing so beyond being able to say I'm right. For certain lines of work, this is a good thing. In every day life, this is a very bad thing. I have alienated who knows how many people because of it. I'm not proud of this. I am sure that there are more than a few people who can attest to this. If you're out there and reading this, please accept my apologies, know that I see the problem, and that I'm working on it.

It is such a relief to let go of conflicts, and to recognize troll bait when I see it! No longer am I bound by that invisible hand that seemed to force me to constantly be on the lookout for the epistemological knife fights I so often find myself involved in! My karate instructor back in the distant past always told me that the best move in a fight is to turn around and walk away. If only I'd applied that wisdom to the pseudo-intellectual posturing I see around me--and not get sucked into it myself--I'm sure I would have been much happier overall!

It's more than winning arguments, though. It's wanting to win at life, with 'winning' poorly defined. In college it wasn't enough just to have good grades, I had to have a girlfriend too. And by 'have' I mean 'be the only thing going on for her'. I don't think I was as big a douchebag as that statement implies (there are at least two women out there who could confirm this--or not) but I can see where a lot of my behavior wasn't what it should have been, or even anywhere close. And for that, I am truly sorry. To any male between the ages of 17 and 22 reading this (including my son in about 10 years): I've seen some of you do the same crap. You cannot simultaneously put a woman on a pedestal and chain her like a slave. In fact, you shouldn't do either one. Make and keep a friend--an equal partner--and what you want is more likely to show up on its own. Not guaranteed (nothing is!) but more likely. And that is Uncle Steve's Pearl of Wisdom for the night. :-)

This desire to be ahead of the game at all costs isn't all bad--academically it's been a tremendous asset, and my career hasn't suffered either (although I will emphasize that to my knowledge I've never stabbed anyone in the back on the way up). But when wed to faulty assumptions it is yet another layer of stone that must be removed to get to the ideal form beneath.

Why am I competing? What is there to be gained? How will my competitive nature help or hurt others? What will it do to myself in long run? I need to start answering these questions more consistently.

Because while I'm cutting through the physical flab to reach the ideal person inside, I also need to cut through the mental and moral flab to reach  what that person should be like. And I cannot do that unless I'm honest with myself. "Let him that would move the world first move himself."

Time to put away the past. The other thing the assessment tool told me was that I tend to dwell on problems too much. The problem's solved--I'm not who I used to be, and cannot change what that person did. I can only hope for forgiveness, and do what I can to improve. And that's the real competition: the one within!

The Long Hot Summer

I've been away for a while, I know. But I'm back to stay!

Since ending the medically supervised portion of the weight loss program, just about everything that could go wrong, has gone wrong. I've faced a number of personal and professional challenges these past few months that have caused me to revert to old habits.

First to go was the exercise. After my last long run of 2.8 miles I stopped for some reason. It got too easy to rationalize not running again--too tired/too hot/too much to do/too many other excuses to count.

Next to go was diet discipline. Back in June my mother was hospitalized for several days (thankfully, she's doing better now). I fell back into my old habit of stress eating. A number of other events happened at home and at work to compound the stress. On top of that, I had chosen this summer to take three classes instead of two to knock a year off my Masters degree. Two of my classes involved heavy math and were taught by instructors whose notes were minimal at best (one class didn't even have an official textbook!) Between the rigor of the courses themselves and losing time while Mom was in the hospital, I spent most of the summer term catching up. I managed A's in two of the courses and a B in the third...but getting there was much, much harder than I anticipated. And a lot of stress eating was involved.

I accept that there's stress in life. That's an inherent part of existence. Someone whose life is completely stress free is either not truly living or completely oblivious to his or her situation. As with so many other things, however, it all hit at once. My faith has been challenged and restored repeatedly over the past three months. My sanity? Sometimes I wonder.

But no more. With but one exception (which I can do nothing about but wait) most of the stressors have been resolved. Now it's time to focus on building myself back to the person I know I can be. I started that in earnest tonight.

With Sandy absent much of the evening, a run was out of the question. So I went to my old standby: the weight bench. Weightlifting has always been special to me: it's one athletic activity I've been able to remain reasonably competent at, even excel. For two years during my undergraduate years I took gym classes every quarter to build exercise into my routine (as if working as a cook and a janitor, and walking nearly everywhere, wasn't enough!)  The weight training was something I'd started in high school but it took off in college. If I'd kept up with it, who knows where I'd be now?

Of course, I'm not powerlifting like I was 20 years ago: my right shoulder and my back reminded me tonight that I'm 44, not 22 even with the relatively light workout (low weight/high reps) I took on:

3 sets/25 reps each:
Bench press at 25 lbs
Military press at 25 pounds
Curls at 25 pounds
Dead lift at 25 pounds

The objective of low weight/high reps is to develop muscle tone and endurance as opposed to instantaneous power. It's also (contrary to popular belief) one hell of a good cardiovascular workout: think calisthenics with a positive load applied to every part of the body. I also attempted knee extensions but the weight bench I have isn't made very well for that. I may settle for running/cycling to develop my legs. I can get new running shoes much cheaper than a new weight bench, and I need new shoes anyway.

It felt good! Just the act of putting on my old lifting gloves caused a bit of a surge in me, as though I were Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone. I still feel a little tight even after my shower, and probably will feel much tighter tomorrow...but that's a good thing. Muscles need to be challenged in order to develop. Tomorrow I'll run again, then Wednesday night (Sandy's bowling night) I'll hit the weights after the kids are in bed.

Why am I suddenly back in the saddle again? Two reasons. One I'll explain in more detail tomorrow night. The other? Let's just say that it's better to be in control of one's circumstances rather than the other way around. There are relatively few things I can change in my life as it is, but that's no excuse not to address the things I can. And my health--and general well-being--is one of those things.

Week 15: The End Of The Beginning

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." -- Winston Churchill, November 10, 1942

Last week's number: 306.4 pounds
This week's number: 300.7 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 5.7 pounds
Net loss: 49.3 pounds

In other words, I'm not done yet...

This was my last formal weigh-in under the medically-supervised very low calorie diet. I will now be transitioning slowly back to normal food. By normal food I mean the food people are supposed to eat, as opposed to what I've been eating most of my adult life.

This has not been easy by any stretch of the imagination. I struggled. I didn't stick with the plan. I could have exercised a lot more than I did. Even so, of the 30 people who started this diet back in January, only nine made it to the end, and of those nine I lost the most weight in the group.

The quote by Churchill above is appropriate here in more ways than one: I, too, have been engaged in a mortal struggle for my very survival against an inexorable and seemingly unstoppable foe. It has cost me dearly: my way of life has had to change, and certainly this program has not been cheap. It is, however, cheaper than a coffin (both literally and metaphorically).

Still, I am a long way from where I want to be. 50 pounds (more or less) down, another 75 (at least) to go.

That said, I am proud to have incorporated more exercise into my life. Today I walked the farthest in one day that I have in 15 years. This morning I walked my son to school, and then took the long way back, for a total of 2.1 miles. In the afternoon I walked to the school (the long way) and at my son's request took the long way back (during which we had a very involved conversation about surveyor's marks on the pavement, how to dig up a sidewalk, how much sidewalk slabs weigh, etc.) for a total of 3.04 miles. Total distance: 5.14 miles! Now I just need to get to where I can run that far...November is getting closer every day! And that's just the first race I want to run!

I want to start incorporating some strength training into my routine as well. I don't necessarily need to get ripped, but I do need more muscle tone and upper body strength. Next week, the weight bench will be deployed and put to use! I've been frustrated with not having enough room in the garage to set it up properly; the simple expedient of pulling it out into the driveway will solve that problem with minimal effort (particularly with summer close at hand--bad weather will not be an excuse for the next several months!) I should have started doing this weeks ago. Oh, well. The future begins now!

Sex And The Single Civil Servant (Part 1)

I knew that title would get some attention!

There's an old joke somewhere about how things which seem miserable at the time actually turn out to be pretty good, but I can't remember it right now. An online conversation not long ago with a female friend of mine who was lamenting her dating situation brought this to mind.

It's not easy for geeks in general (and people like me in particular) to date. You first have to get past the initial intimidation that social encounters present. Then you have to find someone with whom your interests more or less align. Then you have to worry about presenting yourself the right way. And then you have to worry about whether or not the interest is reciprocated.

Not much different than dating in general, you say? For ASD folks like me it's about like trying to read while blindfolded. There have been so many situations where I either failed to read very obvious signals that she was interested or (more often) very obvious signals that Things Were Not Going Well that I generally regarded my single life as pretty miserable.

Note the use of the past tense.

In retrospect, things weren't all that bad. From age 18 to age 35 (when I got married) I dated a total of 11 people. That may not seem like a lot, but keep in mind that I generally only dated one person at a time, for a long time (most relationships, when I had them, lasted a year or more). Out of that group, I am still in touch with seven of them, and on good terms.*

Overall, that's not bad. Especially when one considers that three of the remaining four all were in the space of three years (1996-1999 were not fun by any stretch!) and had issues ranging from social climbing to mental illness mistaken for religious mania. In other words, I learned really quickly how to identify and avoid the toxic people in the only way a guy like me can--baptism by fire! 

But like the refiner's fire in the old hymn, a lot of the dross got burned away. I'd like to think I became a better partner as a result. Maybe not perfect--hell, I know I'm not!--but certainly vastly improved.

I like to think that everyone gets what they deserve in life. Of the seven ladies I mentioned above, two have since gotten married to a couple of very lucky men; one decided she was happier single; one came out (and seems to be much happier for it); and two are still looking but will some day make someone very happy.

Regrets? Absolutely none. I have Sandy now. And while she may not understand me or what I do sometimes, she has always had my back and helped me be where my feet are when necessary. And if you can't get that from a partner, you don't have a partner at all!

Single friends, take heart--the world is full of many winding paths, and not all of them lead to the socially-approved destination. But who are other people to tell you what to do anyway?  Sometimes you have to make your own happy ending.

That's what I'm doing--because the game isn't over yet!

* Of the remaining four, one is lost to the sands of time, and had some demons of her own to confront. One was someone who only wanted me to carry her through school and do her homework, then was done with me. One was R.C., whom I wrote about back on Valentines Day this year. And one was seriously dangerous--she was mentally ill, which she interpreted as religious mania (she was, like many of the women I knew in the 1990's, a Charismatic who saw demonic influences behind every rock and tree). She was also extremely jealous and deceitful--after three months of her, my bank account was empty, my long-distance service had been changed several times, and several valued possessions had been damaged or destroyed. To this day she is the One Whose Name I Do Not Mention, and one of only two individuals I've ever considered filing a restraining order against.

Week 14: Excuses vs. Explanations

Last week's number: 304.3 pounds
This week's number: 306.4 pounds
Week-to-week loss: -2.1 pounds
Net loss: 43.6 pounds

I am rather alarmed by this figure. This is two consecutive weeks that I've gained, so I'm stepping things up even more this week. Some of this gain is due to a loss of discipline on my part, and some is due to a change in medication. I have been taking a diuretic to regulate my blood pressure, and upon the advice of the doctor monitoring the program I discontinued it briefly to see how I would respond. Obviously I still need the medication, as not only did my weight go up, so did my blood pressure. All the weight I've been carrying has indeed taken its toll.

Some might consider this just an excuse for poor performance. There is a fine distinction between an excuse and an explanation that most people seem to forget. An excuse is exactly that: a reason not to continue. An explanation seeks to understand why the change took place, and find ways to reverse or mitigate it.

Lots of people have excuses. Very few people have, or want, explanations.

Since this weigh-in I've been much more diligent about my diet and exercise, and I've resumed taking the medication. It seems to have worked. As of this morning, using the home scale (which will be the only scale I have after next week) I checked in at 295.8 pounds--my lowest weight in nearly a decade, and within ten pounds of my halfway point! Shedding the excess fluid helped!

Next week will be my final weigh-in with the program, although I will continue using the low-calorie foods until I wean myself off of them. Both Sandy and I are dedicated to making better health choices, even though she was unable to complete the program I'm on because of recent events. Less fried food and fast food, more vegetables and fruits. The juicer is about to get a workout!

Speaking of which, I need to start working out even harder. Now that I can feel more muscle than fat in my abdomen, I also feel the need to tighten that muscle up. That race in November is getting closer every day...

Week 13: No Instant Pudding

"There is no instant pudding." -- W. Edwards Deming

Last week's number: 303.0 pounds
This week's number: 304.3 pounds
Week-to-week loss: -1.3 pounds
Net loss: 45.7 pounds

The above quote is not merely just a wise choice when trying to lose weight. It's something to keep in mind when implementing any kind of improvement scheme. Nothing happens immediately; it takes effort and persistence.

The past few weeks have not been my greatest. I've been under a lot of pressure and, as I mentioned before, I tend to eat to resolve stress. With most of the stress off of me now (finals are over--successfully as far as I know--and my mother-in-law has transportation, and therefore independence, again) I can focus on getting back on track.

The last time I had a gain on this program it really upset me; this time I'm handling it a little better knowing that my body is bound to plateau at some point and a pound or two is natural variation for any human being over the course of a week. I didn't notice it before because my weight was so high that I attributed the difference to error in the scale. Now that I'm more conscious of it I'm paying more attention.

It's important in any diet not to weigh yourself too often, or these daily or weekly fluctuations will influence your attitude. In statistics, and in quality assurance in particular, this is reflected in two different ways:

Type 1 error: thinking something is bad when it's really not. The classic example is that of a jury convicting an innocent man. Usually it refers to rejecting a perfectly good product as defective. In this case, it's thinking you're not losing weight when, over the long haul, you really are.

Type 2 error: thinking something is good when really it's not. For example, a jury acquitting a man who should have been found guilty, or accepting a defective product. In this case, it's thinking you're losing weight when you're really not.

My weight fluctuation is less than one-third of one percent of my total weight, which in any statistical or engineering context would be considered background noise. The fact that I basically broke even in a week when my dietary discipline was far from what it should have been is itself a good sign. While I didn't stick strictly to the diet, neither did I go overboard. This is a good sign for the future.

But it's not good enough for what I hope to accomplish. I need to keep the pressure up and get the exercise routine going full force again. And I need to develop the habits I'll have for the rest of my life once this diet is over. I do not want to get back to the way I was, ever. I want to be the best I can be for my age and given the constraints I need to work around. The key to that, however, is actually working around them.

On to the next week!

Week 12: Now The Truth Can Be Told

 

Last weigh-in: 307.6 pounds

This week's number: 303.0 pounds 

Week-to-week loss: 4.6 pounds (over 2 weeks) 

Net loss: 46.8 pounds 

 As I said a couple of posts ago, it's not been an easy two weeks for me with everything that's happened. That doesn't mean I'm stopping! I still want to reach my goals, and I'm intending to stick with a better diet once I start the transition phase as of next week. Even tonight, after I finish this post and get some studying done, I'm going on another run. It's more than getting in shape, or wanting to be as much of an athlete as I can be in my 40's, or looking good in costume (or, for that matter, my old uniforms, or even regular business attire). Much more. 

 I've shared this little revelation with my family, so now I feel comfortable sharing it here. My bloodwork starting out this little odyssey was not good. Not in the least. I was borderline diabetic and, even more ominously, looking at kidney failure probably even before the diabetes kicked in. Drastic action needed to be taken. Forget reaching my dreams--I want to live to see my children grow up! 

Some people have been shocked when I've told them about the particulars of this diet. To be true, 800 calories a day isn't much--it's what most people in North Korea are getting if they're lucky. It's bare subsistence. Some people have called me crazy, or have questioned the wisdom of this approach when something else worked for them just as well. This was needed, and I am doing everything under the supervision of a physician using products specially formulated for such a plan. Do NOT attempt a very low-calorie diet without consulting with your physician, or without appropriate medical monitoring!

For the better part of 20 years I've been carrying far more weight than is healthy for any human being. I tried to shrug it off, thinking that things weren't all that bad because I could still do most of the things that I do on a regular basis. Then I got married. Then I had kids. And suddenly all of the things I did routinely on the job got a lot harder. My back went out more often and took longer to recover. Where I could de-van an entire cargo container almost single-handedly, suddenly even the most routine exams became physically taxing (not that I didn't do my job--I pushed myself, and made myself sick, and lost a lot of productive time at work and at home as a result). I stopped using my telescope because it took too much effort to set up (and it is some effort--the instrument weighs 135 pounds fully assembled and all of those parts need to be carried to where I want to go). Slowly but surely I was losing my way of life, even though I didn't notice it at the time. 

And then the bloodwork came back. I was angry that I let myself fall that far. I was scared for my health and for the future of my family. But more than that, I was pissed off! 

"Be angry, yet do not sin," the Bible says (Ephesians 4:26). I had a lot of trouble with that one. In the past I have let my anger get the better of me and have said and done some unspeakable things as a result. I thought the answer was to suppress my anger, to not let it out at all lest someone get hurt. In the past year the wisdom of that statement finally came clear to me. 

(Yes, maybe I was slow on the uptake here. I've already explained here that common sense for me doesn't necessarily mean the same thing as it may mean for everyone else. God apportions strengths and weaknesses to all human beings in equal proportion--so be it.)

I am to take my anger and turn it toward something productive! If I am angry about my situation, I am to use the energy I would otherwise expend in a futile explosion of emotion and instead turn it toward actually resolving the issue that made me angry to begin with! Angry about finances? Make a plan to get them under control! Angry about not making progress toward your life goals? Make the commitment--and don't question the sacrifice. Angry about your weight? Get with your doctor and make a plan to lose the weight! 

 My anger comes out on the road, with the weights, climbing the stairs. My anger burns--burns away this weight which has been such a tremendous physical and emotional burden to me for so long. I've had people laugh at me as I'm running. No matter; I'm not doing it for their general convenience. I'm reminded of all the people who laughed at me about my weight, and I push forward, determined to push those voices deep into my past where they may be heard but won't have any impact. Some people would sink into despair and give up. I. Will. Not!!! 

I want to be a better man than I've been, in all respects. That's why I'm fighting so hard. The person inside of me, the person I know I can be, wants to come out and introduce himself to the world. And he will, before long. All it takes is a little blood, a little sweat, and a little tears, applied over time. Let's make it happen!

Intermission: Musical Mix and Match

This is a little game I invented while I was stuck on the freeway back in 2006 (in other words, pretty much all of 2006). How it works: use the names of bands active between 1950 and the present day, and match them up in interesting ways. Just one commute gave me the following. Mind you, almost all of these performers have charted at least once, and have at least three album releases:

One From Column A	One From Column B
RATT	Poison
Assassin	Dead Kennedys
Genesis	Revelation
DEVO	Evolution
Billy Idol	Stone Temple Pilots
Meat Loaf	Wavy Gravy
The B-52's	Napalm Death
Queen	Prince
Paul Revere and the Raiders	Boston
KISS	The Flaming Lips
REM	Dream Academy
Pink Floyd	The Moody Blues
The Black Eyed Peas	Korn
The Originals	The Replacements
Styx	The Rolling Stones
Adam and the Ants	Black Flag
B5	Night Ranger
MC Hammer	Nine Inch Nails
Revolver	The Automatic
Simple Minds	No Doubt
The Vandals	The Village People
The Beach Boys	The Commodores
Orbital	The Georgia Satellites
Deep Purple	The Indigo Girls
Natalie Merchant	The Communards
Hiroshima	Megadeth
The Police	Firehouse
Eagles	Wings
Dire Straits	Millionaires
Three Dog Night	Cat Stevens
Jefferson Airplane	Grand Funk Railroad
The Cars	Traffic
The Monkees	Bananarama
The Beatles	Eddie Rabbit
The Dwarves	They Might Be Giants

Just one of the things my mind does when it gets bored...

Coming Up For Air

It has been a wild, wild, wild two weeks!

The amount of stress and the situations that have cropped up in the past two weeks has just been utterly insane.  It started the evening of the 14th, when my car (a two-door coupe) started doing a credible impersonation of a Soviet T-72 main battle tank. The following morning, I took it to a mechanic to learn that the timing chain had jumped due to a bolt that had sheared off flush to the engine block. The Ides of March: a bad day to be a Roman dictator, a 2003 Pontiac, or my bank account.

Four days and several hundred dollars later, the car was fixed. Unfortunately it was not fixed in time for me to go to my weigh-in that week, so I have no idea where I stand (although I have been keeping up with my walking and have had a couple of good walks in the 1.5 to 2-mile range). In the midst of this I had the second midterm for my Project Management class, a class that is proving to be the Ivan Drago to my Rocky Balboa: I may win but there's a good chance that my brain will be damaged as a result. I rushed to get as much homework done as possible before the trip Sandy and I had planned last weekend: a semiannual bowling tournament in Las Vegas.  We'd really been looking forward to this trip as a chance to get away from the routine for a while and reconnect.

Unfortunately my mother-in-law ended up in a very bad car accident on the way up here to watch the kids. Her car was completely totaled, although she made it out with only a black eye, a twisted ankle, and some rattled nerves. Sandy went on to Vegas without me so at least she could get away while someone kept a watch on her mother to make sure she was okay.

Stress? Did someone say stress?

I'm a bit worried because I have noticed that I eat in response to stress and while I haven't eaten a lot, I have been less than faithful to my diet. I am trying to get back on track, though, for the weigh-in next week. But in the meantime I have been reminded that there are more important things to worry about. Much more important things.

I've come to view events such as this as God's way of shaking us out of our self-absorption. We get bound up in our own activities and our own lives and sometimes don't think of the people around us who may be hurting. Sometimes it has to be brought close to home. I am thankful that we're in a position to help my mother-in-law to a certain extent. I remember a time not so long ago when we wouldn't have been anywhere near such a position, and count my blessings every morning that those days are farther behind us with every sunrise.

So no, I haven't weighed in. And no, I haven't been as faithful on my diet as I should have been (although I've hardly gorged the way I did in the old days, either). But tomorrow is another day.

Attention Science Geeks!

Habemus Papam! Pope Francis I is one of us!!!! According to his official biography, the new Pope holds a Masters degree in chemistry.  He's probably the first trained scientist in the modern sense of the word to become Pope.

And this isn't some bogus 'intelligent design' or 'creation science' degree earned in a basement Bible college, either.  His MS was awarded by the University of Buenos Aires, which is basically the MIT of Latin America and one of the top-ranked universities in the world.  Yes, the Pope is a science nerd with real cred!

This gives me hope for the future with regard to the religion-science debate.  For the first time in modern history a major religious leader has a strong science background, although the Catholic Church learned its lesson from Galileo long ago.  Despite what is usually taught to high school seniors and undergraduates, Galileo's major works had all been removed from the Holy Index by 1800--the first time an experiment could be conducted that conclusively proved the movement of the Earth. Galileo himself would have been rehabilitated much earlier were it not for intervening political events that preoccupied previous Popes. Pius XII was close to doing so but didn't want to risk a church split with World War II at hand.  Today Galileo's statue stands in the Vatican as a reminder of a painful lesson learned.

Of course, the Jesuits (to which Francis belonged before becoming Pope) have always been big on science and are at least partly responsible for the strong academic foundation that Catholic educational institutions have become legendary for.  It was the Jesuit order, in fact, that verified Galileo's claims.  Galileo's persecution had more to do with karma coming home to roost (Galileo was very good at making enemies!)  than with his specific assertions.  It's because of the Jesuit influence that the Catholic Church didn't repeat the mistake it made before with regard to evolution (which for the most part is taught without controversy in Catholic institutions).

I'm not Catholic, so I really don't have a dog in this fight, but Pope Francis is fairly conservative on a lot of issues (homosexuality, birth control) so he's not going to be all things to all people.  But his scientific background, combined with his established track record in addressing the needs of the poor I think bodes well for the future. Added (read: much needed) bonus:  he's come out in the past very strongly against child abuse and no doubt will kick some priestly ass with regard to the sexual abuse scandals that have come out in recent years.  Personally, I think he should restart the Inquisition in full Torquemada mode for that one.

Week 9: Setback? What Setback???

Last week's number: 306.1 pounds
This week's number: 307.4 pounds
Week-to-week loss: -1.3 pounds
Net loss: 42.2 pounds

Yes, I went backward.  I didn't have such a disciplined week as far as eating goes.  That's changed, posthaste.

On the other hand, I have had a great week with exercise, running three times last week and getting my distance up to 1.6 miles.  Granted, we're not talking about a Chariots of Fire performance here (although I probably look like one of the slow-motion training shots on the beach as I'm running out there) but it's far, far better than I could do even six months ago.  Tonight I started on the exercise bike but only made it 15 minutes before I was reminded that different muscle groups are indeed required for different forms of exercise.  From now on I'm going to change it up and try to exercise every day.

I'm told that some of the gain may in fact be water retention due to inflammation because I'm using my muscles more.  That's undoubtedly true.  What's also undoubtedly true is that I fell to temptation more often than I'm comfortable with.  Tonight I drew a line in the sand.  And I have another goal in mind, too.

A friend of mine informed me of a 5K run in San Diego this October, and I'm going to sign up.  I'm already running about half that distance now so by October I should certainly be able to handle 5K and then some.  Besides, the participation medal is shaped like Darth Vader--what SF fan couldn't resist that???

I've also fulfilled one of my previous goals--that of mapping out a weekly schedule which I intend to implement next week (so I can start fresh on Sunday; besides, this week is halfway shot).  It's not terribly prescriptive; it basically outlines what activities I'll pursue on what days.  I have deliberately blocked in time for the family--not that it will be the only time, but that some time will be reserved for Sandy and the kids because I admit I do get too preoccupied with other things and need a way to keep on track.  I intend to put something similar together at work as well so I can make your tax dollars go as far as possible (and get my next performance review to look even better ;-) )

I've referenced the Rocky movies in this blog specifically and during this diet/exercise regimen generally more than a few times.  The first three movies are probably my favorite mundane (i.e., non-science fiction or fantasy) movies. In addition to being a brilliant character study, a classic Jungian Hero's Journey, and probably the most motivating story ever put on film, the struggle is very, very real. Sylvester Stallone is on record as saying the entire series from start to finish is in many ways autobiographical--swap boxing for acting and Stallone's entire career progression can be seen.  Starting from the beginning:

Rocky - the Old Shame first job (Rocky collecting for a loan shark/Stallone taking a porno role because he'd just been evicted and needed money)  and the unlikely first triumph (Rocky taking Apollo the distance/Stallone getting the first Rocky movie produced on a shoestring budget and winning the 1976 Best Picture Oscar)
Rocky II - proving that success wasn't a flash in the pan (Rocky's rematch with Apollo/Stallone producing a successful sequel).
Rocky III - both Stallone and his most famous character fight to the top of their respective professions and survive major challenges
Rocky IV - his toughest challenge yet, against a steroid-fueled, almost robotic muscle-bound foreigner who's literally broken all previous competition (reflecting Stallone's on-screen rivalry with Arnold Schwarzenegger; in reality the two men are good friends and business partners)
Rocky V - bad decisions and changes in the industry leave both Rocky and Stallone down on their luck (albeit not entirely back to square one)
Rocky Balboa - a bittersweet comeback later in life that wins over audiences

In other words, we see the evolution of a human being during his lifetime, with the on-screen boxing both a literal conflict and a metaphor for life's struggle.  The whole series, beginning to end, is a classic (although most people, including Stallone, would like to forget Rocky V).

But then again, we all have our own Rocky V, don't we?  This past week was mine.  But that's over with.  One of my objectives with this blog was, like Stallone with the Rocky movies, to explore my own life and document both the good and the bad, so that one of these days someone might get something out of it.

Gonna fly now!

Chess: A Tale of Two Brothers

I grew up with two brothers, Robert and John, who were both several years older than me.  John, unfortunately, did not live to adulthood; he was killed in a traffic accident when I was nine years old.  Robert is doing just fine and is enjoying his kids and grandkids spread out throughout the Midwest; we talk from time to time.

Chess was a major preoccupation for all three of us growing up. Robert was easily the strongest player in the family.  John wasn't quite as strong but he was certainly much better than I was.  The two of them took turns playing me when they weren't playing each other.

Robert was a power player--he'd see a mistake and let you try to figure out what you did wrong with subtle hints that I never picked up on.  Consequently our chess battles looked like the opening phases of the First Gulf War with me as Iraq.  John was a softie; he knew he was better than me at the game, but would throw the game almost all the time to let me win.  The chess set (not the board) above was made by my mother for him; sadly he didn't live to actually use them in a game.  Usually there would be stakes involved in John's games too: the Japanese lacquer bowl you see in the center of the board would be filled with pennies that John would 'bet' on the outcome of the game.  I got a lot of pennies out of that bowl and both the set and the bowl are among my most prized possessions today.

I grew up then with a love/hate affair for the game: I love it because of the intellectual challenge and the deep emotional meaning it has for me.  I hate it because in my adult playing life I've managed to beat exactly one opponent making a record of 1-12 against her.  As I said in my last post, I have a very strong competitive bent.  Where chess is involved, the emotional meaning of the game for me makes that even worse.

I think about this as I contemplate teaching Alex the game I loved so much as a child.  He is not a patient little boy.  I've seen him get upset during a game of Chutes and Ladders over not hitting a particular spot he'd picked on the board, even though he ended up winning the game! My record against Alex in Chutes and Ladders is currently 0-20; he's a lucky little bastard with the dice!  He'll be a holy terror in RPGs when he gets older!

On the one hand, I want to ease him into the game gently, the way John did.  Playing John was always fun, and not just because I got to clean out his spare change!  Somehow he knew how to pull his punches the way he never did in a street fight (which he seemed to go out of his way to get into).

On the other hand, I see what Robert was trying to accomplish as well: he wanted to give me a real challenge and learn how to read the board myself.  Later when I got my first computer he supplied me with the strongest chess program available at the time, and I spent many, many hours subjecting myself to its not-so-tender mercies. Unfortunately me being the way I am, I didn't see that and interpreted it as yet another round of big brother teasing.  This interpretation persisted for a long time!

I've always feared being in the shadow of both of my brothers and I've spent most of my life trying to get out from under the perception that I wasn't quite as good as Robert intellectually or John physically--almost as though I was the average between the two.  In a lot of ways that's still true today although I see where it put up a major barrier between Robert and me for many years.  Thankfully things have improved considerably, especially since I got married.

Since I've started my little self-improvement journey this year I've looked back on it all and see that Robert was trying to teach me something bigger than chess: by not holding back, he was treating me with respect despite his being eight and a half years older than I am.  He was saying, I know what you're capable of, and I'm not going to let you get away with anything less than your best effort.  He wanted me to push the envelope, just like I was talking about in my last post. To an eight-year-old, that seems brutal.  As a 44-year-old, I see the wisdom perfectly.

And yet I see the wisdom of John's approach as well.  He kept the game fun and kept me from being discouraged.  A lot of the reason I stuck with the game was the memory of playing with him (some of the last really clear memories I have of him, actually).  In the end, each was playing to his strengths.  I somehow need to learn to average them out and find my own.

Maybe I should challenge Alex.  But not too hard.  I still need to learn how to play the game better myself!

Chess anyone?

Pushing The Envelope

Today I challenged myself.  I decided to break out of my shell publicly the way I've been doing here online.

I've been a member of Toastmasters International for about a year now.  Toastmasters is very famous for helping people polish their public speaking skills, but there's also a leadership component involved: members of a given local club rotate through club officer positions and learn how to actually manage the organization.  This actually has been my main focus until recently.

I am a very competitive person but have lacked any productive arena in which I can exercise that drive.  I haven't been nearly fit enough for sports (although that is changing!) and I haven't had the time to put into strategy games that I'd like.  The work environment could be competitive, but the focus for the past several years has been on teamwork (in fact, part of my job is to foster teamwork!)   There is a huge part of me that would like to win all those shiny trophies I never got as a kid.

Hither Toastmasters.  There is a series of local, national, and international speaking competitions that takes place every year.  Having some time free in my schedule, I decided to jump in this year.

I didn't win.  I didn't even place.

Not very long ago that would have been an extremely upsetting situation for me.  It's irrational, but there it is. There is a part of me that wants to be the very best at whatever I do, and that is terrified of the mockery that will ensue should I fall short.  I'm not proud of it.  And I was upset after this loss, to be sure.

For about ten minutes!

There is, in quality assurance, a notion known as the Deming/Shewhart Cycle (it's better known as the Deming Cycle, but Deming himself gave credit to Shewhart so I'll use both names).  It works like this:

First you Plan what you're going to do: what do you hope to accomplish?  How long will it take, and what will it require?

Then you Do what you planned.  This is a very important step many people forget!

After you've done what you've planned, you Study the results.  Did you accomplish everything you set out to do?  What was the outcome? What could have been better?

After you've studied the results, you Act upon what you learned, and apply it to the next Plan.  The cycle is continuous because you should never stop learning!

Before, my assessment of any perceived defeat would have ended with 'D'.  Now, using another Deming concept, the System of Profound Knowledge, I'm able to interrupt the self-pity and apply Profound Knowledge (a combination of knowledge of a system, knowledge of variation, and psychology) to see where I can do better.  Thus, I formulate a better plan for next time.  For people like me prone to a nasty dysthemic cycle, this is a life-saver.

(And if I sound here like I'm shilling for W. Edwards Deming, it's because in a way I am.  He was one of the brighter minds of the 20th century. Deming is, next to Jesus Christ and Socrates, the biggest influence on my personal and professional philosophy. Find videos from his conferences on YouTube, visit the Deming Institute online, or read his books Out Of The Crisis and The New Economics.  You'll be glad you did!)

Okay, enough hero worship.  I'm working on becoming my own hero here!

Every time I feel like I've fallen short since this year began, whether it be on my diet or anything else, I've been running the cycle. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.  But it's far better than what I used to do: wallow in self-pity and bemoan my fate while doing absolutely nothing to avert it.


'Pushing the envelope' is a phrase used by test pilots that dates back to the 1940's at least.  It's taking an aircraft or spacecraft and putting it through its paces--literally flying the vehicle until it's at the point of falling apart (and sometimes beyond).  The purpose is to learn exactly what that vehicle's weaknesses are, and what it can handle.  It is the Deming/Shewhart Cycle in action.  The past three months I've been doing that with my entire life, and I don't regret it.

Physically I'm exercising more than I have in the past decade, and I'm enjoying it!  Tonight I did another run around the neighborhood.  I only meant to go a little farther than last night; I'd planned for 1.35 miles.  On the way home I felt good and added a little extra and managed 1.53 miles!  That's half the first Spartan Race (albeit without the mud pit, the fire, etc.) and considerably more than I could have done just a few months ago.  I wasn't winded very much when I was done, either, and I think I actually ran a little faster this time.  Maybe by this time next week I'll be able to run the 2.1 miles I was so proud of walking when I first started this odyssey!

Mentally I've got my graduate coursework.  I'm currently taking two courses: reliability engineering, and project management.  Of the two, the project management course is actually the more difficult which surprised me.  I have my schedule mapped out through mid-2014 when I hope to will have my thesis completed, and I already have a few ideas on that one, too.  I'm wanting to play more strategy games with my spare time (such as it is) and my lifelong interest in chess has reawakened with a vengeance.  That'll be my next entry.

Spiritually I'm more engaged with my church and with personal devotion.  There is a small Bible study at work that meets once a week during lunch; I've known everyone in the group for years but have never developed a deep connection with them until now.  Given the environment we're in (stressful even in the best of times, and with the government sequester affecting operations even more so now) it's desperately needed.

(And before anyone launches a tirade about a religious activity taking place on government property I will note that it is 1) completely voluntary with no proselytizing of any form taking place; 2) on our lunch break, and specifically timed not to go beyond that so we don't use taxpayer time; and 3) not discriminatory in any way.  If my Jewish, Moslem, Hindu, or Buddhist brothers and sisters in service, and I have a few of each at least, wanted to start their own groups not only would I cheer them on I'd have some very strong words for anyone trying to stop them.  Otherwise the flag outside the building has no meaning for the people working on its behalf inside it.)

Emotionally things are tougher.  I try to be the best husband and father I can be but I know there are places I could do better--again the cycle.  I don't have a lot of offline friends and not really that much time to make more.  This is an area I hope to shore up more in my life.  Church, Toastmasters, the RMN, and some old friends I have still in the area all offer promising opportunities. But my family will always come first.  The Toastmasters competition, for example, only happened because Alex didn't have a baseball game today--otherwise I would have held off.  I will be there for my children, no matter the cost, if my decision alone has anything to do with it.

I'm pushing the envelope, my friends, and like that F/A-18 in the picture at the beginning of this post, I aim to make some shockwaves!

Week 8: The Halfway Mark, and a Goals Assessment

Last week's number: 309.1 pounds
This week's number: 306.1 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 3.0 pounds
Net loss: 43.5 pounds

Not the number I'd hoped for, and I deserve some blame for that.  I haven't been as stringent on this diet as I should have been this past week.  I did have some...excursions from the approved meals.  I did try to mitigate the damage (we've gon out to eat twice; I opted for vegetarian choices both times) but I can't say I was consistent even here.  Oh, well. Fall down seven times, stand up eight...

My exercise routine got thrown off as well.  Last week I set a record distance of 2.6 miles on the treadmill, which promptly reached its Mean Time To Failure with the following workout.  I'm still trying to realign the belt, but I could have put more effort into this job than I have.  However...

...after this week's number came in, I wanted to get back on track.  Since neither my shoes nor the road were offline, I chose to run outside for the first time in over a decade tonight.  It wasn't exactly Rocky Balboa running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art...even on his first attempt when he can barely make it up.  But it was 1.3 miles, farther than I was able to run even back then (I couldn't even finish my run).  I kept a good steady pace for 20 minutes.  And I was able to recover fairly quickly afterward.  Contrast just a year ago when I had to run 100 yards to make a bus that was pulling away from the bus stop and was almost at the point of collapse when I got there!

This was a major milestone for me, as I hadn't planned on running on pavement for at least another two weeks.  It was also farther than I intended.  I hadn't planned on going more than a mile tonight and would have considered myself lucky for that--the treadmilll is quite a bit different from actual road or cross-country running.  Overall, I consider this an incredible success given that I hadn't worked out for a week.

As for the other goals I set for myself three weeks ago: I have gotten the garage squared away.  It's not perfect yet, but it's about 90% of the way there now and it's where I'm writing this post right now.  I did get the household repairs done, and fix all the broken toys (including Alex's bike). I've actually exceeded my goal of being able to run one mile within six months as of tonight.  My workout schedule was 5 days out of 7 until the treadmill broke down and I got lazy this past week.  I have, however, reassembled my weight bench and am in the process of clearing room to use it.

My reading schedule was perhaps a bit ambitious but I have at least kept up with my homework and one novel.  Gravity's Rainbow was not that novel.  It is a very, very complicated book which I now have a copy of on my Nook to keep from renewing the library copy the 50 times I'll need to truly comprehend it.  I'm now considering a different classic for my reading assignment.  I did Pride and Prejudice last year but Jane Austen's writing style is a little too formal for me (but then again, that's the point of this exercise: to get outside my bubble and see the world differently).  Until finals are over, I might try something a little different. I have a collection of poetry by Canadian poet Robert Service (one of my favorites--who says poetry can't be for Real Men? Just read his stuff! You won't regret it!) that I haven't touched in a while.  My journals are stacking up, however.  I need to carve some time out just to read journals.

Yeah, that schedule I was going to draw up...didn't happen either.  Fall down seven times, stand up eight.  I'll get there.

And three pounds lost is three pounds lost.  I now know that veggie burgers aren't that bad (they're pretty good, actually).  And if I ever feel in doubt about my manhood for eating them, I'll read one of Robert Service's poems about gold miners in the Yukon (or a novel about the Royal Manticoran Navy scragging lots of Peeps), jump on my weight bench for a while, and run a mile or two.  Real men can eat whatever they damned well please. :-)

I draw the line at drinking the glassful of eggs, however.  I like Rocky, but not that much!  They're not on the diet anyway.

Tall Poppy Syndrome, or A Pilgrim's Regress

(Warning: here's where I'm going to get a little controversial.  I'm also going to seem like I'm tooting my own horn, but it's to make a point.)

I have been a Christian since I was 14 years old (just after my 14th birthday, in fact).  That, in itself, is not the problem.  The voice of Christ has guided me through some really hard times--sometimes literally the point of death--over the years.  I would never, ever betray His teachings or His sacrifice, and I am forever grateful for the many wonderful brothers and sisters in the Lord I've known over the years.

Fundamentalism, however, is a different story.

Consider this verse, perhaps one of the most abused passages in Scripture if one stops to think about it:

"For I say, through the grace given to me, to everyone among you, not to think more highly of himself than he ought to think." (Romans 12:3)

A responsible reading of this text (and I've had some good pastors over the past couple of years set me right) is that Paul is cautioning the Roman church against arrogance.  No one is better than anyone else in the eyes of God, and all are to be treated equally.  This is a key part of Jesus' teachings--He even smacks down two of His disciples for such arrogance (Mark 10:35-40).

Unfortunately there are a lot of irresponsible teachers out there.  A lot!

Paul's simple admonition against arrogance has been twisted by many Fundamentalist teachers to something akin to "Don't think you're better than anyone else because you're smarter/faster/stronger/etc.  Don't even try to improve yourself, because that's putting yourself above your fellow Christians and in fact it's in direct disobedience to God's Will.  Who are you to say that what God has already given you isn't good enough?"  I've seen this time and time again.  My grandmother, God rest her soul, used to warn my mother and me about thinking we could better ourselves: "You keep thinking that way and something's going to happen to you!"

Of course, this sort of teaching flatly contradicts Scripture: Paul himself was an incredibly learned man for his time, as was Luke. Paul also said, "Whatever you do, do your work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men." (Colossians 3:23).  God wants our very best physically, mentally, and spiritually.  He will not settle for mediocrity.(Mark 12:30 is pretty plain on that one).

I had it very, very rough in church for a while.  It's well that many non-Christians have a bumper sticker that says, "Jesus Save Me From Your Followers".  Fundamentalists take the Tall Poppy Syndrome to an extreme.  Anti-intellectualism is not only an outcome, it's a basic requirement to join the club.  This is not news; it's something many churches proudly advertise.

(This isn't exclusive to academically-inclined people, either.  I was inspired in part to write this by the experience of a high school friend of mine who was a star athlete with real potential, but told by his pastor to drop sports because they were 'worldly'--while that same pastor's son went on to wrestling scholarships. Any attempt to raise oneself above the norm gets punished harshly!  These pastors probably didn't read Harrison Bergeron, as Kurt Vonnegut is about as far away from their usual reading material as one could get, but they definitely got the idea behind it.)

Now here's where I'm going to sound like I'm bragging, but I'm really not--I'm just giving background.  I tested as gifted very early in life.  In the 1970s not much was known about learning disabilities and almost nothing was known about autism spectrum disorders.  I was just a really bright kid who couldn't navigate social situations, and as a result I underperformed in the lower grades because I couldn't handle the other kids and the teachers couldn't handle me.  The situation was compounded by moving frequently from school to school (consequence of growing up in a military family, which leads to a whole different set of prejudices on the part of the public school system).  The new school would, inevitably, fail to look at the previous school's records, and any progress I may have made had to be repeated all over again.  In 4th grade I was in a gifted program where I did well; the following year we moved to where I would eventually complete grades 5-12.  Because of the disconnect, I was slotted into the special ed program.

Then the test scores came in: Stanford-Binet IQ score of 150.  I was probably the only student in that school district to date that had moved from the special ed program to the gifted program inside of a month!  I suffered the usual isolation one gets from that sort of thing, but managed to navigate through the bullying. Karate classes helped.  A father who was a Marine DI and who taught me a few things sensei didn't helped even more.  It also helped that Dad wasn't afraid to tell the principal to go to hell six different ways when that principal wanted to suspend me for sending a bully to the hospital once.  Not that we hadn't tried dealing with things according to the rules first, but rules only work when they're enforced!

(I never got that suspension, probably because the principal was too busy changing his underwear after my father got through with him.  If I didn't thank you before, Dad, thank you!)

But I digress.  Flash-forward to college where I fell in with my first genuine crop of honest-to-goodness Fundamentalists.  Something about the college environment makes one's beliefs more extreme no matter what they are.  I ended up going to an extremely charismatic church that taught such things as the influence of demons on un-Biblical political and social opinions (read: everything the pastor personally disapproved of) and emphatically believed that time not spent focusing on furthering the agenda of the church was time wasted.  Note that I said furthering the agenda of the church, not necessarily God's agenda.  I was being told in church that the world was 6,000 years old while learning and demonstrating to myself that the world is considerably older than that.  Cognitive dissonance?  You betcha!

Men who wanted to do something other than become missionaries or blue collar workers?  Arrogant.  Women who dared to have an original thought of their own not related to child care or housekeeping? Against the natural state of womanhood!  Black or Hispanic?  We love you--now go to your own churches, thank you very much.  Gay? Don't even think about mentioning it!  And of course everyone votes Republican, because they're the party of God--"There is no God but Reagan and Bush is His Prophet" could have been their motto.  Thank you Richard Nixon for screwing both the church and a respectable political party with the same strategy!

Groupthink in action, in other words.  Very rigid, very linear thinking.  Thinking outside the box was not only impossible, but feared: outside the box lay damnation itself.

I spent ten years of my life in this maelstrom, going from one Fundamentalist church to another.  I sacrificed my academic career in the pursuit of mediocrity.  Why? you may ask.  That's easy.  For the first time in my life I had friends I felt I could count on! The sacrifice, at the time, seemed worth it.

As someone on the autism spectrum I have a very difficult time making close connections with people.  I've had no more than five people at any one time I've felt really, really close to.  And dating?  That was always a nightmare! (There's another interesting feature of these churches: if you're a man and not married or dating after the age of 18, and remain single for an arbitrarily long period of time, you're presumed to be gay and treated accordingly.  I've been on the receiving end of it, which is why I'm a staunch supporter of gay rights today: nobody, gay or straight, should have to endure that sort of treatment!  They forget that Jesus was single, I think.)  In the Fundamentalist environment, it's easier: as long as you can hack the algorithm you can make all the friends you want, and even get to date at some point (although if you're not 'spiritually mature' in the eyes of the woman, good luck! The two best relationships I had during that period were with women not of the tribe--yet another taboo--and though all three of us have moved on to better things I'm still in touch with them today and on good terms.  I don't even know where those other women are. I didn't know it at the time, but I was actually being shown more genuine friendship by them than by my supposed 'equally yoked' brethren!  God does move in mysterious ways!)

And remember what I said about actually enforcing the rules?  Yep.  All are equal in the eyes of God, but some are more equal than others.  That's why you treat your pastor like a king and your wife like a slave (and I've seen some horrible treatment of women!)  Even outside the marriage context men were encouraged to mistreat women.  I remember one conversation I had with a former friend of mine who was complaining that his girlfriend wouldn't do what he says (and rightfully so; this guy wasn't exactly on the far right end of the bell curve, or even close to the middle).  "The Bible says that women must submit to men!" he told me.

"No, it doesn't," I answered.  "It says that a wife should submit to her husband, not any woman to any man.  Otherwise I could make your mother submit to me, and how would you like that?"

We never spoke again after that conversation.  No loss.  I figured out later just what he was trying to get his girlfriend to 'submit' to, which I guess is why my comment set him off.

I finally got fed up right after the 9/11 attacks and a sermon I heard at a church not far from here.  Roughly 3/4 of the sermon was in praise of the President.  I could count on one hand the number of times Jesus was mentioned.  Idolatry much?  I approached the pastor of this church after the service with some questions I had.  His response: "I think there are some guys out in the parking lot who'd like to have a word with you!"

I couldn't believe it!  This supposed man of God was threatening me!  Fortunately I was in much better shape then than I am now (although not at my peak by any means).  "Good--I could use some karate practice!" I told him as I turned away from him, shook the dust from my feet, and never entered that church or any other from that franchise again.

I went to a smaller church instead, one with barely three dozen people and a pastor struggling to heal a church split from the previous year.  He and I saw eye to eye on lots of things; were it not for him I may have fallen away completely.  He helped me through some of what I experienced and to this day even though he's no longer active in ministry I still count him as one of the best spiritual teachers I've ever had.  It was he who presided over our wedding (and who brought Sandy back into the fold after some similar experiences of hers).  When we moved to Lake Elsinore we found another small, local church with an equally gifted teacher who helped us through some very rough spots.  He, too, I miss greatly.

The church I'm attending now I selected after very careful consideration and so far none of these extremist tendencies have shown their head officially (although, being in Orange County, I probably couldn't swing a dead cat in the middle of Sunday service without hitting at least five Fundamentalists).  In fact, they seek to do the will of God by (wait for it!) actually reaching out to the community around them and providing meaningful material help, rather than a tract and an empty promise of prayer! I praise God for finding me such a strong, sound family (even if it's quite a bit bigger than I've gotten used to).

So, that's how I was lost, but now am found; was blind but now I see. At least out of my good eye!

Week 7: Back In The Saddle Again!

Last week's number: 314.1 pounds
This week's number: 309.1 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 5.0 pounds
Net loss: 40.5 pounds

By this time next week, I most likely will have lost my son's weight in fat! It's a weird notion, to think that I've lost the equivalent of a 6-year-old who thinks he's Mario half the time. ;-)  But by next year, I will have lost the equivalent weight of an adult woman (albeit one on the petite side).  Carrying around basically another human being full-time can't be good for you!

And here I thought I'd reached a plateau!  After last week's weigh-in, I redoubled my exercise efforts, putting more time in on the treadmill and adding calisthenics to the workout as well.  On Monday night I passed the 2-mile threshold on the treadmill; last night I broke 2.5 miles.  My goal is to do 3 miles on the treadmill in one hour; from there I'll increase speed.  I am really, really serious about running the Spartan Run next year!  It will be the capstone achievement for this whole program!

Overall the encouragement I've gotten while I've been on this program has been simply amazing.  I thank everyone for it every day.  But still, there are a few dissenting voices who ask why I even bother.  The answer is simple:

I have had enough of mediocrity and missed expectations in my life!

It was mediocrity that got me to where I am now physically.  It was an unwillingness to supply more effort than needed that stalled my professional and academic careers for years.  It has ruined relationships, led me to think less of myself in general, and overall made me miserable.

And I think I have a fairly good idea where this spirit of mediocrity started, too.  It certainly didn't come from my parents: both of them accomplished their goals in life and demanded nothing but the best effort from my brothers and me.  They, too, have been very supportive.  Unfortunately I did this to myself, and at the time it was with the best of intentions.

I'll cover that more in my next post.  Warning: if you don't like controversy, you may want to skip that one.

Week 6 Results and Struggles

Last week's number: 317.2 pounds
This week's number: 314.1 pounds
Week-to-week loss: 3.1 pounds
Net loss: 36.5 pounds

I was really hoping to break the 40-pound mark this week, particularly since I've started seriously exercising for the first time since we got kids back in 2007.  I'm told that weight loss numbers always decrease at the beginning of an exercise regimen because of muscle inflammation (actual muscle gain takes several weeks) but that this should reverse itself in another two to three weeks.

So I've reconciled myself to the low number, as I am in fact building (or rebuilding) a good habit: regular exercise!  One of my goals for the week was to exercise a minimum of 20 minutes a day for 5 days out of 7. I've managed to exceed that number for 6 days out of 7.  Tuesday night I was introduced to the Thera-Band for the first time (all hail the Thera-Band!)  and tonight I added some stretching and calisthenics to the mix.

That's about the only objective I've kept.  I still need to work out a weekly schedule.  The Man Cave is still only about 85% complete, partly because I found two more boxes that need to be unpacked, and partly because I'm rethinking a few things.  I did pick up a Life Journal at church on Sunday but other than a brief Bible study on my lunch break today I haven't done any devotional reading (or any other reading besides classwork).  Most disappointing of all, while I did get the household repairs done, I haven't finished fixing the kids' toys.  In particular, Alex's bike needs a new inner tube.  This weekend, that's going to happen!

I just have to keep thinking of the old Japanese proverb: "Fall down seven times, stand up eight."  I can continue to work on the objectives I've laid out.  I will get my schedule straight, I will get everything fixed, I will get this garage organized, and I will get some reading done (although my classic for the month may not get finished--Gravity's Rainbow was perhaps not the best choice to start with).

And in the meantime, I'll continue using my weight loss products, continue working out, and see what number comes up on the scale next week!

I have been remiss...

...in not congratulating Sandy publicly sooner for finishing her first week on the diet!  She's managed to drop six pounds so far!  I love you--together we will get through this!

Crunching the Numbers on the Chelyabinsk Meteorite

(Credit: Calgary Times)

Let me say this up front: I do not want at all to make light of a tragedy.  Hundreds of people have been injured as a result of this event, and of course my thoughts and prayers are with them.  But at the same time my ASD mind has been busy ever since then running the numbers on this event.

According to Russian authorities, the mass of the object was around 10 tons, and it was moving at roughly 30 kilometers per second at the time of the explosion.  The formula for kinetic energy (energy of movement) is as follows:

KE = .5(m)(v^2)

That is, kinetic energy (in joules) is equal to one half the product of the mass (in kilograms) and the square of the velocity (in meters per second).  Assuming the Russians are using the metric ton, this works out to (.5)(10,000 kg)(30 000 m/s)^2 = 4.5E12 joules, or or 4.5E09 kilojoules (that's 4,500,000,000 kilojoules).

The conversion factor between kilojoules and megatons is 4.18E12, giving us a yield of approximately 1 kiloton.  That's ten times greater than the estimated energy released by the explosions at the World Trade Center during the 9/11 attacks, or one-tenth the strength of the Hiroshima bomb.  It's a good-sized tactical nuke comparable to that used in the AIR-2 Genie air-to-air missile (designed to destroy Soviet bomber formations during the Cold War).

(Above: detonation of a live AIR-2 Genie during the Plumbbob John nuclear test, July 19, 1957.  This took place at around 15,000 feet--approximately half the altitude of the Chelyabinsk meteorite. Credit: U.S. Air Force file photo.)

A one-kiloton explosion has a zone of total destruction about .15 kilometers in radius.  At the .5 kilometer radius most standard housing is destroyed, although reinforced concrete structures will remain.

Now, to put that into a perspective involving human beings: I tried to get the population density of Chelyabinsk online but wasn't able to find it, so I'll use that of a city of similar size in the United States: San Diego, California (4000 people/square kilometer; if anything the population density in Chelyabinsk is likely higher given that Russian cities are much more centralized than American cities, but we can take this number and run with it).  The explosion as it occurred if it had occurred at ground level would have resulted in at minimum 3,100 deaths and injuries.  More depending upon the circumstances of impact: residential area versus industrial area; speed and competency of emergency response; secondary damage from fire, release of industrial toxins, etc.  Given that Chelyabinsk was once a center of Russian weapons-grade plutonium production and is regarded as one of the most polluted cities on Earth as a result, this could have been very, very bad.

Look at the formula above.  Mass is important, but velocity is even more important because you use the square of the velocity.  A little faster and not only would the meteorite made it all the way to the surface, the energy released would have been a lot greater.

Now, take that meteorite and drop it on San Diego, right over City Hall.  Here's what you get with a ground burst:

http://meyerweb.com/eric/tools/gmap/hydesim.html?dll=32.71533,-117.15726&yd=1&zm=14&op=156

Pretty much everything between Balboa Park and the Convention Center is trashed.  The Padres aren't going to be playing at PETCO Park anytime soon, as it and the Gaslamp Quarter have been pretty well demolished. You don't get the same level of secondary damage from dispersed industrial pollutants as Chelyabinsk, because San Diego's heavy industries aren't located in the city core, but you do lose a lot of infrastructure you'd need to respond to the disaster: police and fire department assets, several hospitals, disruption of communications, etc.  Likely in either Chelyabinsk or San Diego you'd be looking at tens of thousands of deaths, to be realistic.  And then there's the economic damage: billions of dollars just to repair and rebuild, with a longer-term impact due to the loss of infrastructure and vital industries.

Again, this is the same object that exploded at roughly 10,000 meters above Chelyabinsk (about the altitude of a commercial airliner).  An object that could actually break through the pressure front of the air in front of it and reach the ground would be a lot more energetic and do that much more damage.
Still don't think we need a space program?  Our only hope of preventing a huge tragedy is to get out there, find out what these things are really made of before they impact, and learn how to stop them.

Chelyabinsk is a wake-up call, or it should be.  Thank God it wasn't any worse.

(Credit: IBI Times. I don't know this man's name or I'd include it too. All things considered, he got off lucky!)

The St. Valentine's Day Massacre: Some Notes For My Single Friends

I'll admit it.  I was very bitter about being single.  For years I wanted to hold my own Valentine's Day party. It would be in a garage and everyone would have to come in 1920's costumes. ;-)

A lot of it stems from being in an environment where nearly all of the people I associated with were paired up, and I could never quite get someone to commit to being my girlfriend (or, if I did, it was because she wanted something of me).  I've been on the receiving end of the 'just friends' speech more times than I care to count!  There were a couple of exceptions, whom I'm still in touch with today even though we've both moved on to other partners.  But by and large, I was single much more often than I was with someone, and my coupled friends were not at all afraid to rub that in my face.  I'm not sure what hurt more: the people who joked with me about not being able to get any, or the supposed 'good Christian couples' in my life who claimed that my singleness was a gift from God while at the same time telling me it was a sign of spiritual immaturity (let the cognitive dissonance begin!  George Orwell invented the term doublethink exactly for this sort of situation!)

All that aside, I will share briefly the story of one relationship I had from late 1996 to Valentine's Day 1998--a day I call the St. Valentine's Day Massacre.  You'll see why in a little bit.  The individual in question shall only be referred to by her initials, R.C., to protect the guilty.

We were a perfect couple despite her being six years older than me: we had almost all of the same interests, attended the same church, and actually worked in the same building (I was still with FDA back then; she was a secretary at an architectural firm).  We hit it off immediately.  By Christmas of that year--at her insistence; I wanted to wait--we were engaged. I hit it off very well with her eight-year-old daughter and I regret to this day any hurt I may have caused that little girl (now a grown woman).

There were problems, I'll admit it: I was not the most mature individual in the world, and I had some issues I was struggling with at the time (not the least of which was medication I had been prescribed which was entirely inappropriate for what I was dealing with--not that anyone knew that back then).  She however was less than truthful with me: she really was looking for a meal ticket, and I wasn't providing it to her satisfaction.  

Flash forward to Valentine's Day 1998.  We went to see Titanic.  That was the end of things.  She decided she wanted someone more like free-wheeling, devil-may-care Jack than established society gentleman (and overall enormous prick) Carl.  At the same time, however, she had the gall to say the following: "There is a lifestyle to which I would like to become accustomed, and I am raising my daughter to have the same expectations.  If you cannot provide that, it's time for me to move on."  Again, doublethink.

A week later the relationship was very, very painfully over.  This was at the same time that Celine Dion's Titanic Love Theme was in heavy rotation on the radio, so every time I turned on the radio I got reminded of it.

If that weren't bad enough, R.C. had the unmitigated gall to call me every year at work on Valentine's Day to brag about how great her life was going and how she made the right decision.  This happened three years in a row.

On the third anniversary of our breakup, I finally worked up the courage to let her have it.  But I did so in a nice way: I told her how great my life was going, that I had moved on to someone else (which I had by that point, even if the relationship had only just started), and that I was on an upward track (which I was--later that year I would be promoted to investigator, something I had been working toward for a long time).  

She got very quiet, then the truth came out: she admitted the breakup was entirely her fault, and told me her father was critically ill (he had Parkinson's disease even when we were together--a pity, since I genuinely liked that guy) and her daughter was failing English, and could I by chance offer her some tutoring?  At the time I was moonlighting as a high school and college tutor--ironically, I got that job because of an introduction R.C. had made for me!  I said, "I'm afraid you probably couldn't afford me," and at that point the call terminated.  And it's a good thing I did, because another friend of mine, a nice little old Jewish lady named Frieda whom I'd met online after breaking up with R.C., said that she would personally fly out to California and kick my ass if I even considered that proposal for one moment!

So I dished out my own St. Valentine's Day Massacre on February 14, 2001.  Payback is a bitch when you pay back the bitch!

Two years and a week later, I would meet a wonderful lady named Sandy whom I had the honor of marrying the following year.  We've had our difficulties, but in the decade since we have made each other stronger in every way as we've faced every conceivable challenge a couple could face.

The moral of this sordid tale, for my single friends, is that sometimes you're better off alone.  Don't settle for less than what you're truly worth.  And sometimes you need to be alone for awhile to figure out what you are truly worth.  Your value is not dictated by who you are or are not partnered with.  Your value is dictated by your values, your achievements, and your motivation in life.

That said, I never ever want to forget my single friends on this day.  I love every single one of you and I'm not afraid to admit it.  So go to bed tonight knowing that someone cares, someone remembers, and someone wants the very best for you.

As for you, R.C.: I've forgiven you.  I can't hate, because that would imply that I care.  I do hope that you've gotten everything you deserve, however, and that's all I can say about that.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!  I'm thinking I need to give the MST3K treatment to Titanic again soon. ;-)