An Ironman and his Boobies

"Did you do it?" she asked, her eyes tracing across my chest.

I took a second but I manged to pull myself out of my iPod daze, "Uh, pardon?"

"The race," she said as she motioned to my t-shirt, "did you actually do it?". Clothed with one of my "Ironman Finisher" shirts, I had ventured out to the bank to cash a cheque and was being chatted up in line. Too bad I didn't race when I was single, I thought...

I guess I don't look in the best of shape because people are always surprised to find I actually can finish an Ironman distance triathlon, and post a respectable time as well. Another query happened last week too, while at the beach (different finisher T-shirt though). That particular time it came from a Coast Guard Diver who was suiting up to catch some sea life to show to the kids on the beach. Being a strong swimmer himself he looked surprised I could even make the 2.4 mile swim, let alone do a 112 mile bike and 26.2 mile run right after it.

When those sort of things happen, I usually feel pretty good about my ability to accomplish things people say or assume I can't do. After all, like Roger Martin I aspire to beat, not just to satisfy the world. So what if I am not the fittest person out there? At least I start the race and ultimately finish strong. Who cares if I have 15 pounds on the rest of my racing field? Drinking slushees and going to the Olive Garden for double pasta dinners three times the week before my races probably doesn't help, but it makes all the training pain worth it.

However, today I paused to rethink my "feeling good despite what you think" theory. Here's how my 1 year old put it all in perspective:

Yesterday my 1 year old climbed up on my knee, pulled up my shirt and, as she punched her chubby finger into my soft belly, shouted "Boobie! Boobie! Big boobie!"

Yes, I may be an Ironman, but like any child she called it like it really was, all while using 2 of the 13 words she actually knows. That means it is probably time to stop drinking coke and go for a run instead. Caloric output replaces caloric input. I should probably run nowhere in particular, and see if I can loose the boobie.

Lighten my load

"How long have we been out here?" I vaguely heard her ask the group. I looked up into the darkness of the night, not really sure myself. We had departed the restaurant for the evening, but several had remained in the parking lot to swap some additional storied stories about each others now infamous lives. Those that had once been our servers and cooks were now exiting the restaurant, passing us by as they headed home from their shifts.

I had that woozy feeling - like I either had too much of the epicurean delights or servings of coke at the restaurant. As such I stood there, disassociated to the conversation at hand, not really caring who asked the question, nor the answer. I was thinking of something more important, more purposeful for me. I was pondering if I really could have enough coke to feel woozy. Nope, I thought after a brief yet meaningful introspective moment, It must have been too much food.

"Hey, LP," she nudged, "You've got that dazed look. Everything ok?"

"Yeah," I sighed, my shoulders dropping slightly as I let out a woosh from deep down. "I was just thinking that these leftovers are getting too heavy to hold." As usual I was contemplative, yet realistic about my situation at hand ... both figuratively and literally. It was, after all, two whole slice of pizza that I was holding.

"Hmmm," I heard her say with mock empathy. Then, pausing to add amidst the laughter, "But really it should be more like: You know you're out of shape when you're standing in the middle of the parking lot after a meal chatting with your friends, leftovers in hands and you say 'Damn, this pizza is getting too heavy to hold. I should just eat it to lighten my load."

Ahh, nothing like a group of friends to call it like it really is.

Coke is (still) it

I’ve had a headache and anxiety, both entrenched within a terrible case of general bitchiness for an entire week now…you know, that sweaty, anxious feeling you get when you’re in the middle of watching a great porn flick and the 78 year old Chinese neighbor abruptly shuts the blinds thereby ending the free show? Yeah, that kind. Those who have visited my house late at night know exactly what I am talking about.

“So how long has it been?” she asked. I think she had seen my shakes and the bleary eyes, along with the desperate look I gave as I glanced at the brown bottle from across the room.

“Monday….last Monday at 1:32 pm,” I flatly responded. No trace of emotion… I just didn’t have the energy. Although indoors, I still had my sunglasses on to block out the lights. From a distance I could have passed as Bono, but up close things were different … it wasn’t the cool factor, but rather the survival factor. They were just too bright to handle. Many things were just too hard to handle.

She continued on: “It’s probably good for you….all that sugar and caffeine. The doctor said it’s the caffeine, right?”

“Yeah…caffeine. But you know , there is a distinct difference between knowing it’s good for me and actually being on board with the realization.” Yes I launched the boat, but I am not really on board with this evening sail.

One of my friends knows I’m not supposed to be having caffeine now so when he opens a Coke he makes sure he’s next to me so I can hear the pfffft sound. The really cruel part is he now attempts to waft the smell of the sweet, caffeinated scent of the bottle towards me. Pure Evil. There is no other words.

As for the reduced caloric intake, I’m just waiting to pull a Hurley moment from Lost: “And for the record, I'm down a notch on my belt. I'm a big guy. It's going to be a while before you're gonna wanna give me a piggyback ride, okay?"

If I don’t go down a notch soon, I’m heading straight back to 7-11 for a large coke slurpee. Damn the caffeine! If weight loss isn’t a side effect of this experiment, then I’m outta here and back on the Coke wagon.

Just one day at a time, but between you and me, I have a feeling by the end of the week my wife will find me bell-up on a couch at 3am, eyes wide open and my pupils fully dilated. I will be surreptitiously surrounded by empty Coke bottles and thinking about just staying up for the rest of the night. Will it be worth it if when I get busted? Without a doubt.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, or the start of Lent. Since I don’t observe Lent I normally don’t worry about it however, it does happen to neatly coincide with my caffeine intake being abruptly cut off.

This brings me to the point of my post. What have I learned from my Coke reducing diet so far about:

1. I’m glad I don’t observe Lent any other time. Going without, on purpose, really does suck.
2. I wish I would have observed Lent for this. Why? Because I’d get my caffeine back in about 40 days, but with no questions asked by the end of it.
3. I never could have been a Mormon. Sorry…I’m just a caffeinated kind of guy. Now I know what Dooce was rebelling from.

And now that I’ve taken one for the team and provided these insightful lessons, I’m going to find some caffeine in the form of liquid coke or copious amounts of chocolate.

Wish me luck.

Doctor's visit gone bad

There is no polite way to say this: I'm fucked.

I love a good Coca-Cola....in fact I love it at least once a day, preferably in the form of a slurpee. If it's liquid, then include lots of ice and pour over a wedge of lime.

During my MBA Coke was the elixir of academic success - allowing me to do papers until 4am and still make it to class for 8:30 am (with a small Coke slurpee no less) while coherently presenting case studies. It was around 2am when my classmates would begin to show signs of fatigue. As if on cue they all would slowly shuffle out of the computer lab, the bags under their eyes melting into the dark of the early morning. Instead of following the crowd I would crack open a coke, quench my desire to sleep and then get back to writing.

I was a true regular at the slurpee store. Jaz, the owner of the 7-11 store close to campus, got to know me so well he stopped counting my change out and would just toss it right into the till. I think if I had gone another semester of daily visits I would have been invited over to his house for Christmas morning the day the store was closed. I think he thought I had nowhere else to go.

But today it all changed - My doctor wants me to go off caffeine for awhile. I don't drink tea, coffee or other caffeinated beverages so the slogan really is true: Coke is it. That puts my situation in the "I'm screwed" category. The unfortunate part is that my wife was present when he said this. THAT moves it up a notch to the "I'm Fucked" category. There is no middle ground on this platform.

There is a distinct difference between your doctor telling you not to do something in private, and having your spouse present so they are there to remind you about it when you want to indulge.

By late evening I was already in withdrawal. I was sweating and getting the shakes just looking at the Coke in the fridge. "Can I finish the two cokes we have chilling in the fridge?" I asked anxiously.

"No Coke!" she flatly stated. There was not even a trace of sweet suggestion in her voice. She was bound and determined to keep me on the coke up-and-up.

"One is a Coke Zero, no calories!" I pleaded.

"NO! It's not the calories, it's the caffeine!" By the escalating tone I'm pretty sure it was one of those non negotiable statements.

"Arggggghh!" I would have laid on the floor and pretended to have a seizure if it would have helped. However all I would have gotten is a "if you're going to foam at the mouth like that do it outside. I just finished cleaning." This was not an argument I could win in one evening.

About 20 minutes later she headed out to do some shopping...and as she left I heard from the front door "And NO COKE!"

At this rate I'm going to have the DT's by tomorrow. It's going to be a looooong month....and I'm sure you're all going to hear about it. So wish me luck, and if I go off the air for awhile, it's because I'm trying to get some kid to boot Coke for me outside the local 7-11.