I’ve been one poor correspondent . . .

The Tread-Desk Diaries: Days 23-35

Miles walked: 75.2

Speed: 2.4 MPH

Incline: 3 Degrees

Total miles walked: 198.0

How’d that old ’70s song go?  I’ve been one poor correspondent, I’ve been too too hard to find, but that doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mind.

I’ve been sticking with it, peeps, but this idea that I was going to blog about walking on a treadmill everyday, that was a bit optimistic.  But I’m walking on it right now, and here’s the latest.

On my virtual road trip, I’m almost smack dab in the middle of Newton, Iowa, closing in on Des Moines. Tomorrow, I turn the odometer over on my second hundred miles.

I’m 35 days in, so just over a month. As of this morning, I’m down 7.6 pounds. Is it all the tread-desk? Hard to say. I have made some dietary adjustments, cutting back on my traditional bathtime bourbon from every night to every other night, skipping meat a couple days a week. But dieting? Not hardly. I’ve flat pigged out more than once over this period  Hell, two days ago? Fat Tuesday? I lived up to the name big time. Homemade gumbo and a blackened t-bone the size of one of Roasanne Barr’s hooters. 

What I can say with certainty is that the tread-desk provides a disciplinary frame of reference. An almost daily (still not getting much time in on weekends) reminder that, unless I want to descend into the early diabetic decrepitude that genetics points to as my lot if I continue to waddle into my dottage like the Penquin, then I need to keep whittling my ass down.

Now, I’ve dieted  before. Tried that Atkins thing once, and for a few weeks I loved it. Dropped some weight and ate meat all day long. Funny thing, though. Do that long enough, all of a sudden a slice of flavorless, textureless white bread has the appeal of Anne Hathaway in some Victoria’s Secret get-up. You start to feel about carbs the way emaciated late-80s hookers felt about crack. It’s not sustainable.

This seems to be. It’s pretty much automatic now. I get up, and after about 30 minutes settling in – checking the Twitters, having my tea - I plop the laptop on the tread-desk and knock out four miles or so.  Then I usually take a break until after lunch, after which I hop back on for the last three miles (and now, usually, more.)  It’s how I spend at least half my workday now, and it feels perfectly normal. Most of the time I don’t even think about it.

OK, it’s only been a month. Too early to pop any champagne corks. But not too early to feel like I’m on to something.

Days 20-22: Into Iowa

Hello, Hawkeyes

The Tread-Desk Diaries: Days 20-22

Miles walked: 26.5

Speed: 2.4 MPH

Incline: 3 Degrees

Total miles walked: 115.8

Busted the century mark, crossed the Big Muddy into Iowa. Hot damn.

Weird week so far. Had a touch of flu Tuesday and Wednesday. Woke up with a headache Tuesday morning, couldn’t quite shake it, then, by dinnertime I was getting that tingly-skinned feeling, then the fever, then the body aches. Hey, Mr. Flu stopping by for a little visit.  But I had my 7.1 in before things got bad.

Wednesday, I still had the fever, but the rest of the symptoms were wearing off. I was thinking of taking the day off from Mr. Tread-Desk, but I figured what the hell, let’s give it a shot. So I climbed on, and what I found out was this. You do the treadmill when you already have a fever, and you’re gonna sweat. A lot.

But I think the sweating did some good. By Wednesday night, I was feeling pretty good, and Thursday morning I was healed. 

Got a little carried away on Thursday though. Very busy day-job day, lots of editing work. I started out on the tread-desk just after 9am and, by the time I stopped to check the miles, I’d clocked a shade over 12.  Didn’t notice it on the treadmill, but my calves were a little tight after I sat for awhile.  I don’t plan on making a habit of 12 mile days, though.

So, on into Iowa.

Days 15-19 – Holding pattern

I'll be crossing into Iowa between Clinton and Davenport in the next day or so

The Tread-Desk Diaries – Days 15-19

Miles walked – 22.1

Speed – 2.4 MPH

Incline – 3 degrees

Total miles – 89.3

I’ve averaged out over my goal of 7 miles a day, so I’m keeping ahead of the 35 miles a week that I’ve based the weight loss math on. That’s the good news. The bad news? At my Monday weigh in, I was unchanged (at least based on my rounding to the nearest pound standard. I was actually up two-tenths of a pound).

My initial reaction was dismay. But then I stopped to think about the week. I’d gone to Dana Kaye’s Literati thing on Thursday night, had a few beers there. Then we decided to try this new pizza joint I’d heard good things about on Saturday, and the good things were justified, but I did make a bit of a pig out of myself. And then there was the Super Bowl party on Sunday — some more beers, some more bad-for-you food.  So I have to take the long view here. My weight has been creeping up for years, probably mostly because of weeks like this. And if I hadn’t been tromping away on the treadmill, if not for the 35+ miles I turned in last week, I likely would have been up way more than two-tenths of a pound.

So I indulged a bit, so what? The trick is to keep at it – the tread-desk, not the indulging. And maybe to cut back a little extra on the food this week.

One other thing. A body is not made of legs alone. There was a time when I was a jock. Back in high school, our football coach had a special fondness in his heart for anybody that could knock out 100 pushups at one time. I used to be able to do that. And pushups are a damn good exercise – they work your core, your arms, your chest, your shoulders. I’ve been told that, if you were going to pick one exercise to do, pushups are the one.  I can’t do 100 anymore or anywhere close to that. But I can do 15 whenever I think of it. So I’m tossing in the occassional set of pushups. When I’m microwaving the water for my tea, I knock off a set. Everytime I get off the treadmill I knock off a set. Before bed and when I wake up I knock off a set. I’m doing 60 a day, anyway, maybe more now and then. Can’t hurt, I figure.

So, not a banner week, but I’m sticking with it.  See ya’ll in a few days.

Day 14 – Tromping through Reagan country

It's Ronald Reagan Day on the ol' blog

The Tread-Desk Diaries – Day 14

Miles Walked - 7.1

Speed – 2.3 MPH

Incline - 3 degrees

Total Miles – 67.2

Nothing much to report. Seven miles is the new goal, and I made it without too much trouble. Had some calls in the afternoon and, as I’ve noted, walking on the treadmill generates a little too much background noise for me to be on the speakerphone. So, come 5:00 PM, I still owed the treadmill another mile. I didn’t feel like working anymore at the moment, but Pogo Scabble is a great cure for treadmill boredom.

I’m into Whiteside County on my virtual trip now – the last county in Illinois. Then it’s across the Mississippi and into Iowa. Oh, that’s right. When I hit Lee county, I said there was something historical to talk about. If you open up today’s pic, you’ll see I passed just south of Dixon, Illinois – the boyhood home of Ronald Reagan. He was actually born in Tampico, Illinois, which is in Whiteside, the county I’ve just entered. Dixon is a nice little town, nice little white frame house. I’ve been through it. You kind of get the sense of where his mom and apple pie ideas of America might have come from. If you poke around town a bit, you can read how he worked as a lifeguard and pulled some number of drowning folk out of the Rock River. 

I’ll have to read up on Whiteside County, see if there’s anything else to report.

Days 10-13: Returns from the early precincts look promising

Sneaking up on the Mississippi. Wanna hear me sing Ol' Man River?

The Tread-Desk Diaries, Days 10 – 13

Miles walked – 16.3

Speed – 2.3 MPH

Incline – 3 percent

Total miles – 60.1

I know, peeps, getting behind in my blogging. This daily business, I may not be able to keep it up. On the blogging I mean. I’m still cranking out the miles on the ol’ tread-desk.

So let’s see, 7.3 on Friday, 9.0 on Monday. Once again, on the weekend, I didn’t do squat. It’s becoming apparent that the tread-desk is pretty much a weekday deal for me, so I’m upping my daily goal to seven miles, Monday through Friday. That keeps me on pace for the 35 miles a week I originally planned. That way I don’t have to do any more math.

Oh yeah, the weekly weigh in. As of last night, 240, so down another pound this week. (Actually, we’ve got one of those fancy-ass scales that reads out to the tenth of a pound, and, in reality, I was down 1.3 for the week, but I’m rounding to the nearest pound. The only thing I’ve ever found the fancy-ass tenth-of-a-pound reading good for was a before-and-after when I felt a mammoth dump coming on. You know, just out of perverse curiosity. And no, I’m not telling.)

We’re almost two weeks in, so a quick math check – back when I started out on this, I did a little Googling and back-of-the-envelope arithmetic. I figured that five miles a day at 2 MPH came out to about 460 calories a day. At two a day, I’ve got just over 12 days of miles in, which would be 5,620 calories. You need 3,500 calories to burn a pound, so I should only be down around 1.5 instead of 2.3. But the calories number I used is for a much lighter human being doing 2 MPH on a flat surface. I’m a pretty large human being, and I’ve been walking at 2.2 and then 2.3 MPH for most of the time, and at a 3 degree incline, so that probably accounts for the difference.

But the thing is, the math was in the ballpark, and the results are bearing it out. It’s working. It’s actually working a little ahead of schedule.

Day 9 – The “C” word

Damn, I'm like halfway out of the state

The Tread-Desk Diaries, Day 9

Miles walked – 7.3

Speed – 2.2

Incline – 3%

Total miles – 43.8

I cranked the mileage goal up to six this week, and the last couple of days I’ve been cracking seven. Feet are fine, legs are fine, but there is this one thing. See, my daughter is home this week, and she’s a delicate little princess who simply can’t tolerate the thermostat being down at 65. So she keeps cranking it up to , I dunno, 80 or something. So I get a little sweaty.

Which would be no big deal, some extra laundry maybe, except for this. When the clothes get sweaty, they tend to bunch up in some, eh, sensitive areas. And that leads to the “C” word – chafing. Once you get a good chafe going, then you’re waddling around like John Wayne after a six-week cattle drive. You can kiss walkies goodbye for a while. 

So what’s the solution? It starts with understanding the whole “cotton is rotten” deal. Ask any runner, they’ll wax poetic about it for a while. Seems cotton just soaks up sweat and holds it in a tight embrace against your tender little dermis instead of wicking it away to rejoin the atmosphere. Your skin rubs back and forth on the bunched-up glob of wet fabric, and evil ensues. Problem being, try finding any underwear that isn’t made out of cotton, at least that isn’t made for women and that doesn’t cost a fortune.

You can try commando, but I’m usually wearing jeans. That’s still cotton, but of a more abrasive variety to begin with, a little sandpapery on the ol’ fiddly bits even before it’s sweaty.

But I’ve discovered the perfect solution. Lounge pants, as I learned they are called on the Twitters. Basically a fancy name for PJ bottoms. Loose, soft, fleecy — the boys can hang out in there unchaperoned without any trouble. But I’m gonna need to by a few more pairs. They do get a little stinky by the end of the day.

TMI, I know, but c’mon. I said I’d blog about this every day for a freakin’ year, or until I break 200 pounds. I gotta write about something. You signed up for TMI. So shut up.

Day 8 – Accidental mileage

The journey crosses into the unpeople expanse of Lee County

The Tread-Desk Diaries, Day 7

Miles walked – 7.2

Speed – 2.2

Incline – 3%

Total miles – 36.5

On into Lee County, where, my research indicates, nothing ever happened. Not a goddamn thing. So I can’t play the history card to fill up blog space. (OK, somebody out there of a certain political persuasion is about to blow a gasket at this point. And I’ll get to it, OK? The thing with Dixon? Just relax.) Fortunately, I have an actual tread-desk observation to pass on, kill some time.

You’ll note I stretched it out a bit yesterday – cracked the seven-mile mark for the first time. I wasn’t looking to, exactly, it’s just I had an emergency project come in for the day job late in the afternoon and I was up on the ol’ treadmill editing away on that when I hit the six-mile mark. Here’s the funny thing – it felt like more work to stop, turn off the treadmill and switch my laptop back over to the desk than it did to just keep stomping along until I was done with the article. So I finished up in situ, and, by then, I’d put in another mile and change.

That right there shows the beauty of this whole tread-desk thing.

But there are consequences to putting in a 4.5 mile stretch all at once, especially when you’ve got whiny folks in the house who insist that setting the thermostat at 65 degrees is inhuman. I’ll touch on those consequences tomorrow.