New Discoveries

So, we have moved on from the treadmill updates. It has now become a part of my training regimen. I have even added myself to my wife's "health club" membership so I can run whenever I need to. It all still grosses me out and the list of shit I hate about "health clubs" grows or is reinforced every time I go (many times it is reinforced by stuff I do, but that is neither here nor there.) Anyway.

What "new discoveries" do you speak of, you ask? I have discovered that I am trimming down with all this new activity. I am not really "losing weight" - at least not that I can say for certain because I have a tendency to weigh myself when I am totally dehydrated and that is never accurate. "How are you so sure you are 'trimming down?'" you ask. It has nothing to do with how my clothes fit or comments from other people. You know, let me walk you through my discovery.

At night as I am getting ready to go to bed I probably do the same thing most everyone else does - take off my clothes, put on some pajamas of some sort, take a fist full of pills (whatever is lying around or has colors that match my pajamas) and brush my teeth. (I probably pee somewhere in there, too, followed by very thorough hand washing, but you aren't really interested in that.) I typically just wear pajama pants - I got these really kick-ass ones at Costco for like ten bucks, but I digress. So, as I am brushing my teeth I am staring at myself in the mirror and thinking the usual guy thoughts, "Damn, I really should do some 'manscaping,'" "I can't believe how gray my chest hair is getting," "Is one of my nipples higher than the other?" "Why do I even have nipples?" And as I am lost in my thoughts I start the absentminded old-guy scratching and picking. Inevitably this leads to me swirling a finger around inside my belly button. I usually have some lint that has accumulated throughout the day, so it tends to be a productive endeavor. No one wants a dirty belly button.

On many of these occasions I ponder the risk of sticking my finger too far in and poking a hole in my stomach and then wondering if my guts would spew out like a fountain of strawberry jelly or if I would just start to fly around the room backwards like someone letting the air out of a balloon. But recently I realized that my finger was "bottoming out" a lot sooner than it had in the recent past. I wondered, "Is this true? Is my belly button filling with lint that I have been inadvertently packing in there for years? No, it looks clean. Is my belly button trying to escape? No, that is just silly. Does this mean that my belly button is no longer the deep well of oral hygiene distracted fun it once was?" Keep in mind that as I am pondering all these questions I am still brushing my teeth and my finger is still in my belly button (just in case it is trying to escape.)

Then it hit me. My belly button has not changed! The flabdomen material surrounding it has begun to decrease! I have tested this hypothesis over many evenings and I do believe that I am losing some of that frustrating spare tire (now when I say "spare tire" I am referring to more of a spare road bike tire or, probably more accurately, a mountain bike tire rather than a car tire or a truck tire or, heaven forbid, one of those big dumptruck tires.) It looks like all this activity might be paying off. It might mean I need to buy new clothes again. I hope I can find some kick-ass jeans at Costco.

Ah, the F*cking Holidays

Don't get me wrong. I don't mind the holidays to a certain extent. Past that threshold though I am decidedly un-festive.

Part of the reason for a "festive threshold" is the amount of time I get to "enjoy" with my children. They have the whole week off for Thanksgiving along with two full weeks for Christmas. It tends to be a lot of kid time for me. It goes better if there are activities, but I am not one to plan so far ahead so I get stuck and the kids end up at home with me doing nothing. This time was a little better.

The first weekend F had a birthday party to attend. We got his friend the requisite Lego kit as a present and then we had F make a birthday card. F claims his favorite subject in school is art - I don't believe it. I also don't think he has a future writing for Hallmark.



Thanksgiving is always a "festive" start to the holiday season. We have been hosting since we were first married so he have the whole show pretty well down and we don't deviate much from the script. (Mostly we stay to script because change tends to make A a little "nervous.")

This year was pretty uneventful, except for the one brief blow-up by me and the subsequent silent treatment from A (a marked improvement from past years.)

The table looked much better than last year.


Last year.




This year. (Great job, honey.)

This year I convinced A that we should do the turkey on the grill. Last year, when we had two turkeys we did one in the oven and one on the grill. People really liked the grilled turkey and I like to do stuff on the grill so hey, why not again this year?

I prepared the bird by stuffing with onions, leeks, shallots, garlic, carrots and apples. Then, the piece de resistance, I took Nueske's bacon and shoved six strips under the skin on the breasts and laid a few more strips on each of the legs. While watching Martha Stewart (who generally I abhor) on the Today show on Wednesday, she provided a wonderful tip - take cheese clothe and soak it in two sticks of melted butter and a bottle of white wine, then lay it like a blanket over the turkey covering the whole bird - no need to baste. It worked like a charm. You take it off for the last hour of cooking and the turkey turns a golden brown.

I set the coals up for indirect heat and put a pan of water and some of the leftover turkey stuffings in the middle.



Kingsford makes this awesome Hickory charcoal that gives it a wonderful flavor.



While the turkey was cooking away people were arriving. My aunt comes and always brings this great pheasant dip.



Each year she claims it's made with a different type of bird. This year it was allegedly made with Ivory Billed Woodpecker. Apparently, Ivory Billed Woodpecker is kind of spicy and really good.

After a little over four hours on the grill the thermometer hit 180 degrees and we were done. RIGHT. ON. TIME! I am very proud.



How beautiful is that!?



And then right before I carved it.



Then, after the carving was done.





And, on the platter.



F said a little prayer he wrote in school.



The kids were exiled to the kitchen table.



And then we ate. (No pictures - you don't want to see my family cramming food down their gullets and I didn't want to put down my fork to grab the camera.)

On Friday we went over to my sister's house for dinner. No one wanted leftovers so we opted for Chinese food. I, again, ate my rapidly increasing body weight in lo-mein and sesame chicken. At the end of the meal we cracked open the requisite fortune cookies. This was mine.



How incredibly accurate. (And it's even better if you add "in bed" after it.)

Miraculous Weight Loss

It is damn hot and humid here in Minneapolis. Even at 5:30 AM. We did our usual Tuesday run - my total distance was 10.75 miles. We were not running very fast as it was so muggy and warm, but we were still working. I am a heavy sweater. How heavy? I drank 24 oz. of Accelerade before I went out and we stopped for water 3 times during the run. When I got home I was 188 lbs. Yesterday I was 195. Needless to say I am drinking every liquid I can ingest. It is fun to see my weight under 190 even if it is misleading. 

Fatty, Fatty, Two-by-Four...

How do I train for a marathon, triathlons, run a fast half-marathon and STILL gain weight? No, I haven't been eating Oreos (or any cookies for that matter). I had my first bowl of ice cream in about two months last night (not very satisfying - don't know if I will go back to that well.) I don't think I am eating particularly calorie-dense foods. I don't drink, don't drink soda. I eat breakfast and snack moderately. I just get so hungry especially mid-afternoon. If anyone has any advice, please let me know. As I have said before, I am not looking forward to dragging this extra weight around numerous race courses this summer. Maybe I just need to take Peyton Manning's advice. (I guess that guy was right, I am a little bigger than expected. Son of a bitch!)

"Not Small"

Yesterday after the race AS, the husband of MS, tells me this story:

"I was standing there with MP's husband when you came by. I said, 'Hey, here comes Todd,' and he said, "Are you sure that's him?' and I said, 'Yeah, that's Todd,' and he said, 'Geeze, I thought he was thinner."

When I saw MP's husband I threatened to punch him in the nuts. His explanation was that he didn't realize how "muscular" I was. Uh, huh. Yep. Muscular.

Today at playground duty, I am talking with one of the mom's and F comes up and says "Hi" and then runs off and the mom notices how big he's getting and then we talk about kids growing and then she says to me, "Well, your not a small guy." And I am thinking to myself, "Did you just call me fat, you lard ass?" 

So, what's the deal? I guess I have to lay off the cheese and bacon and train twice as much. (Do these jeans make my butt look big?)