Intermittent Fasting

So..... two weeks into the 2012 Fat Dad's six pack challenge and I've gone from leading week 1 to trailing third in week 2. It's been an interesting week. Last weekend I stumbled across a website (http://rippedbody.jp/) that in turn lead me to another (http://www.leangains.com/) and an introduction to the concept of intermittent fasting. See above sites for more details as they can explain it far better than I.

Aside from the potential results (gaining muscle whilst losing fat and only training weights three times a week), what appealed to me was that the idea of an 8 hour eating window wasn't a million miles off of my current eating habits. I've never been one for breakfast so the idea of fasting for a 16 hour period then getting all of my food in in between the hours of 1pm and 9pm seemed do-able. Likewise the idea of training compound lifts 3 times a week suits me down to the ground.

I've always been anti-dieting and always viewed it as simply starving or depriving oneself of food but this approach seems more accommodating. However, I have been taken aback this week. In short the idea is I over-eat on training days with increased protein, high carbs and low fat. Then the next day, a rest day, I deficit my intake and go for protein but with low carbs and a more normal levels of fat. Seems straight forward enough.

In the past a normal work day eating pattern for me would be something like. Lots of coffee for breakfast, soup and a slice of bread for lunch, family dinner and then settle into the sofa with alcohol and crisps. Doesn't seem much but given that I've been gaining weight suggests that I have been eating more than my share of daily calories (approx. 2000).

So what soon hit me is that if you try and eat the appropriate levels of macro-nutrients (protein, carbs, fat) in the targeted proportions it equates to a lot of food. Most days I struggled to eat 1600 calories worth let alone my training day target of 2000+. They say 1g of protein or carbs = 4 calories, whereas 1g of fat = 9. So when you start watching your fat and lowering it you have to eat twice as much protein or carbs to replace it.

Case in point, I am struggling to come up with a 1000 calorie post-workout meal. A Burger King double whopper with cheese is 976 calories but has 61g of fat which accounts for 549 of its calories. On a training day I am only allowed about 30g of fat for the day. To put some perspective on it - 2 slices of rye bread toast, a large can of light choice baked beans, 2 turkey breast steaks, a four egg white omelette with low fat mature cheddar cheese, mushrooms, and tomatoes comes to 936 calories and only 11g of fat.

Seems the main problem I'm going to have dieting is eating so much!

Billy Nomates

Fed up with living in my box, an unsuccessful day at work, and my unsuccessful attempt to convince my wife by text that I was Mr Grey,  I needed to get out of the house last night. I'd told myself earlier in the day that I would go for a run. Middle age spread has been setting in a bit of late as my metabolism, that had once allowed me to scoff at dieters and exercisers, seemed to have gone into early retirement (probably about the only part of me that will ever experience early retirement) and was now just leaving an advertising hoarding for Pirelli. 


The weather was having one of it's 'special' days. It was twenty degrees, the sun was shining, the rain torrential, and the hail stones were the size of M&M's. Yes, it's British summertime at it's finest. Given all that, my motivation to run was on par with wanting to take a shower in Auschwitz. I was feeling less than inspired and started to toy with a question that has existed since time began. Exercise or pint?

There was a definite lean towards pint and I had pretty much concluded that this was the decisive action to be taken. Prepped to leave it suddenly dawned on me. It was quiz night. Bollocks! This meant the pub would be packed with over enthusiastic semi-retired/professional quiz teams who arrive early for their weekly pre-quiz treat of a meal leaving not a spare seat in the house. Furthermore once the quiz started the pub would be echoing with the voice of the quiz master booming over the tannoy. This is of course made worse by the fact the quiz master, a lad far too young to be having such a task in his social diary, falls under the spell of the microphone and starts thinking he's funny. He's not.

With this mind I sadly and slowly start to dig out my running gear and haul my ass and beer gut out of the door. Fortunately, the rain has now stopped and I start my runny, joggy, walky thing. I decide 5km will be adequate for a night I just don't want to run (which these days is most of them). It's tough and I can't quite work out whether I'm struggling mentally or physically, probably both. Every step of the way I just want to stop.

Whilst plodding on I wonder what happened to the me from last year, the me that ran 10km three times a week in under 45 minutes and that was on the days I wasn't doing weights. Yep, there was a big step between 40 and 41. I keep going knowing that if I stop I won't get started again and that having now run half the distance walking back in the rapidly cooling air was equally unattractive. Eventually I get home.

"Good run?", my wife asks.
"No!", I reply trudging up the stairs to the shower.

Standing in the shower I conclude that quiz night or not I've earned a pint. An earlier Facebook post fishing for pub company had failed and so I wandered up there on my own. On arrival I was pleased to see one bar stool left and stuck myself on it. The barmaid tried her best to be social but it was quiz night and she was busy.

So there I sat, Billy Nomates, at the bar supping at my glass. Of course I needed something to do other than gaze into mid air do I pulled out my mobile, logged on to the free wi-fi and browsed to BBC News. There you have it, I was a modern interpretation of the old guy sat in the pub reading the newspaper and you know what, it wasn't so bad. Head tucked down reading my phone everyone just left me to it and it was in many ways quite meditative. My own little bubble, mentally answering the quiz questions (which is always easier when you're not actually playing), reading the news, and supping my pint. I realise now that when you see these old men sat on their own in the pub, maybe they came there to be alone, together.

The Discipline Route

Part of every mid life ... re-evaluation must include trying not to look middle aged. A such I've tried to ease myself back into running lately. I'd managed a few 5km jogs but they had not been easy. So tonight I came up with a plan and convinced myself that if I ran a longer distance then when I next run 5km it will seem easy. Or that was the plan at least ...

I set off at a purposefully slower pace and decided a different route would help break the monotony. I wasn't quite sure which route so just headed off in a different direction. All went well for the first kilometre but as I neared the 2km mark fate dealt me an unexpected hand. When running I tend to switch off and run on auto-pilot and just as I approached a junction there was a family of walkers so to avoid them I veered off to the left.

Being in auto-pilot my subconscious mind must have recognised one of my old running routes and without even thinking (quite literally) I ventured off down this route. I must have run another 500m before it dawned on me what I'd done. I'd taken the 'discipline route'. I nicknamed this for one reason only. There are no short cuts back, at all, whatsoever. The only short route back is to physically turnaround and run the same footpath back which definitely feels like defeat.

The key reason for the lack of short cuts is that it runs along side a canal surrounded by private land. The next point at which you can turn around is a bridge at the 5km mark. The other thing you should know about this route is that it is a 10km run. Once you do hit the 5km mark the shortest route back is well, 5km. There are no short cuts.

Now 2.5km in my legs are still quite fresh, the view by the canal in the evening is beautiful and so I convince myself that I can do it. But there is another issue. I had promised my wife I wouldn't be late as I had to bath the kids before bedtime. This meant I had to try and up my pace and at least make it back with an hour of my start time.

I had further failed to factor in the recent bad weather. 5km of this route was cross-country. The ground under foot was wet, muddy, slippery and continually trying twist my ankles. On top of the that the constant showers and sunshine had meant the grass, weeds, stinging nettles and brambles were growing into a jungle. 4km in and this was beginning look like a very bad idea.

I could either turn back and face the route of shame, back through the overgrowth and mud, or plough on the remaining 6km knowing that after approximately 1-2km the ground would become good as I would be back to running on asphalt roads and footpaths. Pressing on the overgrowth was such that I couldn't even see the path. The nettles had now stung my lower legs so much that I couldn't feel the stings any more.

I'm feeling fatigued and as I cross the bridge at the 5km mark my brain is reminding me I have same to do again. As I get back to the first road my body is starting to feel the pains of my efforts. My right knee is beginning to ache but more so my left hip. Now I'm not sure what that's all about. It's been apparent a few times lately but it's nothing I ever used to get through exercise. 

My aching hip makes me think of old people talking of their hip replacements but surely even at 41 I'm too young for that. I then remember a lady I once worked with who at 28 was told she would soon need a hip replacement. I often fantasised about just what a lady could've been up to to wear her hips out by such a young age!

Plodding on the nice lady on my mobile phone/GPS running app is pointing out that my pace is slowing considerably but as I look up I'm now facing a long slow hill and any thoughts of upping my pace are swiftly dispensed with. As I round the top I convince myself that it's all down hill from there. Of course it's not but that's what I'm telling myself.

As GPS lady tells me I've run 8km the aches are now definitely becoming pains. My hip is throbbing and my knee is struggling. I'm well and truly fatigued but know I can't be late back. GPS lady updates me once more and I suddenly realise my mental maths have been wrong and I'm actually not far off from my target time. Perhaps the pain and discomfort is just making it feel slower.

Inspired by this I try to raise my pace to get myself back on target. I convince myself that the moment GPS lady says 10km I'm going to stop the pain and limp/walk the rest of the way home. Panting up the next long slope I can't hear her next update but I'm guessing she said 9km. I keep pushing telling myself by the time I get to the park it will be 10km and I can walk the rest. I put on a final sprint to the park and just as I arrive I hear the GPS voice starting and the relief it brings.

"Your total distance is 9.33km."

What the f*ck!? She was meant to say 10km, the bitch! Mentally I've finished and lady muck is telling me I've got more to go. The pain now feels twice as bad as I try to keep my legs and mind going. It must be 10km by the time I get to the parade of shops. I tell myself. 


I knew at the outset this run would be as much mental as physical and that was before my evil subconscious took me down the discipline route. My hip and knee are throbbing but now there's something else. My nipple feel like they've been doing the lambada with a cheese grater. Joggers nipple. Tits!

I get to the shops and not trusting lady muck I get the phone out and look at the display still not 10km. Arse. I'm hobbling now and trying to hold my shirt off of my nipples which only serves to make it look like I'm trying to convince people I have breasts. My house MUST be 10km, I've run it before and it was definitely 10km. As I take the final corner the screen is still not my friend. I realise in my frustration I cut across the park instead of going around it.

I reach the path of my house. 9.8km. I've always prided myself on my mental strength and the ability to push myself but I'm done. 57 minutes and I'm not late but 200m is just a bridge too far. I ache, I'm in pain, I'm throbbing and I can't help feeling it's gonna feel a whole lot worse tomorrow!

Want, Need, Would like

One of my annoyances in life is hearing what people want. Not because I have a problem with what they want. I have a problem with their use of the word want. All too commonly, what they mean is 'would like' and there in lies the problem. If you 'need' something then it is a necessity. If you 'want' something then it is desired. If you 'would like' something then all you are doing is expressing a desire in a non-committal manner. 

It reminds of a story, I cannot remember the exact details but as with all good urban legends I remember the punchline. The story is of a young man who 'wants', he seeks the advice of a mentor who 'has' and the young man repeatedly keeps asking 'how'. Finally, the mentor leads him into the sea and holds the young mans head underwater. At first the young man is confused, then after a few seconds he tries to lift his head out of the water. The mentor resists and continues to hold the young mans head underwater. Getting more desperate the young tries to force his head up but to no avail. Eventually as he is running out of breath he starts to flail and lash out wildly at the mentor until eventually the mentor yields and the young man is able to come up for air. Confused and angry he asks the mentor why he was trying to drown him. The mentor replies along the lines of "only when you want something as much as you wanted to breathe just then, will you find a way and do what needs to done to achieve it'. Or something like that ...

When people tell me that they 'want' something in life I always want to ask them what they are doing about it. What is there plan? What steps are they taking towards achieving it? There is the crux of my frustration. The answer most commonly eludes to 'nothing'. What they mean is 'would like' or put another way, they'd take it if someone handed it to them on a plate. When someone 'would like' something it leans more towards desire but without the compulsion to get off one's arse and do something about it. 

Being honest about what one needs, wants and would like leads to contentment. I know that if I really needed or wanted something then I'd be doing something about it. If it's just something I would like then it's probably not all that important to me.

Simple disciplines practised daily

I think Jim Rohn might own that one.

Having determined a need to change my level of thinking, a need to say yes more, a need to consider reasons 'I should' do things as opposed to 'should not', how to go about it? I mean we're talking about a behavioural change, a change of habits, a change of spots! (Cue eating elephants and journey of a thousand miles quotes).

Changing habits and ingrained behaviour takes discipline, not something I've demonstrated much of in recent years unless Pringle eating is becoming an endurance sport. I mean let's face it that's why people go to fitness classes or have personal trainers. It's not that they don't want to get fit or lose weight. It's because they lack the discipline to DO what it takes, the others just walk on the treadmill for half an hour and tell all their friends how they go to the gym regularly but "just can't seem to shift the weight".

Which brings me on to my first challenge. I'm getting fat, I've being saying yes a lot to another beer on the sofa to wash down that other tube of Pringles I said yes to then popped and couldn't stop. Now we don't want any dramatic changes, I don't want to slip into crisis. So I'll probably still say yes to them but will try to say yes to the odd run in between.

Ok, so as a life less ordinary goes, saying yes to a 5km jog once or twice a week isn't exactly earth shattering (excluding the impact from my slightly over-weightedness). There is some logic there though. One, I need to boost my energy levels to fight off the general lethargy and two, I think I'll need some degree of fitness to do some less ordinary things.