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A `Weighty' Matter

POSTED April 03, 2011
BY Rick Wilson
Twitter: @scribewilson


                                                A `Weighty' Matter

           I’ve got to be honest, I don’t know if my buddy Gaffney threw me under the bus or did me half a favor. It’s this whole back in better shape thing he put up on our rapidly growing, must-read website (nothing wrong with a little plug is there?).

            My wife and I had already said after Christmas we were going on cellulite control in the new year. She is doing a great job. I’ve been kind of spinning my wheels. I’m doing better than before but I still feel like the old one carrot stick forward, three Dunkin Munchkins back scenario is playing its way out sometimes.

            So this is pressure. I already have enough pressure on my belt buckle so I’m not sure I need anymore. However, there is some time planned on the beach this summer and I would prefer not to be harpooned or need a double wide umbrella to get some shade. Heck, how will I look in my speedo?

            There are difficulties starting with eating habits. Everybody tells me that breakfast is the most important meal but then they ruined the whole thing when they told home fires, sausage, bacon  and a Krispy Cream donut are not included. Talk about taking all of the fun out of it.

            I guess they want you to be able to get up from the table without a forklift en route to work. My problem is actually that I don’t eat breakfast. There was a time in my life when a couple of Newports to warm up the lungs and a lot of java was good enough. The Newports went bye-bye a couple of decades ago because I was partial to living, but I still like the coffee.

            I’d like to say that the problem is that my wife doesn’t cook breakfast for me. I’d also like to live to write another column so I won’t say that. The problem is that it isn’t in my routine and I’m just not hungry. In my wife’s words – Get over it.

            So lunch time rolls around and it is one of those fine school lunches and a milk. A little soggy tuna and I’m raring to go.  I actually eat okay at lunch, staying away from most of the gourmet meals they serve like this beauty of last week that included hot dogs, baked beans and fries. I heard Richard Simmons crying when I saw that one.  The wieners also looked like they could do you serious harm.

            The problem magnifies itself when I get home about 3:00 or so. I’ve got the pickies. You know, I’m heading for my son’s gold fish, the cheese sticks, Thanksgiving Day’s baked ham. Okay, that’s long gone but I’m still thinking about it.

            My wife cooks supper and actually makes sure I don’t eat the whole Sheppard’s pie or three plates of pasta and six glasses of milk. But again, the urge sets in about 8:30. I’m trying pickles now but be honest, pickles or beef jerky. The jerky fills my soul.

            If I keep eating it, I will be down to a size 32 pants mainly because I won’t be able to get my pants much above my knees which may cause other problems.  Time to throw the schedule in here.

            Covering sports is like saying just shoot me now. Late nights, goofy hours. During the football and basketball season when deadlines loom, the 11 p.m. grinder is routine. You know, a little pastrami, maybe a burger. Glorious going down and then it sits there like Charles Barkley during the NCAA Tournament.

            One morning my wife called Life Star to get me out of bed. Not good to eat late at night. Plus sometimes the good folks think you are casing the joint when you walk in late. Again that is another story.

             By the way, it kind of irritates me when people are wearing a smaller pant size than me but have nine inches of gut hanging out and they need a doctor to locate and surgically remove their belt buckle. If I could only get me pants up past my ankles I would be wearing my son’s pants too. I’m just saying.

             So eating habits need to be dealt with. Another part of that problem is that so much what we should be eating tastes like yesterday’s dirty socks and no I don’t what they taste like but it can’t be good. Whole wheat toast, whole grain pasta?  Limited mashers. Let it end now.

             The other part of the equation is the exercise part. Understand I get tired in the layup line now. In fact I’m all in favor of eliminating the layup line. Let’s just conserve our air and pull a muscle when the game starts.

              Walking is the obvious answer here and the easiest because you don’t need anything to do it except white socks. You can’t walk with black socks.

              There are dangers here, a heart attack being one of them. I was walking the other day in the rain and some car hit a puddle and blasted me and my UConn jacket.  I wasn’t exactly singing in the rain after that one and the jacket is now being used as a grease rag.

              The other day I was walking and former Thomaston High basketball great Amy Matthews came out of her house. She said, “my kids just came in and said there is some stranger wandering around.”

              So now I’m a suspected criminal. Thank god I wrote several stories about Amy during her playing days. I had visions of the cops coming and the local police chief saying, “Book’m Dano.”

              I also came home with a pulled hamstring. Former Torrington High trainer Mike McKenna told me at one time that I had tight hammies. Now I injure them walking.  Let’s be honest walking can be more dangerous than beneficial.

             Dogs, crazy drivers, former students trying to run you over or giving you the one-gun salute. This is healthy?

             I do go inside during the winter months but the treadmill holds its own challenges. Being a Phi Beta Kappa, I tried taking my sweatshirt off once while on the running treadmill. Not a good move.

              I didn’t get if off quick enough fell and nearly impaled myself on a rack nearby. It was ugly. The treadmill was still running, I was stuck and some guy was laughing his behind off behind me. Now I use the elyptical, it’s safer.

              So there is pressure here. Gaffney has his own concerns. First of all he delivers potato chips. Now there is a good job for weight loss.  Let’s see, one mile three bags, one mile, three bags. He could be on the first diet that leads to a spot on the biggest loser.

               A lot to exaggerations here mixed in with some truths. Actually I don’t find walking that dangerous and am making slow progress. I am not eating at 11 p.m. and try to save the really good meals for the weekend. I also do not wear a speedo. I know that visual was killing you. I do think Gaffney might. He barrowed it from Tiscia.

              But man, this is pressure. Instead of rising to the occasion I’m trying to deflate to the situation. But if you see me and want to buy me a Slim Jim I might be able to fit it in.  Now, back to my exercise.  

    

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