Out of the ZONE

I usually keep to myself when I am at the gym. Most people work out with headphones/ear buds anyway so striking up a conversation isn’t usually feasible.

As a NASM Certified Personal Trainer there are certain things I notice when it comes to form. Whether or not I can remember what they mean is a different story. On Sunday I saw this guy performing body weight squats. He was a BIG DUDE, like he could have been a former football player. I watched as his heels elevated each time he came into the bottom of his squat. Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything as I personally do not appreciate unsolicited advice...but he and his buddy seemed nice enough so I started talking to him about mobility and suggested that he widen his stance just a little bit.

Guess what? It worked!

I left feeling good that I had helped someone but even better that I had stepped out of my comfort zone and initiated the conversation.

Lately I have come to the realization that my world is getting smaller. My goal this month is to do one thing a week that is outside of my comfort zone. Hopefully it will encourage me to open a few doors that have been closed.

SEVEN

another trip around the sun without you

some days i miss you

some days i really miss you

one thing that is certain is that your memory inspires me to be a better person...and your anniversary reminds me how much i am failing at that task

there is nothing i want more than to make you proud 

i have been struggling

i feel trapped in these four walls

i am a creature of habit...my routine is suffocating

how can i change this?

how can i expand and grow?

when will i finally stop allowing the number on the scale to define my self worth?

i think that is the only way things are going to change

a box full of memories

Over the past several years my parents have been assisting the neighbors with tasks such as grocery shopping and yard work. Tom was in his 90s and suffered from dementia that had become increasingly more severe over the years. It had gotten to the point where he did not leave the house aside from routine health visits and his wife, Fran, who is in her late 80s could no longer safely care for him. She had reached the decision that it was time for both of them to move into assisted living. They would be at the same facility but he would be in the memory care unit. She could visit him daily. Tom did not adjust well to the move and his health rapidly declined. He passed away in March. 

My parents have been helping Fran's family clean out her house now that the house has been sold. Tom was an avid photographer. There were a few cameras and lenses that no one wanted. My dad knows I'm always looking for a side hustle so he brought them over to see if I could sell them on eBay. I opened up the box to find a couple of beat up camera cases and dozens of cardboard envelopes containing photos. They were pictures of birds, pictures of trees, pictures from trips, family parties. I felt like I was watching his life story unfold. Now, these pictures were nothing more than unwanted items in a box and after I sold what was of “value” they would be discarded in the trash. 

Thinking about this made me sad. It also served as a reminder to get out there and live life instead of taking pictures of it. The best memories are the ones we hold in our heads and heart. They cannot be captured on film. 

Do you believe in Matt-gic?

The past week has been mentally and emotionally draining. I had three phone consultations with nutrition coaches, each of which lasted well over an hour. Those conversations touched on some of the things I have struggled with emotionally since the loss of my brother in 2016. I remarked that he would be so disappointed in me right now. That was one of the driving factors for wanting to make a change. It is time to start living again. It is time to start allowing myself to have enjoyable experiences. It is time to start recognizing that I deserve happiness.

My final phone consultation was on Monday evening and this woman ended up being my choice. Our conversation finished waaaaay past my bedtime so I quickly brushed my teeth, turned off the lights and crawled into bed. A few minutes later the room was lit and the light switch was in the “on” position. 

I don’t know what you believe or think but I know for a fact that was Matt. 

In that moment, the lights came on for me both figuratively and literally.

Rest and Digest

The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade was on TV and my mom was crying. Thanksgiving marks the start of a rough stretch of months, the culmination of which is February 22nd, my brother’s birthday.

My parent’s had dinner at my cousin’s house. I spent the day in the company of animals...scooping litter boxes, walking dogs and feeding my furry friends.

Friday it poured rain, but the sun was shining on Saturday so I treated  my mom to a cup of Dunkin' Donuts coffee and we went to the cemetery.  I asked if she wanted to pray and so we did...Hail Mary, Our Father, Glory Be...we said them out loud and at times her voice trailed off, full of emotion...I hugged her and told her that I love her.

On Sunday I had a surprise for her. McNaughton’s in Cherry Hill had resurrected the old Gaudio’s (G Boys) display that she took us to when we were kids. We walked through twice and then we saw Santa. It was perfect.

Right now my parents are in Texas visiting my nephew. I am thankful that his birthday is in the beginning of December because it provides them with a bright spot in an otherwise dark time.

Their absence has left me alone with these thoughts to digest. Tonight I was in the kitchen making dinner. The tree was lit and I was playing the Frank Sinatra Christmas album. It was Matt’s favorite. It made me sad for a minute, but then I felt him there standing next to me. I thought about all of the holidays that we stood in that kitchen together…so many memories...good ones.

a moment of clarity

In June I sustained a foot injury which required me to take time off from running. Inactivity and the fact that I had to cancel my first vacation (the Race the Cog event in NH) had me feeling pretty miserable.

Older and wiser, I took a conservative approach to healing and by mid-July I was back in stride. That is when August decided to lay a giant turd. So far I've had strep throat, covid and got stung in the face by a bee. The air conditioner in my rental house broke. A pipe in my rental house broke. Illness and finances prompted me to cancel my two remaining vacations. While I consider myself resilient and mentally tough I'd rather not be tested to find my breaking point.

Covid has made my lungs feel like they are being assaulted any time I try to put forth a strenuous cardiovascular effort. As a result, I've spent a lot of time walking. It gives me time to think and in that sense it is therapeutic.

I've come to the realization that not much has changed about my body since the foot injury in June. I've dialed back the frequency, duration and intensity of my exercise which has been extremely challenging.

Tell me to workout for two hours at maximum heart rate and I will do so with pleasure. Tell me to take the day off and go to the beach with my mom to indulge in pancakes and I get anxiety.

I ate the pancakes and lived to tell the tale...after all, you are reading this.

one foot in front of the other

Not many people will understand why this picture is such a big deal. To say that Covid created the perfect storm would be an understatement. I’ve struggled severely with mental health issues for the past two years. Part of this was a self imposed lifestyle of depravation. I am trying to shake it off but it isn’t easy. Today was a small step in the right direction.

an unexpected gift 2020 edition

I wasn’t going to write this. It was good enough for me to know that I had won the battle. 

On Christmas Day when I read a post from my friend Phil it became apparent that this victory was a gift and that I needed to share my gratitude for it. The post read “Friends- check on your clergy friends. Lot of us are feeling lost...”

And so Phil, I wanted to say “Thank You” for my unexpected gift. It was your service to The Greater Woodbury Cooperative Ministry Food Pantry that acted as a catalyst for change.

You may or may not know that I have been struggling with an eating disorder since my brother passed away. I don’t understand how this event triggered it. My guess is that everything that happened to him left me feeling out of control and this was a way to remedy it. All I know is that it was mine and I owned it, which is why I never asked for help.

I can’t even count the number of times I came home with half a dozen packages of cookies only to throw them in the trash only to retrieve them the following day. I shoved them down the garbage disposal. I bagged them and tossed them in a public trash can. I smashed the glass containers which held them. 

On the final day I went to Target and bought three packs. Then I read a post from Phil. He was collecting food for The Greater Woodbury Cooperative Ministry Food Pantry. I was filled with shame. There are people going hungry. What was I doing? It needed to stop. It did. That day I packed them away with some other food items and dropped them off at Phil’s house. 

I haven’t looked back. Sure it’s been a struggle, but it is worth the reward.

If you want more information on CHSP click here.
If you want to read more about my battle click here.

Purpose

I’ve always said that I work to live, not live to work and that I’d never let my job define me. While that still holds true I have come to realize that our jobs give us a sense of purpose. This was a painful realization that I arrived at during the past several months of the COVID pandemic. 

On March 16th at 8PM all gyms in the State of NJ officially closed and I became unemployed. Like most people, I figured we’d resume our normal daily activities in a month or so. Four months later I am still out of work. 

Financially it has been a strain, but I’m resourceful and have been able to get by. The real struggle has been emotional. I feel like a hamster on a wheel...going nowhere, contributing nothing. 

The opportunity to hike the Long Trail has provided me with a renewed sense of purpose. I am thankful for this opportunity and for the kindness everyone has shown. It has been the only source of light during this dark time.

gRaTiTuDe

I recently read an article entitled "Self-Rule Choices You Can Make to Increase Your HRV and Immunity." One of the suggestions involved practicing gratitude every morning and every night.

It has been a while since I've written anything. The past four months have been a mind numbing experience. I've gone to a pretty dark place, mainly because I've been out of work and have lost my sense of purpose. I don't feel like I am contributing anything. The sun rises and the sun sets. Every day feels like a carbon copy of the one that preceded it. 

I've spent a lot of time exercising, but even that can take its toll on the body and the mind. Rest days are particularly difficult. Today was a rest day. Today was the day I decided to begin my journey of gratitude. I realized that rest days shouldn't been viewed in such a negative light. I should be grateful for rest days...after all, that means I have the ability to push my body to its physical limits. I am thankful for the ability to be active. I am thankful for the days when I can rest.

an unexpected gift

last month i received a mailer from planet fitness that contained a coupon for a two week free trial of the black card membership.

black card members are permitted to bring a free guest with them every visit. i redeemed the offer on the 7th of December and told my dad that he was going to start coming to the gym with me at least once a week to use the lat pull down and seated row.

like everyone else in this forward facing society, my dad’s shoulders are starting to become rounded and he is noticeably hunched over. he lifts weights in the basemen, but there aren’t many exercises he can do at home to strengthen his back and bring those shoulders back to center.

the day before my trial membership ended he finally agreed to tag along with me...most likely because he had run out of excuses not to go.

i intentionally chose a time that would not be crowded to make the experience as pleasant as possible. i stopped by the house after work to pick him up. he was dressed in khaki shorts with a belt and a t-shirt, then proceeded to explain that he did not have sweat pants. many of the older men wear jeans to the gym and on top of that, his jeans are so loose that they fit like sweatpants anyway. i instructed him to change and we were on our way.

i showed him how to use three different types of pull downs and rows. he completed two sets of each, then we walked upstairs to look at the treadmills, which i assured him were just like the one we have at home...just push quick start...3.0 speed is the same here as the one we have in the basement. we finished on the stretch machine. it was a twenty minute visit.

on the way home we talked about plans to visit again. i let him know that i upgraded my membership as a christmas present for him and that he was welcome to come along any time he’d like, even if all he wanted to do that day was walk on the treadmill.

later on in the day my mom told me that she had asked him how it went. he said he had a good time and that he was looking forward to going back again.

in the eight years that i have been personal training, my father has been extremely resistant to anything i have tried to show him when it come to fitness.

when i asked him about going back again he told me he wanted it to be at a time when i could stay with him on the floor and teach him.

it turns out that i wasn’t the one giving him a gift at all...he is the one giving the gift to me.

I met a hooker and I liked it

I’m 45 years old and just met a prostitute for the first time.

Perhaps I have unknowingly met one in passing at some point in time. This, however was a sure thing.Part of my job as a trainer at the gym is to provide “comp sessions” to members. These thirty minute training sessions are free of charge and enable the client to obtain a structured workout which they can follow on their own.

Usually I confirm these sessions the night before and in this case I did just that. We agreed to meet in the lobby at 9:30am since I would already be downstairs teaching a class.

When I saw her I immediately recalled that we had met briefly in the spring. At the time she was VERY deconditioned after a long illness and still suffered from stomach/GI issues. The session didn’t even last 10 minutes. She excused herself and went to the bathroom to vomit. When she came out she apologized, saying that today was not a good day and she needed to go home.

Now, she was in a much better place.

I asked what I could help her with during this session. She told me that she didn’t want any weight training, just cardio because she needed to lose ten pounds by the end of the month for work.

I set her up with interval programs on the treadmill, stair climber and rower. We sat down at the training desk so I could write it out for her. She was very appreciative, emphasizing that she just need to lose these last six pounds and be done with it.

I asked her what it was she did for work and she said “I’m an escort” Oh, I said, you mean you...Before I could finish what I was saying she chimed in to confirm “I’m a prostitute.I have my own clients and make $10,000 cash a month, but I need to get down to 120 so I can get head shots for this escort service."

By now I was COMPLETELY fascinated, still digesting what she had told me...Oh, well, how about we see how this program goes for you and we touch base in a week (in other words, after I make a list of questions I wanna ask you about being a prostitute)She agreed and we parted ways.

On Monday night I received a text informing me that she lost all of the weight. She thanked me and said we wouldn’t need to meet tomorrow.

So many questions left unanswered, but I’m thankful I was able to help her achieve her goal weight. I’m sure many men will be satisfied with the finished product.

my 45th year

the plant yogi...constantly varied gear...concept2...chsp, tootsie pops...carinal tattoo...caffeinated cross...echo dot...wild coal...weighted blanket...acupressure mat...pure kana, cbd...collagen coffee...yogi toes...thrive market, volcano rice, chosen foods, chipotle lime mayo, wonder noodles...sports recovery lab, freeze and squeeze, rapid reboot...tooth and honey, narwhals...crunch fitness, gut feeling, bad blood...adult swim lessons, finis, speedo, tyr, aqua guard...royal fitness...planet fitness...collingswood farmers market, buck wild bison...workout with mom...ocean city, uncle bills, buckwheat pancakes...gluten free...pancake heaven...patagonia baggies...camp hazel, uncle paul...waterloo water...forced minimalism, white mushrooms, frozen carrots...never skip leg day, short hair don’t care, dft, flex friday...refinance from hell...draftkings, fanduel...tethered, break the chains, the day i stopped living, hamster on a wheel...keep on spinning

joy

I haven’t been the same since you left.  

I have found myself in a place where all of the joy has been removed from my life. 

Some of it has been a conscious decision on my part (for financial reasons) but most of it happened unintentionally. 

Social media serves as a reminder that it has been over a year since I took a vacation. It has gotten to the point where I wouldn’t even know what to do for fun if I took time off. 

This weekend I will turn 45. New Hampshire serves as my default when it comes to getting away. It’s probably because that’s the only place I have traveled to in the last three years while completing the 4000 footers. 

It is easy to run away to the mountains, to be alone and hike for days on end. That is something I have become very good at doing. Then, I had a thought...maybe I should try something this year that isn’t easy...maybe I owe it to myself...maybe I should start searching for joy in some familiar places. 

And that was my decision. 
And it’s one that I am certain he would approve of. 

So I called up an old friend and invited myself to her beach house where I will sample some local beers and play pinball. I put air in the tires of my cyclocross bike, lubed the chain and searched for a few local races. I reached out to people. I made lunch plans for next week. I made dinner plans for next week. 

If I tackle all of those things great, but even if I accomplish only one it will be a step in the right direction.

the day i stopped living AKA a very dark place

i don’t know exactly when it happened. most likely it has been a slow, gradual process...one that goes unnoticed until you wake up one day and realize that you don’t know what day it is because all of your days are the same...a hamster on a wheel...rinse and repeat

one minute you are having your coffee and the next you’re turning down the sheets for bed. everything that happened between those two events is just a blur...and the days turn into weeks and the week turn into months and the next thing you know three years have passed

i never thought it would be smooth sailing after Matt died, but I also didn’t think it would lead me down this road...to a very dark place

some time between august 2016 and that day (whenever it was) i came to terms with the fact that i was tethered...that i would in fact be tethered until my presence here was no longer necessary...to put it bluntly, i am stuck here until my parents die

this realization has paralleled the grieving process...and in a way, it has required a separate grieving process of it’s own because it has left me feeling dead inside. i wouldn’t call it depression...it’s more just trying to learn how to manage the cards i have been dealt

i want to tell you something...i have a plan for the future...my dream is to buy a travel trailer and work for the hospitality company that operates in several of the national parks...i will live in the travel trailer...and part of the year i will work in one park (like the grand canyon) and the other part of the year i will work in another (like glacier)...i will live simply and encounter people from all over the world. it will be a great adventure. i am hopeful.

oh those Wildwood days...

When you’re eleven years old, the drive to Wildwood feels like an eternity. 

In the late 80’s my mom drove a sandalwood Ford Taurus station wagon with a seat that popped up in what we called “the back back.” It was the premium spot for long journeys like the one to the Jersey Shore so we had to take turns sitting there.

Growing up, we didn’t go on vacation like most families. My father worked all the time so it was my mother who took us on short trips to visit my grandmother and her two sisters who spent the summer in Wildwood.

Helen, Sis and Ann rented a small two bedroom apartment at the Sunnyside Motel on 13th and Surf. When the three of us arrived it was definitely close quarters. One double bed, two twin beds and a fold out sofa allowed just enough room for the six of us.

Upon our arrival I'd walk a few blocks to the Little Giant Market for a loaf of bread and a game of Donkey Kong. My grandmom always made sure we were well fed and had a good time. Pizza at Mack’s, Curley’s Fries, Sea Shell Ice Cream and Samuel’s Pancakes were all consumed on a daily basis. On occasion we would have to get fancy and go to Ed Zaberers or Duffy’s on the Lake, but she also made sure she treated us to a day at Raging Waters Water Park as well as several rounds of miniature golf at Hassles.

We would hit the beach, but never for more than a few hours. My brother and I both preferred the boardwalk, not for the rides but for the games. Each night we’d spend our allowance playing games and earning tickets, which we’d cash in for prizes. Sometimes we’d spend an entire summer saving for one big item like a Sony Watchman. Inevitably there would be a surplus after attaining said item which left us with a plethora or trinkets like Chinese finger traps and plastic kazoos.

My mom always felt better about us spending our money on something that would yield us something rather than waste it on the crane game, which we did play our fair share of, especially the summer when the coveted prize was a large white plastic mug with a California Raisins logo printed on it.

On the last day of our visit we would go to the boardwalk and stock up on fudge and saltwater taffy before making the long trip home during which I would listen to one of the two cassettes I owned, Bruce Springsteen Born in the USA or the Beach Boys Greatest hits Volume 1. 

I’m happy to reminisce on these times, but sad for the reason I have done it on the past two anniversaries of my brother’s passing. They say a picture is worth a thousand memories, but I think that just one memory is worth thousands more.

sit on it

Just before the holidays I was having some pretty significant discomfort in my lower back. I am fairly active and my job as a personal trainer depends on my body having its shit together. For this reason, I have incorporated yoga, massage and chiropractic into my “preventive maintenance” schedule. There is a statement on the wall at the chiropractor’s office that says something like “13 hours per day” is the average amount of time we spend sitting. This obviously was a contributing factor to my lower back discomfort. 

I thought to remedy the situation by purchasing a better desk chair, a really fancy ergonomic one, but they proved to be too expensive. I expanded my search to craigslist and found a couple Herman Miller chairs that fit my budget. Then I gave it some more thought...you know what...instead of spending $300 on a new chair (so I can continue to sit more) why don’t I just reduce the amount of time I spend sitting...and that’s exactly what I did. 

Treat the cause not the symptom.

rebuilding

For as active as I am, I’ve been pretty fortunate to remain injury free.

About six weeks ago I began experiencing pain in my right quadricep. I had a massage to work it out and continued as I had been, but the pain returned. This time it spread to my right glute and hamstring. 

At my next massage therapy session we delved a little bit deeper in an attempt to discover the root of the problem. We talked about my recent exercise patterns. Had anything changed? 

Thankfully I am anal retentive about tracking my workouts. This allowed me to easily determine that not only had I increased the weight during leg workouts, I had also increased the volume (by adding two days of a short body weight routine). 

The result...my right quadricep became significantly stronger than my left and my quadriceps (in general) became significantly stronger than my hamstrings.

Once we identified the source of the problem we were able to come up with a strategy for correcting it. I’m working on strengthening my posterior chain. I’m working on regaining balance with single leg exercises. 

I’m working on body awareness, not only in regard to pain, but also when it comes to breathing...this has proven to be the most challenging part of the rebuilding process.

reloading

I’m pretty good friends with this guy at the gym. There are times when I catch him lifting with shitty form and I’ll call him out on it. The problem is that he is frustrated that his fifty-something year old self cannot lift the same weight as his forty-something year old self. He’ll frequently tell me what he used to be able to do.


Two weeks ago he hurt his shoulder doing lateral raises with a weight he had no business lifting. It set him back a week. When he returned I told him to stop lifting with his dick (or his ego) and to be thankful for what he can do.

On Friday, a similar scenario presented itself. One of the morning regulars, a guy in his mid-fifties asked me for a spot on the bench press. He was attempting a one rep max. When he completed it he told me that he has a bum shoulder and was advised to stop benching fifteen years ago...but, there is just something about being able to do it that he can’t let go of...it’s almost as if he uses it as a measure of something more than just physical strength.

Getting old doesn’t have to suck. These guys need to realize that their foundation is there. All they need to do is switch up the tools they are using to keep it strong.

CHSP

It started with a cookie from time to time, then it went to halloween candy, chocolate covered pretzels, christmas cookies, cereal, girl scout cookies, donuts, easter candy, jelly beans, cupcakes, birthday cake, breads, pies...the list goes on an on...most recently it has been vanilla creme sandwich and chocolate peanut butter cookies from Aldi. At first it was three or four around lunch time...then it was six...then it was six before and six after...when I finally said enough is enough the total hovered around twenty cookies a day.

I didn’t eat a single one. I chewed them, just for the taste, and spit them out into a plastic cup.

I have been struggling with an eating disorder for the past three and a half years. The funny thing is that initially, I didn’t even know it was one. It has a name. It is called Chewing and Spitting Disorder (CHSP).

My brother’s cancer diagnosis sent life into a tailspin. It was a wild ride, one that left me feeling helpless and out of control. With so much unpredictability, I sought out something I could control..food.

I can’t say that I have made a ton of progress in breaking this habit, but I have taken small steps. Tootsie Pops have been a good alternative. One of those can last me at least a day, if not longer.

The largest obstacle I face is lack of access to decent mental health care. This is something that I should discuss with a therapist. Unfortunately, I cannot afford to pay for the service out of pocket and the limited options provided by my insurance are not appropriate.

The thing that took the most courage wasn’t sharing my story with people. The real courage came a few months ago when I took a glass (cookie) jar into the woods and threw it against a tree, shattering it to pieces.

I’m sure there are other people out there struggling with the same thing. I’m sure there are people out there struggling with much worse. Remember, just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there.