Fat Cells Hate This Secret Trick!

 One of the inevitable pitfalls of discussing Keto with people, and one I sometimes fall back into without thinking, is referring to it as the Keto 'diet.'  

I try to refer to it as a lifestyle, because there's so much more to it and because of the negative connotations of the word diet.  When you say the word, the first thing that comes to mind is starving yourself, and that is quite simply not the case at all.   The preconception of a diet is that one has to eat tiny portions of only certain foods, and then workout until collapsing while exhausted and hungry.

I agree that working out is an important aspect of overall health, and it certainly doesn't hurt to add some to your routine, but I would would argue that real strenuous workouts can come later, being progressively added as you become more able to do them. Disclaimer: I am not a medical doctor, and absolutely nothing I say should be construed as advice, simply opinion based on experience.  I'm only going to talk about what worked for me.

In my case, I started out at 325 pounds, and exercise consisted of getting off the couch and walking to the car.  Just the thought of doing anything more exerting than that caused me to be flush with the sensation of exhaustion and dread.  It was a vicious cycle because to preserve what little energy I had, I did less and less.  

So how did I get to be where I am now?   Did I starve myself? Did I workout until I dropped?  If you've been paying attention so far, you know the answer to those questions is no.  Eating keto is definitely an adaptation, I won't try to hide that, nor run from it. It's not that I had to do without, with a few minor exceptions. In actuality I could eat pretty much anything I wanted, the difference being I had to find new and creative ways to do it.  That meant trying new foods, and new ways of preparing old favorites with different ingredients.  In my case, portion sizes were not the enemy, and to be honest I didn't even watch my calorie intake.  I focused on net carbs.  I set an arbitrary goal of 20 net carbs per day, based on research that I had done indicating that 20-50 is generally considered to be the optimal zone to maintain ketosis.  As long as I stayed at 20 or below per day, I considered it a win.

I didn't hit the gym, I didn't lift weights.  My exercise routine consisted of normal daily activities. All the while, I was able to eat pizza, cake, sandwiches, french fries, ice cream, candy, candy bars, even cheesecake and chocolate mousse.  I tried to maintain a reasonable portion size, but that was based pretty strictly on the calculation of net carb intake.  In short, if I planned my meals properly, I could indulge quite a bit.

Once I hit my goal weight, I began to add progressively longer and more frequent hikes, averaging about 5 miles a day when possible due to time and weather.  I began to vary my hiking locations based on terrain and tried to have some days be more moderate and some days put myself through hell with steep and prolonged inclines.  Finally a funny thing happened.  It got easier.  The hellish hikes stopped making me feel like my lungs were going to burst from my chest.  My overall heart rate began to drop, even under heavy exertion.

A few years ago, even setting foot outside in 70 degree weather was enough to make me sweat.  Exerting myself under summer heat usually made me sweaty enough that I had to change clothes frequently. Today, I can hike for five miles in 90+ degree heat and maybe work up a small sweat, but nothing anywhere approaching the tsunamis I used to endure.  Summer heat in North Carolina is no joke, and while I may not always enjoy being broiled, my body can definitely handle it far more efficiently now.  

As a hedge against the heat and humidity, and also against the frequent and unexpected torrential rains we get here, I also purchased a stationary bike.  (On sale for 99 dollars no less!) For those days when time or weather are a concern, I now have a fantastic option to get the same workout in about half the time all while staying out of the elements. There is something to be said for enjoying the scenery though, but it's nice to be able to switch it up.

I mix in some resistance band training at home as well, and that, as they say is that.  No gym memberships needed.  Again, this is MY personal experience.  Some people obviously may do better at a gym or training studio with instruction and support.  My only goal here is to demonstrate that I was able to live the keto lifestyle for approaching three years, losing about 180 pounds, keep it off, and get far more physically fit.  

I'm not done yet either.  While I'm much happier with my overall fitness now, there's still work to be done, but the bulk of it, the hard work of shedding over half of myself, is now in the past and has been for some time.  I realize I didn't really divulge any world shattering secrets but I just wanted to touch on some misconceptions about keto and some of the possibilities.  I plan to get a little more into a deep dive in a future post.  If you're still here, thank you and I appreciate you!

Changing of the Guard

 

September 8, 2022.  One of those days that stands out in history.  We all know where we were during 9/11 or the Challenger disaster, or any number of events of world importance that stand out as mileposts.  Moments where we can all date ourselves and other events when looking back one day.

I happened to be watching the news live when it was announced that Queen Elizabeth II passed away.

Despite political differences some may have held, she had a momentous reign and a storied life.  May she rest in peace.

The Simple Things

 One of the many discoveries I've made along my weight loss and transformational journey is to appreciate the simple pleasures in life. I've always loved electronics and cool stuff as much as the next guy, but at heart it's the little things that have always meant the most to me.  

Since I've gotten down to my goal weight and reshaped the way I look, I've noticed that without even trying I've been reshaping the things that bring me joy.  Exercise has become a regular part of my life; getting outside and getting some sun and solitude has been just as important as eating right in helping me to realize exactly who it is I want to be.  I've found so many great places within, in some cases, minutes of home that I never knew even existed.  This past weekend was a prime example.   

In the middle of Morrisville, NC sits Lake Crabtree Park.  In the distance, office buildings dot the horizon, buffered from full view by a wall of trees and a greenway.  There was a mixed use trail there, populated by plenty of other hikers and mountain bikers, which blended into the greenway seamlessly.  Paddle boarders and pedal boats were out in full force as people enjoyed the late summer weather.  

Mere minutes from the hustle and bustle of everyday life, it was such a serene and beautiful place to go just enjoy being outside and appreciate the sights and smells of nature.

It's still somewhat alien to me that I am able to withstand the summer heat and the exertion of a long hike.  Even three years ago, the walk from the parking lot just to the trail head would have seemed insurmountable.  Back then the summer heat was quite literally intolerable.  I almost would have needed a change of clothes just to deal with the sweat.  My chest would have felt like it was about to explode if I'd attempted

any sort of long distance hike.  I struggled with stairs.  Now, after a five mile hike at a steady pace, the only question on my mind is how much more trail is there to explore? Well, that, and how much water is left in my pack?

These are the types of little moments I love.  The thrill of discovering not only new places and moments, but what it feels like to be alive and back outside actually living my life, not wasting it away on a couch.

The Long Goodbye

 In my introduction post I touched on the fact that life is like a river in which you have no control over where the current takes you.  The past two years taught me that the hard way.  I know that the world seems crazy these days, thanks to all sorts of political weirdness, and COVID, and just about everything else, and we've all had a lot to deal with, but for me personally 2020-22 was the worst onslaught of hard lessons I've ever had to contend with.  

I came out the other side with flying colors, despite many nights spent not thinking I would, I could, or that I even wanted to.  Warning: this post is going to be raw, so if you can't take heartache or don't want to hear this kind of thing, this is your sign to turn back.

Almost four years ago, my family and I moved to North Carolina.  My wife had a fantastic job opportunity, and coming from Maryland, it was going to be an exciting change of pace.  I remember coming to North Carolina for family vacations as a child and they are some of my fondest memories.  I hated Maryland with a passion my entire adult life (that's a whole other series of posts) but suffice it to say, North Carolina was not a hard sell.  

We settled in, and for a while, all seemed fine.  Beginning in 2020, we as a family (myself, my wife, and my mother) began to notice some serious changes in my dad.  We'd noticed it to a far lesser extent as far back as maybe 2018, but 2020 was when it was no longer reasonable to deny that something was off.  Every time we'd come and visit, my dad would call multiple times.  It seemed harmless enough.  Almost sweet that he was so excited.  But as time went on, we began to notice the frequency of the calls increased dramatically, and the content of the conversations began to repeat.  

Of course, nobody suspects the worst.  We thought it was normal age-related forgetfulness, though my dad was just a touch over 74 years old.  Hardly ancient.  Things started to click for us.  For a few years, he'd been occasionally saying things that were either inappropriate for family gatherings (a little risque or vulgar) and just making comments that seemed like they would better have been left unsaid.  This got dramatically more frequent.  He would sit and watch baseball for hours...almost entire days.  This alone was unusual in that I can count the number of times he watched sports up until this point on two or three fingers.  

He was on his computer less and less, and always had his phone in his hand. Unlocking it, swiping around, relocking it, and repeating the process.  He was smoking less and less.  Some days not even at all.

I was talking to my mother on one of my visits and she said he was calling her at work upwards of 30 times a day and it was becoming a problem.  I remember going into his den when he was occupied in another room and going through his phone.  There were dozens of phone calls to random people that lasted 10-30 seconds.  Text messages that were jibberish.  Photos of his finger over the camera lens.  

Still at this point, I chalked it up to being 74 and left it at that, short of tweaking the settings on his phone and deleting some contacts that he probably shouldn't be randomly texting at 3 am.   I began to get concerned about him falling for a phone scam or something like that.

Then, and I can no longer remember when, he became much harder to engage in conversation, and when we tried it would inevitably dissolve into either him zoning out or not making much sense.  It was pretty easy to tell that he was having a hard time following a conversation.

My mother started making inquiries and got him to a doctor.  It was around this time that my wife and I convinced my mother that it might not be a bad option for them to move to North Carolina as well so we could help because it became quite clear that taking care of my dad was becoming more and more time intensive.

We started driving up nearly every weekend to help pack and clean and get ready to sell their house.  Dad remained in his chair, transfixed to the television.   He really only moved when it was time to eat or go to bed.  And soon, even eating became difficult.  He began to pick at his food.  It was only later that we realized he was beginning to forget what utensils were for.  Or even that they were there.  Sometimes he'd just stare at his food until we fed him.

Days before my mother signed off on the sale of her home, my wife decided she wanted to move on, and she told me she was leaving.  This was unexpected to say the least...after 20 years.  (This I won't really touch on because it was relatively amicable and I'm respectful of her privacy.) Despite this, and the fact that I've absolutely dealt with it and moved on, at the time it was a pretty rough blow to take in light of no longer having that support system.

At the time of the move, my dad's neurologist in Maryland had diagnosed him with age-related cognitive decline.  I called bullshit on that immediately...but I'm also not a doctor.

As my parents got settled in, we had a good (comparatively) 6-9 months where my dad was still somewhat mobile, but we were starting to notice other things.  He would aimlessly wander off in stores unless one of us was actively holding onto him.  Which, at times made him angry.  He would be confused as to where he was, and frequently got away from my mom when they went out together.

We eventually got him a wheelchair as his gait was getting stiff and he tended to shuffle and be a little unsteady on his feet.  This made it somewhat easier to manage him out and about. At least as far as keeping track of his whereabouts.

His mouth, however was a different story.  He never really had a problem saying what was on his mind and this became a real problem.  

Around this time, the doctors in North Carolina confirmed what we already knew.  It was in fact not age related cognitive decline, it was Alzheimer's.  Oddly, it was a little bit of a relief.  Not that it made dealing with him any easier, but we knew that someone else knew. If that makes sense.

At this point, any time my mom was gone from my dad's immediate line of sight he would almost have a panic attack.  Pacing around the house, moving items, carrying items to random places, yelling for my mom from both doors, and from room to room.  I had to install security cameras with motion sensors to alert me if he got up in the middle of the night because there were a few times where he turned on the stove, turned on faucets and let them run, and at one point tried to use the washing machine as a toilet.  He also did leave the house on a few occasions when we were asleep.  We would take him to the doctor and he would just sit there and stare straight ahead and we had to lift him out of the car because he couldn't understand it was time to get out.  Rinse and repeat getting him back into the car.  

He would scream and curse at traffic, and attempt to open the doors as the car was moving.  Sometimes he would jiggle the gearshift while we were driving.  He was constantly fiddling with air vents and power window and door lock switches.  It was exhausting.  It was so hard to see.  

And then, it got worse.  Slowly, he began to call my mom different names.  Not all of them good.  Around the same time, he would fly into a rage at the sight of me. I was called every name you could possibly imagine at one time or another.  I'm sure him forgetting me was made easier by my rapid weight loss.  After dropping from 325 to 139 so fast, even my mom didn't recognize me at first.

Almost overnight, he went from constant rambling and yelling during angry outbursts to almost completely silent.  He stopped getting up without assistance. During the middle of the night he would get out of bed and we'd find him curled up on the carpet in the morning.  My mom and I struggled to get him up, and it was almost round the clock cleaning and bathing.

At that point, we got hospice involved and they brought a medical bed for him.  We thought the rails would make it less likely he'd get out of bed. It did.  From that point, he never got out of bed again.  He slowly stopped responding to us, began to sleep more and more and finally one day in June began to breathe differently. About two days later he left us.   

Two months later I signed my divorce papers. One month after that I lost my cat of fifteen years, whose brother passed away earlier in the year.

Despite all this I kept breathing. I kept moving. Those events profoundly hurt but they profoundly changed me and reignited my drive to be the best me I can, and to make as much out of the time I have left in this world as possible.  If you're reading this, I wish that for you too. Be authentic. Be honest, tell your loved ones you care, and do everything and anything you can with them, for them, and for yourself.  

In this action packed adventure we call life, there's only one showing.  Do something with it. Open yourself up to possibilities because they will be there. I'm cheering for you.