Pumping Irony

Craig Cox, EL’s managing editor and resident geezer, explores the joys and challenges of aging well.

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Experience Life Magazine

The Heart of the Matter

Last week, the venerable New England Journal of Medicine published the results of a study showing that your diet can have as significant an effect on your risk of cardiovascular disease as any prescription drug. The response from the medical industry was immediate. The New York Times called it “a watershed moment in the field of nutrition.” Neil J. Stone, MD, former chair of the American Heart Association’s nutrition committee, said, “This is the start of where we need to go with nutritional clinical trials.”

I have no medical training or credentials whatsoever, and all I could think was, Duh! In the world of alternative and integrative medicine, diet has always been seen as a key ingredient in a healthy lifestyle. I’d say it’s about time conventional medicine got a clue.

For the past 50 years, doctors have been pushing surgery and pharmaceuticals as the only way to prevent heart attacks and strokes. And when they did talk about diet, they preached the gospel of low-fat foods, despite numerous studies showing the nutritional value of healthy fats. (Check out “A Big Fat Mistake” for more on this.) So it’s hard to understand why a single study from the University of Barcelona, involving about 7,500 people, would have such an impact on the industry.

But, according to Dr. Daniel J. Rader, a heart disease specialist at the University of Pennsylvania, the Barcelona study tested the Mediterranean diet hypothesis in a way it had never been tested before. “Given the importance of diets and given the decades of dietary recommendations we have given to people, you would think we would have had more dietary studies with hard endpoints to get at these questions,” Rader told the Times. The best of these earlier studies looked only at intermediate markers of risk, like cholesterol levels (the results of which, it turns out, were mostly misinterpreted).

I might also suggest that there’s little incentive for researchers to turn their attention to dietary changes, when pharmaceutical remedies are far more lucrative. And I have to say that I’m not optimistic that organizations like the American Heart Association are going to change their views on this anytime soon. As Alice Lichtenstein, lead author of AHA’s dietary guidelines, told the Times, “We definitively need to test plausible diets, within the context of what is available and consumed in the U.S., that could lower the risk of heart disease.”

But when asked whether she thought a study of vegan diets and their effect on heart disease might be in the offing, Lichtenstein was not optimistic. “Given the high cost of conducting a long-term diet study, we have to think about what is feasible for the majority of the U.S. population,” she said. “From past experience, we know it is highly unlikely people are going to make radical changes in their diet and stick with those changes long term.”

Not exactly a ringing endorsement of the Barcelona study.

In fact, the medical industry is far behind the curve when it comes to nutrition and its impact on health. Michael Lauer, MD, director of the division of cardiovascular sciences at the National Heart, Lung and Blood Institute, says it reminds him of where heart attack research was 50 years ago, when victims were placed on bed rest and given lidocaine and nitroglycerin — a treatment regimen that tended to shorten, rather than lengthen, life spans.

The good news is that we don’t have to wait for Western medicine to catch up with functional medicine pioneers like Mark Hyman, Frank Lipman and others, who long ago began helping people regain their health through dietary and lifestyle changes. All we need to do is to educate ourselves about this approach, shift our eating habits and wean ourselves from a medical model that I fear is destined to forever be surprised by the obvious.

Experience Life Magazine

The Belgian Waffle Diet














Back to the gym last
night after a couple of weeks away, and I have to admit I was a little
apprehensive when I climbed on the scale before my workout. It’s not just that
I’ve been avoiding the gym; I’ve been avoiding the gym while quaffing pints of
ale, brutalizing Belgian waffles, devouring Yorkshire pudding with no regard
for my personal safety and simply inhaling any jambon et fromage within 30 meters of a baguette. And I’m not even
going to mention the chocolate. A European vacation is a magnificent culinary
adventure, but I had to assume that our 10 days in Belgium, France and England
would create some unwanted impact on my personal poundage.

 

So, I had to look twice
when 158.6 flashed on the scale’s digital screen.

 

158.6?

 

All summer long, I’ve been
essentially stuck at 160 — despite ramping up my fat-burning efforts on the
Elliptical Death Machine, despite embracing a mindful eating protocol, despite
creatively visualizing those last 5 lbs. melting away. I’ve been stranded in
plateau city.

 

Now, if I knew that
drinking lots of beer and eating lots of rich food (you cannot even believe those waffles) was the key to
rappelling down from that bluff, I would’ve got after it a lot sooner. But, of
course, that’s not how it works. My personal weight-loss serendipity had
nothing to do with what I ate or didn’t eat; it’s all about the sightseeing.
Or, more accurately, it’s all about getting from point A to point B without an
automobile.

 

For years, Americans have
puzzled over the seemingly counterintuitive spectacle of lithe French women who
eat all the rich food they want without accumulating any excess weight. How
come all those croissants and full-fat yoghurt and wine and exquisite sauces
and chocolate don’t wind up attaching themselves to their hips?

 

Well, I’m here to tell
you that it’s not just the women and it’s not just the French. Europeans, in
general, avoid the epidemic of obesity that so afflicts Americans because they
don’t drive that much. A 2008 study from the Journal of Physical Activity and Health says
it all: In Belgium, 30 percent of all trips away from home involve walking,
biking or mass transit. And Belgians are pikers compared with the Dutch; people
in the Netherlands get around town without an automobile 52 percent of the time. (Each year, the average Dutch resident logs
an outrageous 1,225 kilometers on foot, bicycle, bus or train.) Americans, on
the other hand, drive everywhere: only 12 percent of trips away from home in
the U.S. are accomplished sans
automobile.

 

Such “active
transportation” helps prevent weight gain, the study’s authors note:
“Walking and bicycle commuting usually fall into the moderate-intensity
range, and if performed regularly, can result in substantial amounts of energy
expenditure.
In
addition, the use of public transit (trains, subways, and buses) usually involves
walking or cycling to and from transit stops and, hence, would also be expected
to promote weight control, as well as a host of other physical and mental
health benefits.”

 

This added
“routine” activity by your average European burns as much as 9 pounds
of fat per year, while your average car-centric American might burn 2. And,
when you add it all up, here’s what you get: In the U.S., 34 percent of the
population is now considered obese. In the Netherlands, it’s 11 percent.

 

So, this helps to explain
that 158.6 number above. Every day of our vacation, we walked. A lot. On our last day in London, for
instance, my son decided for some reason to count the number of stairs he
climbed. The final count when we boarded the train back to Brussels that
evening: 903. Now, he went out of his way to scamper up steps unnecessarily at
times, but I’m guessing that My Lovely Wife and I scaled at least 750. At
least, that’s what my knees were telling me. That’s a pretty decent StairMaster
session.

 

We’ll see in a few days
whether I’ve been able to maintain my newfound European weight-loss plan in a
city with one puny light-rail line and the ever-alluring Crapmobile parked in
the driveway, but as long as my old Schwinn remains operational and my sneakers
hold onto their tread, there’s no reason why I can’t continue to live like a
Belgian (or even a Dutchman!) right here on the prairie.

 

Except for the waffles.
I’m really going to miss the waffles.


 

 

Experience Life Magazine

Calories and Cardio

So, as promised in my earlier post, I’m reporting back. And as I suspected, I haven’t been able to get to the gym every day on a regular schedule since then, but I have been getting in some good workouts when I’ve been down there. Most notably, I’ve taken my young PT’s advice about lengthening my stints on the Elliptical Death Machine. I’ve done 45 minutes on a couple of occasions, which burns about 600 calories and leaves me pretty much drenched in sweat (but in a good way). I’ve been mixing my resistance training between the machines and The Pit (heavier on the machines).

To review: Rather than the M-W-F lifting, T-Th cardio, and Sunday basketball ritual, I’ve been content to mix cardio and lifting on alternate days and imagine myself shooting hoops (with great style and accuracy — and really cool sneakers) on Sunday. I’ve never actually attempted a serious workout two days in a row. Maybe someday. When I’m younger.

Oh, and I’ve cured my obsession with FitDay. I simply stopped filling out the info one day. I figure after about three months of tracking my eating, I’m pretty clear on what I need to do to stay on track. It was an interesting experiment, actually. I learned that I don’t consume that many calories (about 2,000/day on average) and that I don’t have a great deal of trouble getting my RDA of most nutrients. I’m a little low on vitamin E and calcium, and it seems like I can eat a half-dozen servings of fruits, veggies and nuts, plus a 4-by-8 sheet of plywood and still not reach my RDA for fiber, but for the most part, it appears I’m eating a pretty healthy diet. I’ve been avoiding refined sugar and carbs as much as possible and a more mindful approach to stuffing my face is paying off, I think. I’ve dropped five pounds since I started keeping track of this stuff. My goal is to drop five more (down to 155) by the end of the summer. If I succeed, please be assured that I will not appear at a local beach in a speedo.

Anyway, it appears that I’m motivated again. I’ll do 45 minutes on the EDM tonight and some upper-body work on the machines. Maybe I’ll even try to stretch out this right calf of mine, which has been cramping up of late. Or not.

Experience Life Magazine

Weight Control

Day 6 of the Great Food Chronicle Experiment has now come and gone, and one very clear pattern has emerged: I don’t seem to eat very much. After my Tony Soprano dining extravaganza last Friday, my calorie intake went like this: 1,697, 1,972, 2,034, 1,936, 2,049, and 1,704. I have been consciously avoiding refined sugars (no dark chocolate Snickers) and limiting myself to one or two glasses of wine in an evening. But it hasn’t exactly been a  hardship.

And when I weighed myself at the gym tonight, I had lost a couple of pounds, down to 162.5 lbs. I’d like to report that I’m feeling more energetic and lively as a result of this new conscious-eating exercise, but that would be lying. I’m mostly sore.

That has nothing to do with my caloric intake, though. I blame The Pit. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve been wandering among the burly weightlifters in the gym’s sub-basement, sampling the joys of hoisting iron sans machines. And my hammies and quads are not accustomed to such rigor.

Still, I went downstairs tonight after work determined to work my way through any pain, and 25 minutes on the EDM got the juices flowing in a way that convinced me to descend once again amongst the masses of muscularity.

Like my earlier journey through the resistance machinery, I haven’t had much of a routine — just moving from station to station, staying out of everyone’s way and trying not to embarrass myself too much. Until this week, when I borrowed a relatively simple routine from former weightlifting champion Marty Gallagher that he says is all us amateurs need to do to get SUPER FIT!!!

Here’s the routine:
1.    Squats: You put a barbell on your shoulders and neck behind your head and squat up and down (three sets of eight reps). Tuesday night, I started at 50 lbs. and worked my way up to 70. Tonight, I started at 50 and worked my way up to 80.
2.    Bench Press: Lay on your back. Raise and lower a barbell loaded with iron over your scrawny chest. This is more difficult than I had imagined — chiefly because that barbell full of iron does not balance by itself. It’s kind of all over the place once you lift it off the rack. There is a certain incentive to keep it airborne, however, given that its hovering unsteadily up there above your chest and (gulp!) throat. I managed three sets of eight reps hoisting 50 lbs. on Tuesday; tonight I figured I’d settle for the same level of achievement, but was astonished how heavy the load seemed to be. I grunted my way through three sets of eight again, lamenting my wussiness — until I noticed that I hadn’t loaded two 25-pound plates on the barbell. I’d mistakenly slapped on two 35 pounders! (I could’ve been killed!) That made me feel better.
3.    Deadlifts: This is where you lean over a barbell and simply straighten up (24 times) and try to do so in a way that doesn’t strain your lower back — which is precisely what I accomplished on Tuesday, midway through my second set of reps with 90 lbs. I’d started out with 80 with the intent of adding 10 lbs for each succeeding rep, but when I felt that twinge in my lower back, I hesitated . . . then soldiered on like an idiot, finishing another set of reps with 100 lbs. My back, astonishingly, was none the worse for wear when I descended into The Pit tonight, but I decided not to push it. I did three sets with 90 lbs.
4.    Overhead Press: Holding two dumbbells at shoulder level, you simply push them skyward, taking care to avoid conking yourself on the skull during their descent. Thirty pounds in each hand is all I can muster so far, and I’m only able to hoist that poundage by arching my back in a way that causes a particularly unattractive protrusion of my belly.
5.    Triceps Extensions: Take a single dumbbell in both hands and lift it over your head in a way that suggests homicidal activity, and then lower it slowly behind your head in a way that threatens to send you backpedaling into oblivion and you’ve got the idea for this one. I can manage 35 lbs. on this maneuver, or about the weight of an otherwise innocent pick axe.
6.    Biceps Curls: Can I just say that I love biceps curls? So simple, yet so personally awe-inspiring? I mean who doesn’t want to leave the gym every night with their biceps all taut and tingly? You feel like you can conquer the world — like you’re Superman. Or Michelle Obama. In The Pit tonight were two massively muscled, ornately tattooed guys, taking turns curling 35-pound dumbbells in each hand and exhibiting a grand sort of — how would you put it? — gruntability. And yet, there I was, right next to them, calmly curling a couple of 25-pounders. I could almost swagger back up the steps to the locker room.

Anyway, this new conscious eating plan, combined with The Pit, has me looking at this fitness thing in a new way. Maybe I’ll even start stretching.