Solving The Problems You See

Somewhere along the way, I picked up an unusual philosophy: problems are meant to be solved by those who see them. Time after time, I have watched various friends and acquaintances become aware of a cause or injustice, get involved, and find that they had the right combination of talents and drive to becoming actively engaged in the solution in ways they never could have previously imagined. It’s the same phenomenon that can make churches and charitable organizations far more effective at solving particular problems than government programs could ever be. There’s something transformative about passion, moreso when you’re directly involved in changing lives instead of working through some faceless proxy organization.

Right now, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine by the name of Chris. Chris and I became acquainted lo these many moons ago when I got involved in the community for the online PC game Starsiege: Tribes back at the end of the 90s. A week after we met, Chris was in a horrible motorcycle accident that changed his life forever. It’s a miracle he’s still alive. Stephanie and I have kept touch with him and over the years, have had the privilege of having him fly out from Vermont for three extended visits with our family, including two memorable Christmas holidays. He’s been placed in our lives for a reason, and we’ve drawn him into our family-of-choice.

Chris at the Gangers for Christmas 2007

Chris at the Gangers for Christmas 2007

Chris’s medical condition is deteriorating; his doctor now estimates that he has approximately five years at the outside until he will need to live in assisted care. We were able to help him out a couple of years ago by putting him up on the awesome Select Comfort air bed that Steph had scrounged up for our guest room. The difference it made during his four-week visit that year was amazing — by the end of the visit, he was regularly going without an entire pain medication dose and was still more active and healthy than he’d been since the accident. His doctor worked all year to get the State of Vermont health services to purchase a Select Comfort bed for him — wrote the prescription, jumped through hoops to show how the cost of the bed would easily repay itself in the reduced medication costs, etc. — and some bureaucratic organization killed the whole idea. Why? Good question — we still don’t know. After a year of struggling, we sent the bed home with him after the next Christmas visit. (Screw you, nameless Vermont functionaries!)

We’ve been working on getting him moved from Vermont to Washington — specifically out to be near us — but it’s been an uphill battle. It has been extremely frustrating hearing him tell us over and over how he gets a good phone interview for a perfect part-time job but then once they meet him in person, game over. Now Chris has a plan. It may not be the best plan, but it’s better than what we’ve been able to come up with and we’re going to help.


Chris working on my Lego Star Destroyer

Those of you who read my blog, whether directly, through some feed, through Twitter, or through Facebook: I’m hoping that you might be able and willing to give some help as well. Please go read his site and background — we’re going to scrounge up the pictures we have of him and send them so he can include them in updates and allow folks to get to know him. If you can, donate. If you can, spread this further. We’d love to get Chris relocated this spring and summer once the weather turns good and get him out here where we can provide in-person assistance. It won’t take much — $1, $2, $maybe even $5 and then pass the word on.

How To Develop Patience

“Lord, give me patience, and give it to me now!” I’m willing to bet most of of us have heard that joke (or some variant) at some point in our lives, but it underscores a serious question: how does one go about learning to exercise patience?

I’m no guru or saint, so I can’t answer the question for you, but for me it turns out the answer comes from a combination of two life experiences: my six and a half years at 3Sharp, and the nearly two years I’ve been studying karate. At 3Sharp, I learned how to do a lot of things that were beyond my initial comfort zone, developing deep technical presentations (and delivering them to large audiences), scoping and producing large technical projects such as books and whitepapers, and doing a large variety of work from hands-on consulting to research projects.

I’ve talked in previous posts about the physical benefits I’ve seen from karate. However, two weeks ago I tested for my 5th kyu belt (the second of my three green belts) and that experience made me aware of some deep changes in my personality and character. The step from 6th kyu to 5th kyu was particularly hard for me, and it took some time to sort out the two reasons why.

The obvious cause was schedule. I took two months off of karate at the beginning of the year, due to a combination of factors. That’s a hard gap to come back from; I had problems after the three week hiatus I took because of the MCM class. After two months, I just didn’t feel that my presence in class was doing any good until I had the privilege of watching two of my friends from the Mukilteo dojo earn their black belts one Saturday morning in February. I walked away from that experience feeling a new level of commitment to karate. After all, I told myself at that point, if I study hard, I’ll get to 5th kyu sooner or later, and that’s half-way to black belt!

The other cause was technical. The test kata for 5th kyu (Pinan Shodan) is the karateka’s first introduction[1] to a well-known and complicated set of katas, and while most of it seems to be straightforward, there’s a lot boiling up from underneath the surface. Carlos Sensei began introducing us to a series of drills based around Pinan Shodan that unpack a lot of useful theory and practice from the first eight moves of the kata. There’s this very difficult pivot/kick/double punch move right in there (I dub it UberHardMove) that is a key element of the kata, and I was having a hard time getting the pivot, kick, and punches all coordinated together and working the right way without falling on my ass. In fact, I had such a difficult time with it that I can remember sometime around the end of December thinking that maybe I’d found the wall beyond which my lack of coordination was not going to let me pass. In addition, there’s some pretty gnarly tuite that goes along with all of this and I found that I felt horribly weak on my tuite all around, let alone with the techniques I was supposed to able to demonstrate some proficiency at.

What ended up happening, though, was that the two-month time-out did me unexpected good. I didn’t go to class during that period, but I kept practicing karate around the house. (Just ask Steph and the kids; they’ll tell you that it can be difficult to get me to knock it off and stop interfering with whatever they’re trying to do.) And what I did during that time was to take UberHardMove and break it down into components, the way I had previously been shown as a blue belt[2]. I combined that with specific suggestions given to me by both Carlos Sensei and Liam Sensei and picked UberHardMove down to bare bones.

When I finally came back to class, I came back finally believing that the whole concept of me one day earning my black belt wasn’t the world’s best joke. I came back believing that I’d already invested nearly two years and I was willing to invest even more. I didn’t have to be perfect; I gave myself permission to suck. I knew that I was going to make stupid mistakes that I wouldn’t make (like mixing up techniques in lower level katas) if I’d been in class the whole time. I knew that my endurance was going to be awful. I knew that there was a lot of rust to scrub off and deal with and that it wasn’t going to happen immediately. I knew that I needed to let my instructors know that I desperately needed help with my tuite techniques. I knew that I was going to have to have them explain the same things about UberHardMove multiple times until I finally grokked it. In short, I accepted failure without accepting being a failure.

That was March. I tested near the end of May. Somewhere in there, I became proficient with my tuite. I learned a measure of peace with UberHardMove; I’m still not great at it, but I mastered it enough to move on to the next lessons[3]. Perfection is in fact is a bad word in our household. We think the concept of perfection is one of the worst lies that the Adversary ever got humans to accept.

When you stop trying to be perfect – when you give yourself permission to have flaws and failings and determine to be honest about them and learn from them rather than try to cover them up – something amazing tends to happen. You accept “doing your best” instead of “doing it better than everyone else.” You accept “that’s enough for now” instead of “that’s not good enough yet.” You develop a sense of faith that over time, your progress will trend upwards. With that faith, you can draw valuable lessons from your mistakes and missteps. You stop fighting the basic physical and neurological limits of how your body and mind acquire new proficiencies and start working within your limits to expand them instead of struggling against them to tear them down with brute force. You acquire patience – new and fledgling, but the seed of something that starts to affect how you deal with all of your life.

I’m no paragon of patience, but I can see clear changes. For example, I’ve been spending far less time playing Call of Duty on the Xbox in the last month or so. I have a better understanding of how that experience has been frustrating instead of fun and relaxing and I’m less willing to give in to that anymore.

I don’t know where this will go ultimately or at what pace. I can honestly say, though, that I’m okay with that. Will I get my black belt? I don’t know; there are many circumstances that could prevent or delay that. However, I certainly want to, and I finally know I’m capable of doing it, so I wouldn’t bet against me. But I also know that’s just another waypoint on the journey. It’s not an end. It’s a marker where I can say, “See what I’ve done so far? That’s pretty cool. Now I’ve learned enough that I can get serious about learning this stuff and helping pass it on to others.”

Two months ago, I’d have said I couldn’t wait for that day. You know what? That’s not true. I can wait. I will wait. And I will do so profitably.

[1] In our style, at least. There are other styles that place another Pinan kata before Pinan Shodan.

[2] In a nice twist of synchronicity, the person who showed me was at the time was a helpful brown belt from Mukilteo who ended up being one of the two black belts I got to watch test. He has continued to be an amazing source of inspiration for me through what is now a large number of discouraging situations. Hi, Max!

[3] It’s not going away; I still practice it, and I know that it will get better as I learn more. In fact, those final four moves in Pinan Nidan where I’m in a cat stance might be helpful here, hmmm…

Two karate blessings

These past 14 months that I’ve been a karate student have given me a number of deeply satisfying moments, including the joy of sharing an activity with my daughter. Last Tuesday, however, proved to be an especially fruitful class for both of us.

Starting in September, the YMCA agreed to try out dropping class fees for YMCA members, and as you might imagine, we immediately saw a small but steady wave of new sign-ups for class. As a result, for the first time in a while, we have a good number of new students – white belts. As a result, we spend a large chunk of class time going back over many of the basic techniques in more detail than we’ve gotten used to. Those of us who are higher belts get to work with the white belts one-on-one during many of these exercises. This proves beneficial to everyone – they get a personal workout, and we get a mirror to more clearly see how well we’ve mastered the basics (or not, as it usually happens).

The first blessing was working with a gentleman who has been in class somewhere around a month. He and I were working through one-step exercises: one person performs a basic punch attack while the other defends, then we switch roles. We do this with seven defenses. As you work through the ranks, the defense techniques get more complicated, but for white belt one-steps, it’s pretty simple. Or so it seems now after a year; they were quite challenging when I first started and I got to re-experience that working with this gentleman. During our practice, he had one of those epiphany moments and what had been a struggle suddenly turned into AHA! with a clarity we both felt. It was an honor to be working with him in that moment.

The second blessing came about indirectly because of some misbehavior. You see, our protocol and customs direct us to pay attention and not engage in side conversations or monkey business when sensei is teaching. (Turns out there are no exceptions for “if you think you already know this” or “if you’re bored.” I checked. Who knew?) Well, several of us – including me and Treanna – weren’t quite paying attention to that one, and the senior student got called on it. I later told Treanna that he’d taken one for the team; we all were equally guilty of inattention. As class was drawing to an end, though, Treanna engaged in another breach of protocol that earned her some gentle ribbing. (She might read this, so I won’t tell you what she did. This time.)

Being a vigilant father and role model, I immediately realized we had what the experts call “a teachable moment” here. So we cracked open our karate notebooks and made a date to come back tonight after dinner, both having read the protocols, and discuss what we’d found:

  • There are three basic sets of protocol in our notebook: white belt (people who’ve just joined), blue belt (9th kyu, or your first belt), and orange belt (7th kyu, or your third belt). After reading them, we decided that they all have the common themes of respect, safety, and responsibility.
  • We think that white belt protocol focuses mainly on the what habits I need to become a student (discipline). That is, all of the guidance seems to be directed more at helping the newcomer gain the structures he will need to effectively learn karate.
  • We think that blue belt protocol focuses mainly on how I become a member of the community (identity). This comes after the first belt (typically earned after several months) and the guidance is more focused on becoming aware of and fitting into the dojo structure.
  • Finally, we think that orange belt protocol focuses mainly on how I give back to the community (service). This comes after three belts and around a year of study – a good foundation from which to be able to start learning to progress by helping others.
  • As a final note, we saw that there was no specific protocol for further belts. We speculate that’s because the student in green and brown belts is expected to do the same things she is already doing, just to a greater degree. And once she gets to black belt – that’s a watershed mark, and sensei will teach us what is expected of us on that day at the proper time.

If you’re not in a martial art, that’s probably boring and generic. To Treanna and I, though, it seemed pretty profound, and I think we’ll walk back into class tomorrow with a new-found sense of focus and commitment.

A Path of Nines

Nine months ago I stepped outside of my comfort zone and started a month of karate at the local YMCA. I didn’t expect to renew for a second month. It turns out that I love it. I’ve gotten to the point that I start dreaming about the things I’m doing, which is scary on one level and very cool on others. At any rate, I’ve had a lot of thoughts that need more time to flesh out and probably will only interest my fellow students, but I do want to share a few correspondences I’ve noticed lately between karate and the number nine.

  • There are nine belts, or kyus, between rank beginner and black belt in my school of karate (which is part of the All-Okinawan Shorin-Ryu Matsumura Karate and Kobudo Federation, or OSMKKF). As of tonight, I have passed three of them. That makes me 7th kyu — what you might call orange belt, except that we don’t actually use the orange belt (or even stripes on the belts); we just have three blue belt kyus, three green, and three brown. I like this because it helps minimize rivalry between students.
  • The blue belt kyus use the same basic kata, with what look to be minor differences for each kyu — mostly in the blocking techniques you demonstrate. The footwork, though, is the same, and it requires you to face the nine cardinal points of the compass (the normal eight plus the center position for the beginning and end of the kata). All too often we learn the specific steps of the kata and don’t stop to think about how the overall pattern looks or rhythm flows. That’s the kind of stuff I’ve started dreaming about, and man, it is cool!
  • I have learned to examine the first kata at a whole new level with each additional kyu, and I have been told that this will continue. So the very first kata they teach us unpacks to at least nine separate layers! No wonder it takes years to really master this stuff! Some students make the mistake of thinking they’ve learned everything they need to know from the earlier levels; I’ve already had at least case of figuring out how a current technique I was mastering applied to an earlier technique, making both of them stronger as a result.
  • In a typical Tuesday evening workout, I will practice various katas an average of nine times. This typically includes polishing the kata I will next be testing for and learning the basics of the next kata. There are days this does not feel like it is enough — and that would be right. So we practice at home too; in fact, there are certain parts that I find myself practicing at work as I walk back and forth from my office to the kitchen or to co-workers’ offices. (Apparently I look really funny walking through the lobby practicing punches.)
  • For my next kyu, I start to fold in weapons work (which is the kobudo part; karate is technically only bare-hand work). I will first work with the bo staff, which is six feet or 72 inches tall — nine times eight. I’m tremendously excited to be working with the bo; somewhere in my head, the iconic definition or avatar of martial arts got associated with being a bad-ass with the staff, so now I feel like I’m finally stepping into the heart of what it means to be a martial artist. Intellectually, I realize this is silly, but it still feels true.

Don’t worry; I’m not trying to seriously assert that the number nine somehow has some sort of mystic foothold in karate (that would be number ten, which in Japanese is ju, and controls our workouts). I just noticed these and was amused. What’s been more awe-inspiring has been noticing the changes in the last nine months:

  • I’ve continued to lose weight. Granted, I’ve not experienced the same dramatic pace as I did in the first month, but it’s still a slow and steady drop. This is really cool given some of the interruptions and stressors I’ve had during these nine months that have wreaked havoc with my karate attendance.
  • My overall muscle tone has improved. You probably wouldn’t notice the difference, but I certainly do. Certain actions are a lot less effort than they used to be, and there is visible muscle definition amongst the remaining layers of pudge.
  • My endurance has increased. Right now I’m at that point where if I miss a week and a half of karate, I definitely feel it, but if I attend regularly I can make it through the workouts and not feel completely beat up. More importantly, I’m better able to keep up as the speed of some of the workouts increases; if I slow down it’s to perfect technique, not because I can’t do it.
  • My reflexes have improved. This has been the startling one for me, because as long as I can remember my reflexes have sucked. I’m still no Chuck Norris or Bruce Lee, but the other day I knocked a glass tumbler off the counter and caught it without looking directly at it. Whoa!

By some counts, these last nine months have gotten me a third of the way to black belt. I don’t feel that way; I feel that they’ve set my feet on a path that I’ll still be walking for years to come. I’m not worried about belts or kyus; that’s sensei’s job to track, not mine. I just have to get through each workout, each kata, each set of one-steps, each class having given my best and learned everything I can. The rest will take care of itself. I’d never have caught that glass if I’d been trying to learn it as a trick, but by focusing on each step while I’m at it, I’ve gotten my body — as out of shape as it still is — to a point where I can do things I’ve never been able to do before. And that, friends, is magic.

Empty hand

In my previous post, I talked about taking a class at the local YMCA. You may have noticed that I didn’t mention which class I was taking; that wasn’t by accident. I didn’t feel like talking about it until I knew it wasn’t going to be another fad.
Well, last Tuesday, sensei awarded me my 9th Kyu blue belt, so now I feel comfortable announcing that I’ve been taking Okinawan Shorin-Ryu Matsumura Karate for the past couple of months. I started it in the beginning of July, the same week of personal vacation that the kids started their summer introduction class. Since that time, I’ve lost 20 pounds — desperately needed — and have started to gain some measure of confidence that I can do this. I’m no prodigy, but I can plod step by step really well, and I’m already seeing huge benefits to my physical coordination.
More importantly, I’ve discovered three very important things about myself:

  1. I am no longer afraid of pain. I walk into every class knowing that the workout is going to wipe me out and that it’s going to, on some level, suck eggs. I am always right — I’m badly winded, have sore muscles, and more than once have been so dizzy I almost passed out. Yet I keep coming back for more, and I’ve finally gotten to the point that my brain isn’t desperately trying to find excuses for skipping class.
  2. Somewhere along the way, I’ve started to internalize the philosophy of “one step at a time.” I haven’t really dwelt on the whole “Devin with a black belt” thing, because that’s a heck of a lot of work and is way beyond my capabilities now. Heck, being asked to test for my blue belt was a surprise (albit a pleasant one). Our dojo teaches that it’s discourteous to ask sensei if you’re ready to test; he knows when you’re ready and will tell you. For the first time in my life, I have absolutely no difficulty in following that advice. I really do not look beyond what sensei tells me to do in a given class; I’m content to work on that and trust sensei to keep track of the big picture. (For my autistic self, this is a HUGE step.)
  3. Probably the biggest one: I enjoy this. It’s probably one of the most physically demanding things I’ve ever done. I’ve spent hours of time at home slowly walking through each phase of the simplest technqiues. A simple step-double punch technique is really hard for me, because it involves coordinating so many things — hand positions, feet placement, breathing, wrist rotation, proper fist alignment, and more. I don’t find this stuff at all easy, and now I have lots of things to keep track of. My response is to treat it like choreography for theater — break it down into small components and practice each of those. Unlike dancing, though, when I put the pieces back together, the results aren’t laughable — and I’m totally enjoying the process.

Since the classes are at the YMCA and not a dedicated dojo, things are relatively informal. We’re tied in with several other dojos in the area (most of them also in YMCA facilities nearby) and are part of a bigger federation. The teachers and students are all great; very supportive and not at all competitive or dismissive. I don’t feel ashamed for letting my health slide for so long; I just feel like I have help in going where I want to go. I’ve gotten to the point where I look forward to each class.

The beatings shall continue until the anatomy improves

One of the reasons I’ve been a lot quieter on the blog front for the past month is Call of Duty 4 (actually, let’s be honest; that’s one of the ways I’ve chosen to spend a lot of my free time since Christmas). However, at the beginning of July, I added a new reason: I started taking a class two days a week at the local new YMCA.

This class has been kicking my butt, but it’s been good for me. Our main teacher — we’ll call him PT — is a doctor and can’t always be there. If that happens, we have a backup teacher (named ST). Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve seen a lot of ST, and his warmups usually have me breaking a good sweat. Well, PT was back tonight…and oh my GOODNESS, he is a LOT more grueling. I actually got dizzy and had to step out for a minute. My shoulders hurt, my legs hurt, my arms hurt, all in that “OMGWTF you did WHAT to us???” way that really lazy muscles get.

I do not like this. I do not like barely having enough energy to drive home, eat, and make it through a shower. I do not like being this out of shape. It seems that PT doesn’t like it either, and he’s determined to help me fix all these things. It’s a good thing I’m tired of being slothful and rotund; I know that, left to my own devices, I would never drive myself this hard. The class is small and I like the other students, enough so that my poor body image is outweighed by my desire to not look like a complete wuss in front of these people. And they have been very helpful and supportive.

I guess I get to continue this course of action. The only way out: make there be less of me, so that it doesn’t hurt so bad when PT gets his hands on me. I’ve even started noticing that I’m cutting down on the snacks and treats at work and at home — I look at them and find myself thinking about how they’re going to make PT’s next workout that much harder.

Yay for progress?

No stopping for CO2

I really should have done it months ago.

Last weekend, I gave up pop (or soda, or soda pop, or Coke — whatever you call it in your neck of the woods) again. This time, other than an occasional treat, I think I’ve given it up for good.

Now that I’m trying to get on a regular exercise schedule, continuing to pour hundreds of empty calories down my throat each day is just stupid and counterproductive. (If you’re going to suggest diet soda, stop. I could — if I decided I wanted to, which I don’t — probably force myself to get used to the nasty taste, and they all taste nasty to me regardless of what sugar substitute they use. More importantly, though, the chemicals they use are all harder on my system than good old sugar or even high fructose corn syrup, and high fructose corn syrup is pretty nasty stuff.)

Let’s also not discount the effect on our food budget. Even if I can confine myself to two cans of soda a day, that’s a twelve-pack every six days, or five twelve-packs each month. That adds up fast.

I’m not so much concerned about the caffeine; I still eat chocolate, drink tea (black, green, and herbal, thanks!), and otherwise indulge in caffeine-laden goodies. I am getting less caffeine overall, though, which can only help mitigate my already pronounced tendency toward sleep issues and insomnia (which only got worse once I started drinking soda on a regular basis).

The big win, as far as I’m concerned, is getting rid of the carbonation. While carbonation can have some good side effects (namely, it is thought to help kill bacteria in water), I don’t travel enough in underdeveloped countries (i.e., anywhere outside of the Seattle metro area) to need this benefit. On the other hand, carbonation is just a bunch of carbon dioxide (CO2) filtered through the water. I’m sure all of my readers remember their elementary biology classes, but if you don’t, let me remind you that carbon dioxide is a waste gas for all mammals. Our bodies try to get this stuff out of our system as quickly as possible, because it can do a number on us. (If you’re a plant, you want carbon dioxide. I’m not a plant, despite all the times that I’ve been compared to trees, usually in the “stupid as” or “lazy as” mode, so I don’t want it. Any questions?)

Some of the bad things carbon dioxide does for you:

  • CO2 attacks calcium. Everyone’s heard about the whole “Coke is so acidic, it rots your teeth!” meme. There’s a good body of evidence that suggests that it isn’t the acid that’s doing the damage, since healthy tooth enamel is supposed to be impervious to this kind of stuff. CO2, though, can weaken the calcium and contribute to tooth decay. This is why heavy pop drinkers — even those who stick to “lighter” drinks such as Sprite or ginger ale — often have bad problems with their teeth. In some cases, CO2 can even contribute to osteoporosis.
  • CO2 irritates your stomach lining. This leads to bloating, indigestion, and over time decreases your ability to get the maximum benefit from the food you eat, leading you to eat more to get the same nutritional value. In the meantime, you’re eating extra calories, which are being turned straight into fat.
  • C02 irritates your esophagus. Esophageal spasms, anyone?
  • CO2 is absorbed much more quickly through your stomach lining into your bloodstream, and it can take a whole lot of substances with it. This is why carbonated alcoholic beverages, for example, often feel like they have a quicker impact than an non-carbonated beverage of approxiately equal proof.
  • Elevated levels of CO2 in your bloodstream contribute to feelings of drowsiness and sleepiness. This really sucks if you’re, oh, say, trying to drive through commuter traffic at the time, or trying to get a paper finished by 5pm.

So, yeah, I’ve given it the heave-ho. I fully expect that my next carbonated beverage will be on the plane to Arizona for the holidays, where I will indulge in my normal flight ritual of a can of ginger ale. It will be a tasty treat for me, and that’s that.

Oddly enough, now that I’ve been doing this for a couple of days, I’m seeing some dramatic changes. This morning, for example, I woke up 30 minutes ahead of the alarm. My eyes just popped open and I felt completely awake and ready for the day; I had none of my normal grogginess or disorientation. I’d been sleeping for maybe 6.5 hours, instead of the 9+ I’ve been having lately. More importantly, I had the clarity of thought and energy to immediately go downstairs and do my Combat Conditioning exercises. I noticed I had less trouble doing them (such as cramps and unpleasant tingling/itching in my calves) and felt like they really gave me a big energy boost for the day.

So what will I be drinking? Lots of water, lots of Steph’s wonderful herbal/green iced tea mix, and probably more than a few cups of green tea to sip on to keep my liquids up and supply myself with antioxidants. This strategy is per advice from Matt Furey and a few other sources I’ve seen recently. We’ll see how it goes.

I’m lazy

If you’ve ever met me in person (or seen a full-body photograph of me), then you know that I’m more than a touch convex. The life of a sysadmin doesn’t really include enough of the right type of exercise to keep a body trim and slim, and the life of a technical writer is even less physically demanding. Now, many of my peers and co-workers have the discipline to maintain some sort of physical fitness regime, but I never really have.

The two times in my life when I was in the best physical shape were my junior year of high school, when I had spent a year and a half of cycling around a very hilly town on a beat-up ten speed (I had great legs then — Cassandra Guiwitz told me so, and I don’t think she was just being nice — even if they were pale), and during boot camp, when this smart mouth of mine helped ensure a regular flow of pushups, situps, eight-count body builders, and other fun activities.

Last week, when I was away for business travel, I had one of those moments when I basically decided that I was done sitting around like a lump on a log.

To pull back for a moment: several months ago just before Lent, during one of my assorted Web searches, I happened to run across a physical fitness program called Combat Conditioning, offered by a wrestler named Matt Furey. It doesn’t take much Googling to figure out that there is a lot of controversy surrounding Matt and his programs. The core of his argument is that if you’re looking to build maximum usable strength, endurance, and flexibility, weight training may be hurting you more than it helps you. Sure, it helps bulk up the muscles and gives you a bigger bench press, but can those muscles keep putting out their peak effort for a long period of time? Matt doesn’t think so; he thinks that using your own body weight is all the load you need to get and stay fit. His Combat Conditioning program centers around what he calls his “Royal Court” of exercises: the Hindu squat, the Hindu pushup, and the back bridging exercise. Do these three exercises long enough to get proficient, he advises, then start slowly adding additional exercises to help stretch and target other muscles, and you’ll be more fit than you’ve ever been before.

Now, few if any of his detractors complain about the squat and pushup exercises (although they are a bit snippy that he’s renamed them), but they go wild over the bridging. “It’s dangerous!” they cry. “You could hurt yourself badly!” Well, yes, which is why all of Matt’s advice tells you to never start a new exercise plan without the advice of your doctor, and why he tells you over and over how to do the bridging safely. He even gives several alternatives, including the use of one of those big exercise balls.

By the time I’d finished reading, I was intrigued enough to want to give some of his claims a try, despite the take-no-prisoners marketing spiel he uses. (I’ve written some marketing material of my own for various projects, so I was impressed by how sensible his claims really are when you strip away the adverbs. Unlike most personal fitness trainers, he’s not promising you the moon.) For the first week of Lent, I managed to do the Hindu squats and pushups and began to notice a significant improvement in how I felt. Sure, my legs were a touch sore, but I was starting to have energy that didn’t come from the bottom of the Coke can. I was also starting to sleep better at night and by the end of the first week, all those little aches and pains I’ve come to accept as a part of my life were missing or muted. I forget what happened, but I fell off the exercise routine for the rest of Lent, and soon moved back into the Land of Feeling Like Poo.

Back to last week. I was in the San Francisco airport, waiting to catch my final flight home, and decided I needed to get something to eat. I finally found a Burger King and grabbed a meal, which I began eating as I headed back for my gate to join the boarding for my flight. I got to the gate (most of the passengers had boarded by this time), into my seat, and was finishing my tasty chicken burger when I had a mild esophageal spasm. As I’ve gained weight through the years, I’ve had more and more problems with this ailment; in a nutshell, every now and then something happens to disrupt my esophagus from moving food down to my stomach in an orderly fashion. The food gets stuck, which causes varying amounts of discomfort or pain, and it can often require several minutes to get everything working again.

I’ll spare you the unpleasant details — suffice it to say that I thought I was going to prevent the plane from taking off on time, and I had the flight attendants scared for a couple of minutes there — but the thing I remember most clearly is sitting back in my seat and thinking, “I never had this trouble when I was healthy and not carrying all these extra pounds. I do not want to live like this anymore.” We’d ordered the Combat Conditioning DVD and book set the previous week, and they’d arrived the Monday I was on my way down to San Diego. At that point, I made the commitment to restarting the exercises.

So, for this last week I’ve been trying to build the habit of physical fitness. We picked up an exercise ball over the weekend, so both Steph and I have been using it to supplement the bridging exercise. Wow — what a difference the bridging makes to the rest of them. I’ve already passed the first hurdle — my legs ached for a day or two, making it difficult to walk — and I’m starting to feel good again.

I’m tired of being fat and feeling old. This time, though, I’m doing something about it.