it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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if i had a box just for wishes and dreams that would never come true--

!!!following discussion of athletic considerations and/or calorie control may be triggery for people with food/weight issues. also, stuff about climbing and writing

ETA:
NB: If I somehow gave anybody the idea I was looking for diet advice, thanks, but I'm not. I've had this meat for 37 years now and I pretty much know how it runs.

Raven. Raven.

(verb, not noun.) I'm starving this morning, and I have not yet gotten off my butt to shower and dress and eat something--and get to work, which is the next issue on the agenda, but discipline is currently failing me.

The reason I raven is because I'm still trying to drop some weight for climbing, and in practical terms that means a lot of going to bed hungry. Le sigh.

Minor intake cuts do me no good; I can be burning over 3K a day (right now, with the running and climbing, I'm burning between 2500 and 3200 calories a day) and unless I take my intake down under 1800, any weight loss is strictly on the order of a pound a month or so. No matter WHAT the silly metric thinks about a 500 calorie a day deficit being a pound a week.

However, comma, while I am not down nearly as much as Fitday thinks I should be, I am down about twelve pounds since I got serious about the diet. With concommittant improvement on the wall. The trick is to keep enough protein coming in not to lose muscle mass.

Strength-weight ration matters in climbing, like it matters in cycling, and one of the really funny things about it is that if you pack on muscle like I do... well, since last October, I gained twenty-five pounds (I went from 223 to 248) while losing an entire jeans size. So I have gotten hugely stronger, but I've also gotten heavier. I have this fabulous Ukrainian metabolism that's optimized for famine, baby. It turns food into resources. Fat! Muscle! Yeah, we can use that come winter.

...yeah. No, really. I suspect I am currently carrying more muscle than I ever have in my life, even when I was weightlifting and doing kickboxing. I pack on muscle like a guy, and I have the frame of an ox.

Anyway, I honestly don't think I can put on a lot more muscle without doing not-so-nice things to my ligaments. So my current goal for climbing better is to take off as much of the weight that only serves as insulation and ballast as possible, which will also have the added benefit of making me more flexible. And I've gotten it down to around 236, with great privation. But man, I'm hungry. And as soon as I develop some motivation, I'm going to get up and do something about that.

Motivation. Discipline.

Sometimes, it seems as if everything in my life is about discipline. And sometimes it feels like I fall down on the job. Climbing, running, writing. It all takes discipline. (The thing about climbing is that the first wall or two sucks. Your body really doesn't want to do that shit. And then you get into the groove and the endorphins kick in and it's fun. But that first wall? OMG.)

The guitar practice and math study I have been so very bad about keeping up with lately. The unfortunate necessity of cleaning up this place so I don't have to live in a plague pit.

You know, the usual stuff.

Discipline.

Especially in the damned writing. There are things in this life that I want to be doing right now, and working on Chill Sanction Chill is not one of them. But you have to get up out of your chair and do the daily labor if you want to eat the next day. You have to get behind the mule in the morning, to quote the immortal Tom Waits, and plow.

So of course I'm sitting here blogging because I am avoiding starting my day because I would rather be hungry and uncoffeeed than work on this book. I'm back in the middle, you see, and the middle is always boring. But in a minute, here, I'm going to stand up and go shower and get dressed and OMG eat something and then I'm going to write until it's time to go to archery.

This is me plowing.

Dude. Watch me plow.
Tags: falling off perfectly good rocks, project: less-of-me, pudge report, the writer at work
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