Over the last few months I have had a fascination with the history of exercise, specifically the era of Physical Culture; that turn of the 19th to 20th century period that introduced exercise as socially acceptable. They had discovered that as more and more of the physical labor activities that are required to sustain life were replaced by machines and administrative tasks, the body began to fatten, suffer from muscular atrophy and suffer from disease. Sound familiar. At the beginning of the 21st century matters are even worse; less labor, even more sedentary, processed foods that have infinite shelf lives, maximum calorie density and minimal nutritional value and of course the diseases; diabetes, heart disease, cancer, depression, hormone imbalance (low T and excessive E), Alzheimer’s, etc….
As a child of the early 60’s, I can vaguely remember what my maternal grandparents ate. Generally there was a meat (chicken), there were always potatoes and there was always a vegetable. I remember water at the dinner table because milk was for breakfast. I don’t remember there ever being a soft drink in that house. That’s probably the closest I will get to turn of the 20th century food. My grandparents were by no means fat. And they did not die of diabetes, cancers or heart issues. They just grew old and passed, active to the end.
Personally, I grew up on PB&J, caned ravioli and hot dogs. However unfashionable for the 60’s, both my parents worked, so food that was convenient (came in a box or a can) to prepare was the mainstay of our family’s nutrition. Because my dad ran his own business, he was in charge of summer lunches. Like most dads, he was nutritionally challenged and generally bologna, salami, Miracle Whip and Wonder Bread and sometimes Spam were involved. My mom was not a great (or even good) cook, meat was always burned and spaghetti was globs of hamburger grease and chunks of tomato poured over cooked pasta from a box. Cakes and cookies were always from a box and there were literally cases of 6oz Cokes in the garage. School lunches and Navy chow lines kept me from starving and served me well into young adulthood. I don’t ever remember being hungry, nor do I remember eating until I was bloated. My dad was on the ‘chunky’ side and died of heart failure; he was a heart patient for over 30 years. My mom at 84 still battles with weight (read as fat) loss.
As a young married couple in the 70’s, my wife and I could only afford to eat out once a week and generally we would hit up the ‘Golden Arches’. That is when real potato French Fries were in vogue. Yes folks; there was a time that Mickey D’s severed up fries with potato skins. I remember sitting on the tailgate of my ’71 Ford pickup, sharing a paper envelope of REAL potato fries and a 10oz Coke with my new bride. Big Macs and Fish Sandwiches were too expensive. Our grocery list was limited to milk, eggs, hotdogs and macaroni and cheese. So based on economics, we lived on a calorie restricted diet and just before my 1st son was born, my 5’9” frame weighed only 135 lbs. When I look at pictures from that period, I think ‘My God, what concentration camp did I return from’.
As we fast forward to the 90’s and roll into the 21st century, I remember a time when I could eat a Big Mac, a Quarter Pounder with Cheese, a large fry plus eat anything my kids or wife didn’t. There were never any left over’s. There was ice cream, milk shakes, cheese cake. Hell, I remember eating entire blueberry pies and at BBQ’s, eating 6 or more hotdogs with all the fixins. There was no limit to my appetite. Cigarettes, a job on your feet all day and a once a day junk food meal pattern kept my waistline in check from the time I was 27 until I was 40 or so.
Then there was this period of high stress jobs, breakfasts consisting of cigarettes, coffee and doughnuts then waiting until 9:00 or 10:00 pm to finally eat a meal and then eat everything that didn’t eat me first; life caught up with me. At 46, I had my first blood work done for an industrial physical and I remember the PA telling me I had something called ‘High Cholesterol’. Yep, pushing 200 pounds, still smoking and the dietary habits of a starving dog; I was heading down the path of diabetes, heart disease, lung and prostate cancer, and whatever else that lifestyle brings.
Two years later (at 48), I had finally succumbed to feeling like crap ALL of the time. I couldn’t sleep unless I was driving or reading work documents (bad Ju-Ju), I was always thirsty, I had to pee 500 times a day, Tylenol was my best friend and it seemed like every time I stepped on a scale I had gained another 10 pounds. I finally reached out to a doctor for help. Initially it was to quit smoking and later, it was to diagnose me with Pre-Type 2 Diabetes. Pre-Diabetes; who’d a thought you had to practice the disease to actually get it. It took 6 months to finally ditch the cigarettes and another year on 80 mg of Lipitor to quote; ‘stabilize the cholesterol condition’. And during this period the weight didn’t stop climbing; my apogee was around 220 pounds. I was in the doctor’s office every 3 months; getting more blood work and having the doctor continually threaten me with more drugs, and finally after a fasted glucose of over 140 mg/dl he had actually written me a prescription for Metformin. I never did fill that prescription; I found a nutritionist and a personal trainer instead.
The nutritionist, Nurse Mabel, an RN about 90, asked me what I typically ate. I remember talking about eating 6 hotdogs at weekend BBQ’s. She started me down the path of ‘Writing It Down’; document everything that goes into your mouth and then we can reteach you ‘how’ to eat. She was a pretty smart woman and I worked with her for close to a year. And my trainer, he was a 60 year old retired executive who worked part time at the local court club; Frank was his name. I think the original weight loss program the club advertised was Apex (or something). Frank weighed me in, collected skin fold and tape measure data then asked about diet. When I explained the situation and that I was seeing a nutritionist, the conversation immediately shifted to exercise. He knew what I was after and he knew the odds of actually following through were somewhere less that 1%. I worked with Frank for another 6 months then set off on my own. Again, he had me ‘write everything down’. It was a team effort, a doctor, a professional nutritionist and a trainer, all working to keep me off of the meds. And I remember telling my doctor that I was going to give diet and exercise a try before taking any more drugs and showing him my notes and schedules from the nutritionist and the trainer. His quote to me; ‘it doesn’t matter, in 5 years you’ll be on diabetes medications’. That really hit pretty hard. From his perspective, no one has stuck with a program past 5 years. That was 2004.
Now 10 years later I can attest that; if you work hard at your diet, minimizing sugar and processed food, and you are consistent with intense exercise, the 30 minutes a day of healthy walking just doesn’t cut it, you can beat back the most common degenerative diseases. You can repair your body and attain a Healthier You. You just need to live in a Physical Culture.
So, on this anniversary, after 10 years, when I finally get back to the states and catch up on my annual physicals, I will remind my Pill Pusher; it is 10 years and I’m still off the medications. Oh and by the way, I’m beating the odds and I’m gaining on that Last 10 Pounds.
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