Of those 34" Waist Shorts in My Drawer . . . .

Tried 'em today.

I'd wear them around the house now.

The end of August brings real possibilities. If that goal is achieved, we're talking college weight. We might think of that as my "fighting weight."

There was a time that seemed like irrational delusion. It is now within reach.

I've mixed in a daily 2-3 mile walk. I turn on my "Workout" playlist on the Ipod, and off I go. Among the artists I hurriedly step to? AC/DC, Boston, Chicago (the Terry Kath era), Van Halen (Red Rocker's era is better for walking, Diamond Dave is better for rockin'), The Who.

The stand by list, depending on my mood, is too great to list here.

Time for a daily go on the TotalGym for muscle tone.

Larger goals persist yet.

As I prepare to enter my 44th year in a few days, I want to do what I've never been able to sustain thus far.

That is, make significant weight loss not the end, but the means to the end of life patterns. If I can sustain my weight and pattern of life until my (deep breath) 50th year, I will have ingrained a pattern, I hope, to see me through the last chapters of my journey upon this earthen sod.

That's the plan.

A May Potpourri

A few random thoughts on a number of different issues:

Evidently, to be seen as a credible political candidate, you have to "denounce" your preacher.

Recent admittedly inflammatory, if not conspiratorial comments by Rev'd Dr. Wright have demanded a response from the political candidate who used to call him pastor, or spiritual advisor, or person he only sorta once knew. It all gets to be a bit much after awhile, doesn't it? I'm the first to make it clear that we clergy are not perfect and that some of us relish our "humanity" a bit more than others. Some of us heed well the maxim of the great Protestant Reformer, Martin Luther, who said that if we were to sin, then "sin boldly."

I'm not going to parse what Dr. Wright said or didn't say. Frankly, I was surprised he was silent as long as he was, but when he spoke, brother came out swinging, didn't he? Think about it - would you want the sum of your professional life reduced to a few words?

But one word of caution - it is easy to dismiss larger truths when they are wrapped in what appears to be rambling, if not at times irrational rhetoric. One thing's for certain, he didn't need any help from the YouTuber's who looped sound bites out of context - he can get it plenty stirred up on his own in context. But as I alluded in a previous post, to dismiss the prophet completely is to dismiss what the prophet points toward.

So if any of my congregants run for office (again), I give you blanket permission up front to "denounce" me if it helps the cause. But if denouncing me helps your cause, I have to wonder if your cause is one I'd want to be a part of anyway.

*******

The first of the month brought with it an anniversary. We passed the one year anniversary of my intentional efforts to get my weight down and live a healthier life. For about six months, I was a “JC”man - right there with the girls from "Cheers" and "One Day at a Time."

And I hated it.

Nice enough folks, to be sure - but in the end, the issue with JC is the cost against the basic tenet they preach. It's not nutrition so much (although that's there), but portion control.

During that time, I logged my progress on this blog. I did it as much as a means to make me be accountable at a time when it was clear that I was not able to do it on my own. I've appreciated the words of encouragement and support that helped assuage the powerful self-loathing I was experiencing for allowing myself to get into such a mess.

Since October of 2007, I've managed and progressed on my own. I've not weighed in some time. My guess, based on how I was charting before I stopped weighing weekly, is a total loss thus far of between 45-50 lbs. But the measure I go by is how I feel, and the daily-ness of being aware of what I'm eating. A regular day for me has me eating 1,750 calories. A splurge is 2,500.

And then there's this -

Today, Kristy told me to go into Andrew's room and pack up some clothes he can't wear anymore to take to Neighborhood Centers. In that stack was a pair of short that he wore last Summer for our family portrait on the beach. 34" waist. I figured, what the heck, let's see what happens. I had already achieved one goal and made it so I could wear 36" waist jeans again (I'm wearing a pair even right now as I write this). So, with the shorts, one leg in - so far so good, the other...uhh, a bit snug but they're on. And now, the moment of truth --yes, I fastened them. No, I can't wear them out of the house. I won't wear them in the house, not yet---but those shorts are not going to Neighborhood Centers. Nope, I put them in my drawer. August, 2008. That's my goal.

*******

And speaking of my beloved Andrew...
guess who's driving now on the streets of Memphis and Shelby County?

One more rite of passage to be sure. It's fun watching him transition from utter fear at the prospect of driving at all to asking virtually every time we get into the car, "can I drive?" Funny how one goes from willingness to receive any and all instruction to looks of dismissal at the very notion that we, the experienced drivers have anything to offer.

But watching him drive (and, by the way, he drives more with his mother than with me - wonder if that means anything?) it occurs to me that my family is growing up - right in front of my eyes. And I wonder how am I growing as a man, a father and husband - how am I growing as a pastor, now over 20 years under appointment? To stop growing, or even to try to be more than what we were is to be complacent with what we are - and no where in the Gospel do I get the indication that Jesus gives us room for that.

One more step on the journey.

This day.

Every day.

JC - Update - THE WALL

- .1

Are you kidding me? .1?

Is this where my age is catching up?

No worries - still plugging.

JC - Update

- 1.7

back to square

now, time to get to work - I've at least 25 to go.

JC - Update

+ 1.7

No excercise and ate out too much.

No worries, I got this.

JC - Update

for the last week of August

-4.5 (with jeans on)

Total lost - 30

JC - Update, Or, What Happens When You Don't Let Yourself Be Held Accountable Weekly

Haven't weighed-in for two weeks.

+ 2.7

Hard to be suprised. I got what I earned.

"Here comes that self-loathing feelin' again."

JC - July

-3.6

Total - 27.6

JC - Update

For the few of you monitoring my progress - no report until week 10 when I get back from vacation. We'll see how I do. Hopefully, no backsliding.

JC - Week Six

-5.5

Total -24

JC - Week Five

- 3.0

Total - 18.5

JC - Week Two

- 4.3

total -12.9

JC - Week One

- 8.6

Nothing to brag about - rather, a simple indicator of the relative amount that needs to be lost.

I've spent most of this week really disappointed in myself - that I'm in the spot I'm in.

I'm a JC Man

A disclaimer - this one's a little raw, if your sensibilities are easily offended, move on.

You who know me, and love me anyway, which, by the by, I appreciate immensely, know that there are two "Johnnys."

The difference between Johnny 1 and Johnny 2 is about 50lbs.

Last week, as I stepped on the scale (more about that in a minute) it was clear which Johnny I was dealing with.

It's not like I didn't know it already.

I did.

The clothes in my closet I can't wear right now told me.

The physical disgust I feel when I look in the mirror, and my efforts to avoid doing that told me.

The blood pressure meds I take everyday told me.

Trying to avoid having pictures taken of me, told me.

Or, taking that typical approach that I have so many times before that, when someone dared ask me about my weight, and start with, "what do you weigh? 2what?" My pat response, "2damned much."

I recently viewed a rough cut of web-video we're preparing to tell Saint John's story. There's a jolt - watching what the video tells you.

And last week, my wife told me.

She did it in love, of course. But as she is prone to do, it was clear, it was of concern, and it was something she shared with me as well as her plan.

First of the year she started one of those famous weight loss programs (the name of the program and Jesus Christ share the same initials). Having never fully lost all of Jack's baby weight, and with a major age milestone inside a year away, her motivations were clear.

And she's done great, and she feels so much better.

So, with the aforementioned, or at least alluded to, program - there's a spouse rate.

Perfect. (some sarcasm here)

I don't need no stinkin' program, I can do that for myself, as I have every other time in my life. For that story, go here.

What she told me, in so many words, was that line from Dr. Phil that's made it's way into the pop culture vernacular - "How's that working for ya?"

Point taken.

Dammit, I hate it when she's right.

Is it a character deficiency on my part?

A sign of failure?

Lack of discipline?

Do I really want the answers to those questions?

So, I went, reluctantly.

Signed in, and was assured, that, despite all the adverstisements to the contrary, many men do this program.

Fine. At this point, just show me where to sign and let's get on with our lives.

From there we went to the back of the room and onto the scale.

Nothing like the truth, in numbers, to reveal and confront what we deny.

Holy Shit.

I cannot believe I've let myself do this again.

I'm mad at myself - my periodic visitation with serious self-loathing is just around the corner. I am pissed off, disappointed, and pretty sure I'm am an abject failure on this matter.

I was purely stunned by what I saw. I didn't have a clue. Really.

And then it occured to me that I have not been on a scale at all in years. Maybe 4 or 5 years?

Hmmm. Wonder why?

For all the talk I do about accountability, and even the ways I seek to practice it in the matters of the spirit, why, then, do I avoid it so deliberatley in the physical realm?

What is it they say about the truth? It is saying aloud what everyone else knows but dare not say.

Well there it was, as big as life - numbers that did not lie - a truth that could not be avoided.

And I freakin' hate it. If the humiliation was not complete enough, the person guiding me through pulled out her Polaroid camera for the "before" shot.

Oh, hell no. But before I knew it, it was done.

At this point, go ahead, make the biggest poster you can and put me up next to the "Cheers" girl and the "One Day at a Time" girl.

I got nothing left to fight this.

So for the foreseeable future, I'm going do this thing - God knows I need to.

No really, God knows I need to -

And on this matter I will be held accountable, weekly.

The one discovery that has hit me again is simply this - we are never ever too far removed from the capacity to slip into patterns of life, of body and/or spirit, that make us less that what we're meant to be.

This thing - is mine.

Oh, I have a few others - but this one is mine for right now.

And just as Jacob wrestled with the Divine, daring not to let go, neither will I.

I may end up limping when it's all said and done, but I ain't a lettin' go.

Yo, Rock! Save Me One More Time

They say that in Hollywood, everything is possible.

I learned well the lessons of my Theatre Appreciation professor at MSU (that's Memphis State University - and not The University of Memphis), Ken Zimmerman, who said whether on the stage or on the screen, in order for the art depicted to communicate with the audience, the audience must willingly suspend their disbelief, and enter the reality of the production before them.

So, when I heard that Sylvester Stallone, at age 60, was filming the sixth movie in the Rocky series, titled, "Rocky Balboa," rather than scoff and as a predictible effort to grab one more dollar from a tired, old character - I said - thank God! I need Rocky one more time to help me focus on personal matters that must get tended, and quickly.

Much of my journey and battle with my weight can be set alongside the release of Rocky movies.

Weird, perhaps.

But true?

Absolutely!

"Rocky" came out in 1976. I was in the 7th grade.

The story of a no name club fighter with a shot appealed not only to me, but obviously to the whole country. Stallone became a superstar.

I lived in Jackson. Was a part of a devoted group of friends, all of whom were about 3 years older than me. Even at that age, my role in the group, strange as it may seem, was pastoral counselor. To this day, I value that time with David, Buddy, Rusty, Amy, Greg, Chris, Brett, Joey, and all the rest so deeply. Only a week or so ago I saw Amy for the first time in almost 25 years.

I was immediatley back to 1979.

What are you gonna do?



"Rocky II" came out in 1979. I was in the 10th grade. I had just moved from my beloved south Jackson to Memphis. I went from a school with 300 students to a school with over 300 in my grade alone.

Culture shock.

Isolation.

Sadness.

I know what food as comfort means. I "self-medicated" and gained weight until I was up to over 280 lbs. My body still bares the stretch marks of the most painful time in my life.

"Rocky III" came out in 1982. The year of my gradution from high school. Starting at the tail end of my junior year and just before the start of my senior year, I lost 120 lbs. How you might ask? I sorta "came to myself" in a prodigal kinda way.

Being the rational person that I am, I figured that if I burned off more calories that I took in, I'd lose weight. I measured everything I took in. It was not to exceed 500 calories a day. I played basketball in my driveway daily while listening to music.

What music you ask?

Wait for it -

the soundtrack to "Rocky II," on a LP Album copied onto a cassette tape.

I used the degree of dizziness I felt from getting up too quickly as my measuring stick that I'm losing weight. My personal best one week weight loss under my "program?" 11 lbs.

My parents were worried about me. Of course, this was before we had diagnostic labels for particular eating disorders.

So, at the start of my senior year of high school, I was "smokin' hot," or so I thought. I found a girl and she became my girlfriend - the first of my life. Ginger and I dated for 4 years. That was a very important time for me.

As "Rocky III" opened, I'm graduating from high school and entering my first semester at Memphis State.

I had my first job at Fred Montesi's grocery(another story another time, but I did get to sack Sam Phillips and Dr. Nick's groceries), and with that money I joined the French Rivera Spa at Ridgeway and Park. Along with Tim, Brian, Stick - we'd go two to three times a week to pump iron. By 1984, I had muscled my way from 160 lbs. in 1981 to 200 lbs., and I was cut, for me.



"Rocky IV" opened at Christmas, 1985.

I was in good physical shape, but change was in the air. I was in the middle of my "first" senior year at MSU, I was moving jobs as youth director at Whitehaven UMC to Emmanuel. The realization that my relationship with my girlfriend had reached its end was upon me - and I had a painful choice to make. The soundtrack for that time was "St. Elmo's Fire."

Water was not my beverage of choice.

Beer, and lots of it, was. Anybody remember the Sports Page at Park and Mt. Moriah? Or, how about the V.I. on Highland? Then you get it.

There's a story I've been told by friends that due to my "loss" in a game of quarters, one night I table danced at the VI to "Walking on Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves.

Glad I don't remember that one.

That semester at MSU was hardly stellar, but it was a benchmark.

My GPA for that semester was, are you ready? 1.0

How do you earn a 1.0?

Pretty easy.

Just don't go to class.

Don't study.

I didn't.

Somewhere in the middle part of '86 I found Kristy. Or, she found me. That's another story. Anyway, in finding myself again, so, too, did I find the Rocky IV Soundtrack to accompany my workouts. Through which medium? A Compact Disc, of course.

My "second" senior year was needed in part to rectify some of the damage done in my first, but the time was spent well getting to know the woman who would be my wife.


When "Rocky V" came out in 1990, change was in the air again.

I graduated from Vandy, was moving across the Tennessee River into the promised land of the Memphis Conference, I had been married for a year - and immersed myself in my work and not my physical disciplines. The label "fat and happy" applies here.

In 1998, I lost 40 lbs. Exercise and water by the gallon. Amazing. "Rocky" music was my companion. Got down to 218 lbs. It was as close as I had been to my optimal "fighting" weight than I had been in a very long time. By that time, I was able to mix the tracks I wanted and burn them on a CD.

It's 2006 - I'm over 40. A couple of years over 40. I have high blood pressure (it's in the family), but I can't ignore the factors contributing to keeping it high that I perpetuate. I have an elevated cholesterol level that I need to get a hold of.

And I need to get 30 lbs. off, and keep it off. 215-220 lbs. And hold there. That's what I need.

The death of my brother, my parents getting older, the reality of my own mortality is present in this my moment of ontological shock. But more than that, I watch the pure joy my children give my parents and Kristy's parents, and I long for the day (not anytime soon, mind you), that I can be Granddaddy. And I want to be an active one.

So, I've walked a couple of miles four times this week. The TotalGym is calling my name.

The ringing bell that starts Rocky's workout is ringing in my head. And downloaded on my mp3 player?

Yep - you got it.

This movie could not come at a better time for me.

One more time, Sly.

It's time.

Ding!