The “Stallone Effect:” A Rocky Road to Weight Loss

I can imagine in this modern day, it is not easy to be the fat kid in class.

Stallone with my favorite exercise equipment: the heavy bag

I remember it well, as I was that kid. It was years ago, in elementary and middle school, but I was once the fat guy. Chunky. Overweight, whatever you prefer to call it.

I empathize with today’s modern kid because even if you want to lose weight, there is temptation everywhere. Fatty foods, high carbs, sweets, sugar in everything…it seems worse now than when I was young.

It’s challenging to be overweight when you grow up Italian American as well. Although I’ve mentioned before that my grandmother cooked me a lot of great meals that were heavy on the vegetables, I also ate a lot of things that could potentially put on some weight.

I’m talking meats, rich sauces, sweets and pastries galore.

As much as I loved my veggies, meatballs and manicotti were likely to be on any menu as well.

If there was a cannoli in the room, chances are I would eat it.

Things were also made a little more difficult attending middle school at a military academy.  With the extra weight, I obviously did not look the part of a polished cadet. Among the sharp creases, perfect shoes, and shiny belt buckles, you stand out from the crowd when your stomach flops over that belt buckle.

I have to admit, when I finally decided to make some changes to take weight off, it wasn’t  for any health reasons. I was too young to think that way. I just wanted to get those rotten kids in school off of my back.

Although I wanted to make some strides in taking off some weight, I wasn’t exactly sure what to do. I had little knowledge about health and fitness, and even less inspiration and motivation.

Then my inspiration hit me, square in the face, while sitting in a movie theater.

Rocky.

For anyone unfamiliar with this mid 70’s classic, Rocky is the not so improbable story of a boxer with slightly less than average fighting talent, living in near poverty, who is randomly chosen in a 4th of July marketing ploy to fight the world heavyweight champion.

In the movie, the fight scenes are dramatic, the acting crisp, and the training montages, where Rocky prepares for his big night, are inspirational. For me, very inspirational.

Can you picture the face of a young kid, watching Star Wars for the first time, or some great animation, staring at a movie screen with eyes wide, his mouth agape? That was me while I was watching Rocky, as he trained by climbing the summit of the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, or pounding a side of beef posing as a heavy bag in a desolate freezer.

He transformed himself from a washed up, out of shape fighter, to a lean physical specimen that was a whisper from calling himself champion. I had my answers.

After seeing the movie, I ran circles around my neighborhood. Running became a top priority in my life. I learned to use a heavy bag, worked around my awkward attempts at jumping rope, and although I never aspired to do the one handed push-up that Rocky did in the movie, I became pretty good at the two handed version.

Rocky was Sylvester Stallone’s baby. He wrote the script and played the lead in what was to be the breakthrough moment of his life. And I can’t thank him enough for it. It also wound up being a breakthrough moment in my life.

Fueled by the motivation I had gotten from the movie, I worked for months to shed pounds and get fit, and it was a success. I don’t know exactly how much weight I came off, as I lost track after the first 20-25 pounds.

By the time I was 15-16 years old, I was in pretty good shape. And I stayed that way. When I met my wife years later (I was 30), I was 6’1″ and 170 pounds, with a 32 inch waist.

I’m not in that kind of shape now, I confess I am a little heavier. But as far as I can see, Stallone still looks fantastic physically, now in his 70s!! Knowing that, maybe it’s time for me to recommit to the roadwork, the heavy bag, and the sit ups.

Yo Rocky…how ’bout a rematch?

Here’s To The Losers

The Yankees were knocked out of the baseball playoffs late in October, and being a Yankee fan, I was not at all happy about it.

My wife was also a little disappointed. My brother in law, who was watching the game with us, was a little too giddy about it, being the Mets fan that he is. I don’t think my daughter cared at all (seeing as she rarely looked up from her ITouch as she sat on the couch).

But I was kind of  shocked at my 10 year old son’s reaction. He was really pissed. Very upset by the fact his baseball team was not going to the World Series.

Although I’m happy that there is a rooting interest here that I had a hand in cultivating,  I don’t want either one of my kids to put too much emphasis on wins or losses, and to keep both in the context where they belong.

I’m hoping that someday both my kids realize that yeah, winning is fun, there’s nothing like it, but sometimes you learn your greatest lessons in life by those times that you just fell short.

Winners can win in a methodical, plodding fashion, day in and day out, that may not be interesting at all.

Losers, on the other hand, can fail in a spectacular manner. And some losses teach you right away what not to do next time, to make your chances of future wins a little better.

I gained much satisfaction watching the Yankees win the World Series last year. But towards the end of the last game, it was a foregone conclusion. It became a matter of just waiting for it to happen.

This year, in the waning moments of the final playoff game, the Yankees practically had no shot. But they battled till the very end, giving great effort in what was probably a no-hope situation.

The latter did not give the desired outcome (a Yankee win), but I found the game just as compelling as when they won the Series.

For those of us that aren’t large profile, highly overpaid athletes, wins and losses are part of everyday life. The trick is to not get too high when you win, and not crash too hard when you lose.

And when you do lose, whether it be a sale, momentum, a game…take it in another direction, learn what can be done to get a better result.

Most of us, when it’s all said and done, will win at the game of life. The losses are only temporary setbacks, to be overcome.

Celebrate the winners. But remember, it’s always how you play the game that counts.

Here’s to the losers.

Work Purpose – Passion or Paycheck?

God only knows, God makes his plan
The information’s unavailable to the mortal man
We’re workin’ our jobs, collect our pay
Believe we’re gliding down the highway, when in fact we’re slip sliding away

Crazy lyrics, aren’t they? When you’re working a job, and are part of the masses doing a 9 to 5 gig, the above can be a little…well, unsettling.

“Slip Sliding Away” is a Paul Simon song that was blaring from the speakers of  the almost vintage Cadillac that I drive on the way to work the other day. The irony of the above lyric hit me like the cliched ton of bricks:

Is my life actually slip sliding away while I go to my cubicle each day and perform the duties of an employee?

And is that a reason to dislike, even hate, the circumstance?

I thought about it for awhile, and concluded that I’m stuck somewhere in the middle. Worker bee limbo. I neither dislike nor love the current situation as it pertains to work.

Not everyone hates their job. For some, the only emotion is indifference.

Maybe it’s a by-product of a lousy economy, but there just seems to be an avalanche of individuals these days that will no longer work for the man. They are running micro-businesses, working independently, and writing blog posts all about it. I must admit, at times I am jealous. They all seem to have it going in the right direction.

What’s an old school kinda guy to do? Well, this theory seems to work—

It’s perfectly fine to try and find some meaning within your day job, collect that check, and have a great passion outside of work.

Find something else to do, besides your job, that will stoke your fire. It doesn’t have to be related to work. Who wrote that rule anyway??

My grandmother worked day and night in her restaurant without necessarily “loving” everything that she did. My grandfather worked a shift in factories, and then went to the restaurant to help out after his day was done at the  job. I doubt he was “passionate” about most aspects of his work. He would probably say he did it for the food, the clothing, and the roof.

My job fulfills income criteria as well. That’s all I really require of it.

The idea of a “dream job” can be a fallacy for many of us. I don’t have that one singular, all consuming passion for something that I could make my living at. I do, however, love aspects of my work in sales. I love the competition and the consistent striving to be better than I was yesterday.

My passion is reserved for my God, my family, my friends, ocean front vacations, and my baseball team. My work can just be my work.

Excuse me while I work my job, collect my pay, and yes, glide down that highway.

Absolute Requirements of the Italian Kitchen

Fellow blogger Vince Scordo published this great article about what food ingredients are really required to have a complete kitchen, and to keep those of us of Italian American descent happy and content.

Although I loved Vince’s post, I wanted to add my two cents on some of  these required ingredients and what they mean in my kitchen. My kitchen, and what it holds, was strongly influenced by what my grandmother taught me, as you will see in the following…

Garlic – One of two main ingredients in my gram’s kitchen, it was mandatory that there was an abundant supply ready for peeling and chopping. She used it to cook just about everything, and I have carried on that tradition. As far as rituals go, the preparation of the garlic may have been second only to the cleaning of the green beans.

Olive Oil – The other main ingredient. The kitchen was never without a shiny gold and black can of Filippo Berio, and Gram used it liberally for cooking, as well as dressing salads, bread dip, and general illness prevention. Although my wife and I will occasionally enjoy a nice extra virgin oil drizzled on a tomato & mozzarella salad, I always fall back on the Berio product for its flavor and friendly price point.

Tomatoes – I use 28 oz. cans of store bought crushed tomatoes as a rule, flipping back and forth between some different brands. Gram, however, canned her own, using hundreds of roma tomatoes from a local farmer. The sauce that she made with them is something I could not duplicate if I tried.

It took an amazing amount of back breaking work for her (and anyone that helped) to prepare the tomatoes for storage, and she would make a year’s supply. If you’re not into that kind of manual labor I recommend a nice canned product off the store shelf such as Red Pack or Tuttorosso, which is frequently on sale in my area.

Imported Tuna – All you lovers of the Bumblebee and Starkist brands, fair warning: one try at a high quality, Italian tuna packed in olive oil in a salad or on a sandwich, and it’s highly unlikely you’ll go back to the other brands. Yes, they are a little more pricey, but it is well worth the extra change that you’ll spend!

Cheese – My gram’s favorite road trip was to go to our local import store to buy some olives, mortadella, and a couple of pounds of asiago or imported parmigiano cheese. Sometimes it was more than a couple pounds. When we got back from the store, we’d sit at the kitchen table and have lunch (sandwich and coffee), and then I’d grate some cheese for that night’s dinner or for future use.

Fruit – A terrific memory that I have is the fruit bowl that was always present on the counter at my Gram’s house. It was always filled with apples, grapes, and especially pears, which we loved to peel and eat at the kitchen table.

In addition to the bowl, the yard around the house was filled with fruit trees that yielded pears, cherries, and peaches. And the grapes. Not one, but two arbors dense with the sweetest concord grapes that my wife and I, to this day, make grape jelly with.

If you’ve never had Italian bread toasted with peanut butter (or plain butter) and homemade jelly, you have not lived.

Wine – My grandmother, as well as the rest of her family, was no wine snob. The wine that was at table was usually a full bodied red that came in a very large bottle. Read: gallon jug, usually something like Carlo Rossi. It tasted great along side a dish of macaroni with my gram’s sauce, salad, and Italian bread.

Although I tend to enjoy a variety of white and red wines from Italy, France, and California, more often than not my wife or I will go to the store and pick up a gallon size bottle of red to enjoy with a favorite Italian meal…and we love it!

And in the end, isn’t that what food is about?…love!

How To Take Nothing For Granted

What do you take for granted?

Gratitude has been a theme that I’ve posted about here before, and I’ve thought recently about things that I should be grateful for, but sometimes take for granted.

One thing I’ve normally taken for granted, because its always been good, is my wife’s overall health and well being. This changed recently when she had a visit to our local ER with some tightness in her chest, and shortness of breath that we originally attributed to pine pollen.

There’s a history of heart disease in her family, and on our doctor’s suggestion, we decided to be safe rather than sorry, and go to the hospital. Even if pine pollen was the possible culprit.

Although she looked great in a hospital gown (she could look good in a paper bag), the both of us would have rather not been there. Aside from the events of having our kids, my wife does not go to hospitals, or doctors’ offices.

While waiting for test results, I was hoping for the best, but there was cause for concern. It is a subject I’ve never thought about much: I’ve always taken for granted that my wife would always be healthy, and be around to take care of us.

I’ve always looked after my own health. Fighting with elevated blood pressure and high cholesterol, it’s part of my game. My wife didn’t need to be concerned about such things, or so it seemed.

Thankfully, all of the tests (we’re talking blood, CT scan, EKG, etc.) came back with good results, and this was a scare we no longer had to worry about. I’m very grateful for the test results that portrayed her as an almost perfect physical specimen, and promised myself I’d always show gratitude for her health as long as she has it.

Something else happened here. I realized there are many other times that we all take most things for granted. It seems as we get older, we have to come to terms with that sometimes the most important facets of our life are the ones we assume will be a constant.

I thought about little things that I’ve taken for granted, that I can no longer experience. Like the hundreds of times my grandmother made me coffee, and poured it at her kitchen table. And sliced a piece of cake to go along with it.

That was a normal part of life for me, always there. So it got taken for granted. You can reflect on the past, but that experience is now gone. And with that realization, you should be more aware of what goes on now.

I make the coffee now, or my wife makes it. We do it the same way my Nonna did, brewing it with the espresso pot on top of the stove (it’s the best way to make coffee!), and it still tastes great. It’s just different.

A few weeks ago, I was walking through my dining room, and accidentally kicked my son’s baseball cleats that were left by the table. Ordinarily, I would have only noticed it in passing, but I stopped to look at them, and to think.

I thought, those shoes will only be there briefly. Someday, they will be gone, replaced by bigger shoes. And then, when my kids are grown and out of the house, they won’t be there at all. There will be just an empty space on that floor.

I took in that moment, without it being taken for granted. And I was happy to have it.

The little things in life are truly amazing, when you take the time to consider.

I feel like a cup of coffee. Right now.