Carpe Diem

I started dreaming big about Dunk. For the last two months I have been speaking with a very prominent magazine based out of New York and a very big Athletic Apparel company also on the East Coast about Dunk. I spoke with CMO’s, COO’s, Editors, and such, but I am not sure what will come out of it. Essentially I have been resting on my laurels because I thought I would be able to drop a bomb on you about how Dunk was blowing up, and we were going national with our little weight loss adventure. Honestly I don’t know what will happen, and while I am still hopeful that we can get some national press as well as a clothing-shoe endorsement, I have now realized that Dunk isn’t about waiting for something to happen, it’s about making something happen.

The reason I started the blog was so that I can share with you all, the journey that Abby and I are on. So far there have been some great ups, like Kohen and Chloe crawling, babbling, spitting out first words (not to mention we now have number 3 on the way, naming rights to be discussed). And, there have been some downs, like two sprained ankles, falling off the pizza and wing wagon, sleep deprivation, a rowdy boxer girl named Bella who is under the impression that my sole job in this world is to please her (there are only so many tennis balls I can hit).

Today, I am at my lowest weight since we started, 245 lbs. We started at 272 lbs, so that is definitely progress, but remember I have to get to 195 lbs and maybe even lower, and the only way I can get there is by making smart choices and eating healthier. I know now I can’t wait for something big to happen, like a magazine article or free shoes, to propel me into a weight loss frenzy. I have to do it myself, I have to work hard, and I need to do it now. So I am going to change the format a bit for these blogs. Starting on Monday I will be keeping a food journal for the blog and each Friday I will report what I have eaten for that week, as well as work outs and other trials and tribulations.

The picture above was taken this morning after Abby and I took the babies for a 2 mile walk. These are my money makers, or as Dave Renke and Joe Harper like to call them, my Kielbasa Sausages, my little smokies, my meat-cicyles. Truth be told these are Heather’s creation www.skyfitaz.com. We have come so far with so much further to go, but these legs are strong and up to the challenge.

You're not pregnant are you?

Where the hell have I been? Well, I am sure you can tell by the picture above that we have a little bit of news to share. Yes, Abby is pregnant, and NO it was not planned. What you can also tell is that there is only one little baby in there, which is by far the most important aspect in all of this. Yes, I will be getting a vasectomy this year, and NO I will not enjoy it, but Yes it is time to shut down this baby producing team.

Let's be honest, it's all Heather's fault www.skyfitaz.com. If she didn't take this Pillsbury Dough Boy and shave 25 pounds of me, turning me into a one double chinned sex machine we wouldn't be in this predicament. But, you add sleeping babies together with a little weight loss, topped with some Oregon Pinot Noir, and forget about it. It was baby making time. And, evidently we are good at making babies, because every time we have sex some more appear. So what does this all mean to DUNK? It means I better get my act together and drop this last 50 pounds before our condo is turned into a day care center.

Are we on target? Well, sort of, I guess. How is that for a convincing answer. I think I am definitely at the first hurdle, speed bump, caution sign, what have you. I am not losing as much weight as I need to and I suspect it is because I am eating too much bad food. Such is my plight as a cry baby who refuses to give anything up. Before we go further with the Charlie bashing, please know that I have kept up with my workouts and even added a weekly hoops game with my boys, which has been both extremely fun and sad. It's fun because all of my guy friends are together, running around, throwing behind the back passes to each other and having a great time. But, sad because this week I jumped as high as I could and only got to 9'6" which means I am at least 12-15 inches away from where I need to be to dunk a ball.

So you mix in my lack of strict dieting, with the news that Abby is pregnant and we need to buy a new house and move out of our little condo, you end up with a dude who doesn't write, which is not where you want to be when you are filming a documentary about changing your life and dunking a fricking basketball. I guess the real question is should I just quit and focus on the baby coming, and my selfish answer is NO. I can't quit. If I quit now it will be like every other thing I have done my entire life, which is quit when things get hard. I don't know if I will ever be a good dieter, but I certainly think I can hold my shit together for 7 months in order to finish this beast. So, let's see.

PS-next week I will hopefully have some news about some national press and maybe even a sponsor, and no the sponsor wouldn't be SPAM.

"Diet Schmiet"

“The only time to eat diet food is when you are waiting for the steak to cook”. Julia Child. As told to me by my wife Abigail, although I do feel this is spot on.

I am at my most optimistic the day before I start a diet. I am high on life, indulging myself in whatever peaks my palette, living large and usually consuming profuse amounts of cheese all in the interest of hoping to satiate my desire to have such luxuries in the coming days of self deprivation. Inevitably I will tell everyone around me when I am starting my diet, what diet plan I will be following (South Beach, Atkins, etc) and how much weight they can expect to see falling off my body and inescapably, by the third day I am no longer dieting. In fact by the 3^rd day I am so mad at the fact that I have to diet that I curse myself for ever discovering super nachos and Pale Ales. This is a vicious pattern I have repeated more times than I wish to admit. What is it about dieting that is so illusive to me? (I bet Dawson never had to deal with lack of motivation, then again Pacey was always trying to get his girl, and by the by, would have thought she would end up with Maverick anyways) Yet, I digress.

My consistent plan for eating seems to be eat lots of cheese, pizza and Mexican food, without giving consideration to portion. Is that bad? I’m kidding I know it’s bad, but it tastes so good. But here I am, well into the 2^nd month and hovering right around the 15 pound weight loss, and I need to lose another 50-60 pounds, so I guess it’s time to climb the diet bandwagon again. The pressure of the documentary makes me certain that I will be able to follow through, but the doubts creep in and seem to find plenty of place to live. However it’s pretty linear right now and I just need to follow the line: I need to eat less in order to lose the weight, I know I have to lose the weight in order to jump higher, and I know I have to jump higher in order to dunk the basketball.

I am going to see Dr. Ida P. Crocker-Sabbagh next week which will begin the medically supervised portion of the documentary (hopefully she won’t want me to do anything crazy like cut cheese or sandwiches out of my life). March is my do or die month, I need to lose at least 20 pounds between now and the end of the month in order to stay on task. Heather has really upped the workouts, just flat out hammering my legs (why is it my double chin won’t go away? Probably the afore mentioned cheese dilemma). I am feeling better, just not looking it yet, and let’s be honest it’s all about looks now a days. I hope to, in several months, look back at the picture above (which will become the poster for Dunk) and not cringe. The goal of Dunk is to end up a better person than I was before I started in all facets of life (not just really-really good looking with flowing curly hair).

There is big news on the horizon, can’t wait to share it with you all but will have to wait until things are finalized. I would love to hear from anyone who has anything to say at all about DUNK? so please email me at cspannagel@gmail.com.

If you live in Phoenix and need a place to workout, go to Sky Fitness, honestly wouldn't have lasted these 7 weeks without the H-Track and her workouts. I am actually starting to feel like an athlete again. www.skyfitaz.com

If you need serious savory seasoning for any meal go to www.slavosalt.com, it’s the fricking shiznit.

“The good, the bad and the ehh”

The good – one month in, down 15 pounds, which has me feeling great. My body is starting to resemble a little something closer to an athlete (or if not athlete, an agile fat man), and the best news of all is I’m getting totally psyched when I see my reflection in the mirror (Abby manages to catch me staring at that more than I care to admit but it’s a life style-Nick Quan) but I’m seriously stoked, no more man boobs, a shrinking gut and I can keep an eye on my little guy now, which hasn’t always been the case.

The bad – I missed a blog week. I was chalking it up to laziness (as lazy as I can be with a full time job, a wife to catch up with and twins at home), but I fear it’s something more serious. I thought the one part that would be easy about this project was the writing. It’s what I love, what I’ve studied and what I think I’m best at – but truthfully, it’s been the hardest. Sitting down to chronicle each week has left me with a bit of loss for words. I feel pressure to make it engaging, funny and most of all do a good job of describing the experience. But what I find when I sit down to write is that I’m not as funny as I think I am (well that’s probably not true – I’m pretty funny, some say top 5), and my writing and vocabulary has gone in the pooper, which is not what an aspiring writer wants to realize. So I sought out a mentor from my past, my high school English teacher Papa Jack LaBonte. He brought me back to the awareness that to be good at something you have to practice it, and just like I neglected my body, I neglected my writing. This past week, after much thought, I have come back to one of the main reasons I am doing this project – I am story teller. And so tell the story I will. (On a side note, I will begin working with Papa Jack on “Lone Country Road” my debut novel, getting ready to cry your little hearts out you Dawson Creekers)

The ehh – one month in, but the project is just getting started and I have 8 more months left, but it’s already feeling daunting. Everyone has treated me and this project with open arms and well wishes, but now I have to see what I am made of (which up to this point hasn’t been hard work and dedication). I am 31 years old, with two 8 month olds, and something tells me that if I don’t accomplish this now, I will never do it. If you see me, rocking a Philly Cheese steak, a disapproving look is warranted. However, if you see me grabbing a salad and an iced tea go ahead and smack that ass.

Down But Not Out

It was the fall of 1991, I had just arrived at Madison Meadows from the harsh streets of Pleasanton, CA (whether or not I arrived in a Nike Flight Suit is still up for debate). Shortly into the fall school year, I had joined the basketball team, and was actually playing well and making some good friends (or terrible ones, depends on who you ask, yeah you Renke). During the beginning part of the season, on a breakaway layup attempt by our opponent, I came from behind and pinned the ball to the backboard, a clean block, but on the way down I landed on the player’s foot and snapped my ankle. My foot ballooned to the size of a grapefruit and I was shut down for 6 weeks. However, during this time I got my first Arizona girlfriend, (thank you Cameron Mercer), became best friends with Mike Martori, and settled nicely into the North Central life style.

This incident is what flashed in my mind this Sunday morning as I was icing what appeared to be fractured ankle (thankfully it wasn’t fractured, just badly sprained). Unfortunately, there wasn’t quite as much glory with the injury that I happened to come by this weekend. Innocently enough, I was playing a game of football with a couple of ferocious 10 year olds. The play I had devised was fantastic (fake hand off, end around, qb fly pattern) but 10 steps into my route, I hit a gopher hole – I dropped the pass, limped back to the huddle and settled in for all time QB with a rapidly swelling ankle. Immediately my thoughts turned to the production of DUNK. Had I injured my foot too badly to continue? Would I be sidelined for too long? How would this impact my workouts? Fortunately I didn’t have to wait long for the answer, on Monday the X-Ray came back negative and three days after the incident the icing and elevation has worked well.

Three days off from working out has me itching to get back, but right now my mind goes to all the horrible exercise routines Heather (www.skyfitaz.com) can devise for me with a bum leg. I have a feeling my arms and core and going to hurt a lot. This injury won’t keep me down, if anything it is a refocus, just around the time when everything is starting to feel mundane. There is a difference in wanting to exercise and not having the ability to, and having the ability and not having the desire. Fortunately I still have the desire and the ability will come back soon enough.

Weekly Grind

I have received hundreds of requests (maybe not quite hundreds but at least 10) to detail what these hellacious work outs are like. So here is my work out from this past Monday (www.skyfitaz.com):

Warm up consisted of prison squats with a weighted bar, side lunges and pushups (3 minutes). At the end of the warm up I am ready to cool down, but the fun is just beginning.

1. 45 degree Incline walk (I kid you not my calves are en fuego by 45 seconds and we do this for 2 full minutes with no rest, and as I am often reminded – no holding on to the bar)
2. Lunges with 15lbs curls (I had grabbed the 10lbs but was shamed into something a little more heavy, just like me) 2-50 sec sets with a 20 second break.
3. Band work (take a enormous industrial strength rubber band, step on it, cross it over and pull up to your chest, then do 5 side steps in each direction for the first 50 second set, and rock back and forth for the second 50 second rep. It felt like someone was stabbing me with a dagger on my hips)
4. Running, two minutes no breaks, I hate tread mills. My mood is often lifted when we only have one treadmill going, but today we get two, hooray.
5. Squats with weights, then lunges with weights, 2-50 second sets with a 20 second break
6. Jump rope, 2 minutes no breaks (I am awful at this; jumping rope surely can’t help me dunk, right?)
7. Side crunches, 5x each side then switch for 50 seconds.
8. Weighted Ball above the head bouncing off the wall for 50 seconds.

You repeat this three times (50 minutes total) and then you are finished for the day. I have already written about my first experience with these workouts, where I hurled half way through, and even though I am in week 3, they definitely don’t seem to be getting any easier. I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment when I make it through, but I know at some point I am going to have to up my game, and then re-up and then re-up.

Until this week, I hadn’t changed my diet, per doctors’ orders mind you, but now I feel that I have to. There is only so far pizza, wings, and nachos can get you, so now I am onto fish, chicken, veggies and the like. If I can overcome being a baby and a whiner about food and my consumption limits, I should be alright. Last night Abby made Monk Fish, with fresh asparagus and whole wheat pasta (of course we added a little Slavo Salt for taste www.slavosalt.com) and it was so good. I feel great this morning and will be hitting the tennis courts tonight before back to Heather (trainer extraordinaire) tomorrow morning.

I think there are 3 people right now that believe I will be able to dunk a basketball at the end of this journey, Heather (my trainer), Abby (my wife), and me. Everyone else I have spoken with either tells me flat out that it’s impossible or I can see it in their eyes (this mofo is crazy). But if I am ever to look Kohen and Chloe in the eyes and preach the value of hard work, I’ll need proof to back me up. What better proof than a movie that will take top honor in the documentary category at Sundance next year.

at a snails pace

I am tired. Yesterday I woke up at 4:15AM with Kohen (mind you, ‘waking up’ to me is telling Abby that Kohen is up and he is interrupting my sleep), out of bed at 4:50, made bottles for K and C, gave them to Abby, got dressed and headed over to Sky Fitness (www.skyfitaz.com) and was greeted by what appears to be a lovely person, my trainer Heather. But don’t be fooled, there is nothing lovely about a woman who asks you if you are wearing a crop top because your XL workout shirt is coming up and your gut is sticking out. Yet, I digress. Heather is exactly who I need to get me back in shape. None of my jokes work, and there is only so much cool you can pull off when you are about to pass out. She’ll see this to the end, or see me to my next life, which is a weird level of comfort and disturbance for me.

If I were to be brutally honest with myself, which is the purpose of DUNK, I am selfish and self centered (I’m writing a blog, about myself, I mean come on). I have always believed in myself but never followed that belief up with the virtues of hard work. It’s seems odd that I would find myself deciding now to go through this, because after all – what I am saying to my family is: “Hey Abby, I know we have two 7 month olds, but can I work out 6 days a week, so that I might be able to recapture some athletic ability and dunk a basketball. Good luck with those poopy diapers, I’ll be at the gym.” But the thing is – I couldn’t have started this and kept what has been constant motivation without my twins. Come on, I know I am a jerk, but I have to be, right? My parents and family have been sold the Kool Aid so much by me that they just nod now, and I can’t blame them. Right now I have to be a jerk to follow through on this one.

So far, the biggest accomplishments of my life are: one, married an unreal woman, who saw something in me that I still can’t figure out what it is, and two, we have two amazing little babies who I love so much, that I often find myself comparing them to Einstein when they pick up their binkies off the blanket and put them back in their mouths. That’s it, right there, not even a number 3. All of my other accomplishments fall somewhere between “Who gives a shit?” and “A Monkey could do that”.

So what am I saying in all of this? Drink the Kool Aid people, Senior Fats is down 10 pounds and picking up momentum.