There may be some of you that read this series but don’t really buy into the why of it all. I’ve shared the before and after pics showing how I lost eighty pounds of body fat and added lean muscle by avoiding pre-packaged foods with Tolstoy length ingredient lists. I’ve written out the recipes I’ve found and developed where I make everything I can from scratch.
But, it’s not just about dropping the weight or the physical appearance. It’s about how I feel and function, and the damaging items I avoid by not consuming boxed foods.
This past Father’s Day, my youngest son asked me to hike Pinnacle Mountain. I reminded him of my rule that I only go to Pinnacle by myself so that I’m not constantly hearing the inevitable “Slow down” or “Wait up” or “I’m dying” being whined at me from far, far behind on the trail. My son scoffed, being a youthful and in shape nineteen year old, and my odometer about to click over to the ripe old age of fifty-one in August. “C’mon, dad. I think I will surprise you now.”
We arrived at the mountain around 9:30 am that Sunday. It was already hot as fu…fudge…as we walked to the base trail. I should mention now that I never go up the West side trail that most people use. I run the base trail to the backside of the mountain, then ascend the East summit trail that I have dubbed “The Path to Mordor” with its almost vertical climb up a fallen rock field. We only use the West side path as our decent trail back to the parking lot as it is too easy and crowded. My son stayed with me on the base trail, nipping at my heels as we jogged along at an easy pace.
At the entrance to the East Side summit, I asked him if he wanted to just turn back, given how hot and humid the day already had become. He assured me that he was ready to go and see the top, so we began the climb and made our way to the entrance of Mordor. I could hear his breathing increasing behind me as the trail became more strenuous, but he was still doing well keeping up.
The trail eventually brought us to the start of the real climb, where the entrance to Mordor begins. It is a relentless climb, less of a trail and more of a giant vertical rock stair stepper intent on burning thighs and crushing wills. I turned to my son. “Set your own pace. If you need to pass me, just keep going, and I’ll meet you at the top.”
He nodded, and we began to scramble up the trail. When I reached the first natural resting place, I turned back to see where my son was at, and he was already thirty yards below me. I asked if he was good, and he gave me a breathless thumbs up. I told him I was going to keep going, and he nodded, then collapsed on a rock like it was a memory foam mattress.
The climb was brutal in the humidity and burning sun. I set a pace and kept to it as I always do. It had been a few years since I climbed Pinnacle, but it was me against the mountain now, and I learned long ago how to shut off the self-preservation switch in my mind that convinces others to stop as they hit their limit. I passed others that had started on the climb long before I arrived, moving past them like they were mummified remains left on the rocks ages ago, now just a permanent feature the mountain had claimed as its own.
I reached the top and took in the view of the Arkansas River Valley, and the turkey buzzards gliding on invisible currents of updrafts that rushed up the sides of the mountain. I waited. And waited. Twenty-five minutes later, a shaky hand appeared over the last rock on the trail, and my son shakily pulled himself onto the summit. He collapsed, sweating profusely and breathing hard.
“Oh good, you’re here.” I told him. “We need to head down, because I have to get home in time to get my workout done.” With that, I jumped to my feet and started down the West Side trail, laughing to myself as I heard the moans of pain and disappointment behind me.
When we arrived home, I made a healthy lunch full of protein, complex carbs, and healthy fats to replenish what the heat and climb had extracted from me, while my son went straight to his room. I went down to the garage after my meal and did my scheduled lift day of chest, shoulders, and triceps. I didn’t see my son for about five hours as he passed out as soon as he was able to reach his bed. When I informed him that I had done my lift day while he slept, he responded that he believed I might possibly be insane.
If I had kept eating the typical American diet that I was consuming in my thirties and early forties, there’s no way I could have made that climb, much less have had to wait for my young son. Eating this way and maintaining a strength and cardio training regimen has worked miracles on my health and what I am capable of doing on a daily basis.
I visited my dying grandfather in a nursing home recently, and trust me when I tell you this, getting old and weak sucks. Some of the people I saw there were only twenty years older than me, yet they didn’t have the strength to get out of a chair on their own. It was like a waking nightmare seeing these unfortunate people trapped within their own bodies. If you are fifty or under and already having trouble lifting your own weight, or notice a flight of stairs does you in, it’s time to think about what’s coming next.
It’s not too late to get strong. Body weight exercises like push-ups, pull-ups, air squats, and planks can be the difference between an independent life or sitting in a wheelchair in some nightmare depressing facility, forgotten. Our healthcare industry focuses only on life span, but it’s your health span that you should be worried about. It’s not how long you live, but how long you live well.
It takes a bit of effort to make all your own meals from scratch and not rely on giant food corporations to do the work for you, but it’s doable and so worth it. You never know what they are sneaking in that box or bottle.
For instance, the FDA just this week banned brominated vegetable oil in this country. It is a toxic risk to the thyroid and poses several chronic health problems. Kids are exposed to it as it’s mainly found in fizzy fruit flavored drinks and sodas. Here’s the kicker – the FDA first knew this dangerous substance should not be in our food and drinks in…wait for it…the year 1970.
For those of you that were told there would be no math, that is a FIFTY-FOUR year delay between understanding this additive is a severe health risk and actually telling corporations they could no longer use it in their products. Do not rely on corporations focused only on profits and governments focused only on whatever the hell they are focused on to have your best interests at heart. They do not.
You and you alone can control what goes in your food, and ultimately in your delicate internal organs and bloodstream. It can be the difference between leaving your teenage son in the dust on a mountain trail, or trapped in a wheelchair wondering if anyone remembers you are there.
I hope to see you at the summit. The choice is yours.
See the list of all the Shirtless Chef recipes at www.mysaline.com/shirtless.