Come Hell or High Water

Last year as I was training for the NYC Marathon I signed up for this crazy thing I’d heard of called the Hotter Than Hell Marathon. It’s a marathon on a two mile loop starting at midnight, in July, In New Orleans. I heard of this event through my buddy JT on one of our long runs. And if recall, he said something to the affect of “that sounds just crazy enough to be fun.” Well, we found ourselves in Audubon Park that July, at 2am, looping the two mile walk path over and over until I reached 26.2 miles (JT showed up to pace me for my last 13ish). I remember apologizing to him as I started to bonk in mile 22 because he’d come out there to support me and here I was cramping up and slowing down while he was fresh and ready to run. He gently scolded me for the preposterous nature of that statement/apology when he said, “Don’t apologize to me, Bruh! You’re giving it everything you got.”  The point is, I was done, I had emptied my vessel, and I had run my second 26.2 with my new buddy JT cheering me on.

What a night! Not only had I finished my second marathon within 6 months of my first, but I had done it where I’d logged what feels like a million training miles, in Audubon Park. What a night that was. But while I was looping around the park for my 26.2 miles, I noticed a tent with a sign that read “Louisiana Ultra Runners,” and I learned that these folks had been looping that same track since 8pm the night before…mind blown. My buddy, Jean, was there that night too (he and my buddy Wally helped me through that Destin 50k I wrote about back in February, more on them in a minute…), but he was with the “Louisiana Ultra Runners,” “Dusk Til Dawn” crew. I barely knew him at the time, but I knew him enough for us to exchange pleasantries during the run that night. I remember he was actually aiming for the 50k mark that night, but called it a night when he reached the 26.2 distance. At the finish, I learned that this was actually his very first marathon. So, he was aiming for a 50k without ever having run a marathon…balls! I knew then that we would be friends.

Fast forward 12 months, two more marathons, a 50k beach race, and a 40 mile training run, and  I found myself at Audubon Park again this year, but this time signed up for the “Dusk Til Dawn” event I’d been blown away by a year ago. Not only was I there ready to do this craziness, but JT was there to run his first ultra distance race. But this year it wasn’t just JT, Jean and myself. This year, thanks to the Thibodaux Running Group, we had quite a posse running. Beside the three of us and my wife, who was there to run the first 10 with us this year, there was Wally and Ethan, Wally’s wife Nikki, and our friend Anna who’s running NYC this year. But simply introducing these folks by name alone will not do. They are so important to me that I’d like to say a little more about each one of them before I continue on with this narrative.

Let me start with Ethan because I am most proud of him for what he accomplished Saturday night. He went into this race kinda worried, almost doubting himself. He’s younger than the rest of the crew, and, as much as we fuck with him, he still looks up to us I think. He’s always full of questions, worry, and sometimes doubt. But Saturday night his nuts dropped as a runner. This young man went to work at 8pm Saturday night and stayed steady all night, reaching the 40 mile mark before I did. Which is something I know he’s proud of, and that flatters me more than he knows; that beating me to 40 miles was such a big deal to him. We are both from Chackbay, have lost a lot of weight, and are now both plant based ultra runners. Who’d a thunk it, right? Love ya, E! Way to grind, babe!

Then of course there’s the lovely Anna. What can I say, she’s a beautiful, strong, smart young woman. She has the heart of a lion and the face of an angel. What a sweetheart! She’s like another little sister to me, and I’m proud to be her running buddy. She is running the NYC Marathon this November and I can hardly wait for her to experience that! She ran her first marathon in January at the Louisiana Marathon in Baton Rouge this year. Her goal Saturday night was to get another 26.2 under her belt as a conditioning run on her way to NYC. She did it and felt good getting it done. I’m very proud of her for coming out to run a marathon starting at midnight, in July, in New Orleans. It’ll pay dividends, sha!

If you’ve been keeping up with my blog, you know who JT is from the #TCSNYCMARATHON post I made about our run in NYC together. But you know him as a marathoner, not an ultramarathoner. Saturday night he ventured out past the 26.2 mile comfort zone, and reach the 50k mark. This was his goal going in, and he got it done. I’m glad he was there, and glad he got it done. Dude’s a beast, and the best friend a guy could ask for.

I spoke about Jean a little in the beginning of this post, but what I didn’t mention was the fact that, since that fateful night we spent together a year ago, he has gone on to become quite an accomplished, while at the same time humble and aspiring, ultra marathoner. Beside helping me thru my first 50k in Destin, he’s gone on to run the Mount Mitchell Challenge, the Sleepy 50k, Badlands 50 miler (which was called at the 50k mark for almost everyone due to whether. I only mention that fact because he would want me to), and has played the role of pacer for his ultra running friends along the way. He and his wife are quite literally some the coolest people I know, and their daughter will melt you instantly. In a year’s time we’ve grown from exchanging pleasantries to becoming dear, dear friends. I value his presence in my life and running more than he knows.

And then there is Nikki and Wally, the couples equivalent to human Prozac. Nikki was there, as was Anna, to run the marathon distance. She just wanted another one under her belt as she trains for her first 50k, which is coming up in October. It was wonderful to have her bouncing around that two-mile track after midnight gushing with encouragement. She is one of the sweetest, cutest little humans you can imagine, and her husband is a stone-cold beast. Wally may be a beast, but you don’t know it until you see him in action. He is the most humble accepting, generous person you would ever want to meet, yet, at the same time, an animal in the ultra distances. And he, like the rest of us, is a newbie in this ultra thing. If you remember my post about my first 50k, Wally is the guy who came back for me after he finished his race. He’s the consummate Marine, and the epitome of what an American soldier should be. The English language fails me in describing what this man means to my running and my new life. Wally ran 42 miles, came in 5th overall, and was still looking fresh as a daisy at 6am. Animal!

“Fresh as a daisy” is NOT how I’d say I felt after my 40 miles Saturday night; “Emboldened”? Yeah; “Proud”? I’d say yes; “Encouraged”? Absolutely; “Progressed”? Without a doubt; “Humbled”? Bet your sweet ass; “Learned”? A resounding ABSOLUTLEY!

You see, I’d run this distance before in training. My friend from Houma, about 20 miles South of Thibodaux, Stu, put together a training run where he and I, and several other running friends were to run from Houma to Thibodaux, then back to Houma for a total of forty miles…just for funsies. lol! But, I knew when I committed to it, it was going to hurt, and that my body was, as still a somewhat newbie runner, not 100% prepared for it. But that wasn’t really of concern to me. What I wanted to practice was not quitting. Here’s what the few months previous looked like for me as a runner: (1/25/15)started the race year off with my fastest marathon ever at 03:34:16, and fourth in twelve months; (2/14/2015) then within weeks I found myself in Destin at the startline line of my first ultra, a beach 50k; after that, I started to try to get back into speed mode for the upcoming Crecent City Classic (CCC) where I would be aiming for not only a poster (top 500) but a sub-40-minute 10k, so lots of speed training; (3/29/2015) I found myself in Marshall TX the weekend before the CCC for the Healthfest 2015 where I met Rich Roll in person for the first time, and we recorded our latest podcast conversation, and I ran a 5k in which I PR’d my mile at 5:50; (4/4/2015) ran the CCC in 41:06, not my goal but felt good about it, it was everything I had, still a PR; (4/27/2015) we started our “fun run” from Houma to Thibodaux and back…

Needless to say, I knew it would be rough. But again, I was just practicing the being-out-on-the-course-all-day aspect of it, as I knew I had signed up to run a 100k in October 2015. And boy did that run empty my vessel for sure! The last 8-10 miles was just pure survival. With 6 miles to go I was reduced to walking only. In the last 4 I could no longer stop walking for water breaks (I was carrying water tho) for fear of ceasing up with cramps and not being able to continue. But, as grueling and tough as it was, I made it back to my truck in Houma. Stu, my marathoning buddy Jerome, who ran off in mile 36ish to get back in time for his daughter’s soccer game (BEAST!), and my new friend Chris, who I’d only previously known on Strava, got in 40 tough miles on a random, hot, muggy, April Sunday. It felt great to be done, and to have that new skin hanging on my wall (sorry for the trapper metaphor, vegans.lol)!

Finally, back to this Saturday night…

So, I knew I’d done the distance before. I knew I could suffer through it and get it done. I had learned some more about my mid-run nutrition and hydration on subsequent (to the 40-miler) long runs leading up to this, and although I knew I had probably run too many miles leading into this all-night, timed event, again, I was practicing my not quitting more than the actual running of 40 miles. Although, I wanted 40 miles that night, come hell or high water!

But here’s the thing, I abandoned my newly found gel-nutrition, Ion-capsule-infused-water hydration, en lieu of using whole foods to fuel my run. I had, instead of Huma gels and electrolyte water, dates and potato/rice burritos, and gallons of just regular water.

This was a mistake, and here’s why. While I felt good early, I wasn’t getting anything in the way of calories or electrolytes into my body ahead of time, before I really needed it, as I had been on my previous long runs with solid results. I knew I had food to eat back at the truck, and my plan was to start eating dates around the 8 to 10 mile mark, which I did. I was going to start eating my potato burritos at about 15-18 miles. This was an experiment that failed in a large way. The problem was was 1.), I wasn’t drinking my normal electrolyte water because I thought I’d have all I needed in the pickle juice (yes, that was my plan), and 2.) when it was time for me to eat my burritos I was already vomiting and about to pass out, therefore food wasn’t gonna happen…fun shit!

I ran right into a brick wall in mile 18. Mile 19 took me the better part of an hour, and the pussy deep inside me contemplated dropping. But instead, I dug into my running bag and grabbed some old Huma gels. I smashed back about four in a row. I went to the restroom and looked at myself in the eyes. The main reason I’d done this was because a couple of my friends were telling me I looked “bad”, which I assumed meant pale and dehydrated. The bathroom mirror visit proved them right; I looked rough. But while I was there, I literally looked at myself and said “you are not going to quit, you hear me mother fucker! Get it together, take a deep breath and let’s get moving. You got this!” I hobbled out of the restroom straight onto the track and began to chop away at the, at the time, seemingly insurmountable remaining 21 miles, which I wanted to get done before 6am.

By mile 20 I was feeling good enough to post an update about my progress to Instagram. I remember looking at myself on the screen of my phone and thinking, “still looking a little rough, playa!” But, by the time I got back to my truck and got some more gels in me, I was feeling better. As the miles passed, I felt better and better. I found a nice lady with some s-caps, and she got into the routine of giving me three about every other loop. But, as I wasn’t planning to use gels on this run, I ran out quickly. Thanks to Wally and Jean being at their trucks as I finished one of my loops, I was able to explain that I had switched to gels, was feeling better, but had completely exhausted the supply of left-over gels I had in my running bag. The two of them pitched in and donated enough calories for me to finish.

My only problem by this time was severe cramping. I was feeling great now, mentally. I had my stamina back, and I wanted to run, and I was able to run miles without stopping at times, then I’d cramp badly and have to walk. Then I’d slowly ramp it back up and string together a few more consecutive miles of running, then boom!, cramps again. This was the rhythm for the last 16-18 miles. I even caught my little asshole, chackbilly, dickhead buddy Ethan at one point, who had gotten past me, only to have him catch back up and overtake me as I was walking out my cramps about a mile and half later. “Fuckin cramps!,” I thought to myself, “gonna have Ethan all puffed up in the damn head…” (Don’t take up for him. This how he’s treated. He’s used to it.).

By mile 34, I knew I’d get my 40 done. It was going to be close. I had cost myself a lot of time with a pretty huge race plan brain fart, but I did the math in my head and figured I could get 40, just barely, but I could get it. I had even decided that if 6am were to catch me, that I was going to continue anyway to get my forty. DNF or not.

In mile 36 I saw a sight for sore eyes. Wally was rounding out his last lap, mile 42. He said “how ya doing, big J?” And I just walked over to him and hugged him as tight as I could. I told him I was gonna get my 40, I only had 1.5 laps to go, and I could feel he was proud of me. We were both sweaty and tired, but he looked good.

I made it back to the truck for my last water/gel/salt-capsule refill. My watch died just after I clocked 38.1 miles. I walked/jogged as fast as I could for the last two miles to make it to 40 miles before the 6am cutoff: 5:56am.

When I got back, of course the first face I saw was JT’s. He just said something to the affect of “kudos, brah. I don’t know how y’all fuckers did that! Congratulations!” I couldn’t even look at him, because I really didn’t want to bust out into tears. I don’t want this to be a big deal. This is my new normal…

I met and ran with some awesome people on my run run Saturday night. And that’s the draw: the people. You see, building a new normal is work. It can’t be done alone. You can try, but the likelihood of sliding back into your old ways, the ways that kept/keeps you less-than is very high. Just like we tend to not eat like shit and drink alone, living/thriving/achieving is best done in the company of people who embolden your spirit and keep you accountable. I love my running family, my life team, my partners in crime. Thank you for being there, and thank you for getting us together, Erika (founder of Thibodaux Running Group).

Believe you can. Associate with those who think your right about that. And have fun getting it done. #runthibodauxIMG_9305

Running With a Purpose

As I listened intently to Rich Roll‘s podcast a couple weeks ago, I learned about a bold fella named James Lawrence. He had quiet confidence and a loud, world-record-shaping mission. A young father of five, James (A.K.A. The Iron Cowboy) is a dad that gets to spend time with his kids and their classmates. In doing so, he noticed an issue that is prevalent among school children, his kid’s very classmates: obesity. And even though his state of residence is not one of the fattest states in the country (as mine is), it is a noticeable, heart-wrenching issue. Further, he learned of a statistic that has equally effected me in my journey: this generation of children is the first generation in history expected to NOT outlive their parents. As a father of five, he found this completely unacceptable. This, in a nutshell, has spurred him to DO. As an avid triathlete, and current world record holder in that realm, he aimed to use his athletic prowess to shine a bright light on the rocky shores that so threaten the children of this great nation: obesity and obesity-connected disease, especially among children. He has committed to completing a full Ironman-distance triathlons  (2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike, and 26.2 mile run) in all fifty states, in 50 days. Yes, you read that right. While the lumens produced by these actions are significant and brilliant, it will not be enough by itself. The whole idea behind it is use not just raise awareness of the rocky shore, but to inspire the ACTIONS necessary to avoid said shore. Which is what brought me to Alabama on a warm July Thursday afternoon.
After hearing the aforementioned podcast, my buddy Jonanthon (JT) texted to me a message… You see, we had both heard James’ story on the same day via #RRP 149, and Jonathon had a “crazy idea” per this text message. The minute I read the text I knew what the crazy idea was, and if I was right about it, I was IN. Sure enough, just as I suspected, JT was proposing we tri (see what I did) to catch up with the Iron Cowboy as he made his way along the gulf coast. We have a buddy in Mobile, and we noticed that Iron Cowboy James would be completing his 20th (!) Ironman-distance there. So, we decided to, pending tropical weather, go run the 26.2 miles with him that day. Lucky, the weather cooperated, James was still going strong, and the run was on…
JT and I pulled up at the Iron Cowboy’s staging area in Fairhope, Alabama, right on the other side of Mobile Bay from Mobile, Alabama. It was at a cool looking little place called the Windmill Market. As soon as we arrived we noticed runners waiting around for James to wrap up his bike leg so they could begin the run with him. As we mingled and waited for the Iron Cowboy to get back to the Windmill Market ourselves, we met some cool folks. Almost immediately someone recognized me thanks to Rich Roll and his podcast, and my having been a guest myself. This is something that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to, but am flattered and grateful for. That very recognition will, I hope, serve as a seed for being able to reach people much the same way Rich and James are, in a way that positively effects health trajectories one by one, and ultimately, concentrically; a bayou, a state, a region, a nation, a world. But, anyway, after meeting all these nice people, and making the usual introductions, the Iron Cowboy shows up on his bike.

If one had assumed, as we did, that a man on his 20th ironman in as many days would need a minute after he jumped off his bike before he started his run, one would be incorrect. James whipped in, took a few photos, then BOOM he was off and running. And JT n myself, along with a horde of newly acquired running buddies, fell in right behind him. The start happened so quick that our buddy from Mobile hadn’t had time to make it over from across the bay in time to start with us (he actually ran out ahead of us, and then back, to offset our head start on his Garmin. Runners! Gotta love em. lol!). We made a few loops around Fairhope logging miles and killing time until the 5k was scheduled to kick off back at the start. There, we would pick up even more people. But, before we got kicked back off, James said a few words to the local media and coordinated the all-important pre-run group selfie.

As we ran the 5k (miles 8,9,&10 for us), I talked and bonded with strangers who were strangers no more due to mileage and scenery, and apparently Rich Roll again; while running and talking I heard a “is that the voice of Josh LaJaunie I hear?,” come from behind as I ran, to which I replied with a typical “yes ma’am.” Turns out she is a big fan of the RRP and knew who I was. Crazy! We continued through the beautiful little town of Fairhope until we ultimately, in 3.1 miles, wound up back at the staging/starting area again. Here we lost a few runners as we embarked on the final 16 miles of the Iron Cowboy James’ Alabama marathon.
By now the sun was getting low in the sky. We had a smaller group of runners now, but still his largest marathon group to date per James himself. We ran along the shore of Mobile Bay as the sun set and we were getting well into double digit mileage for the night. As we sadly veered from the beautiful view of Mobile Bay onto a dark running path that paralleled the highway, we sorta separated out into small groups as the path couldn’t handle everyone running shoulder-to-shoulder. In my little pack one of the people with me, besides my buddy Aaron (who would run ahead and back to catch up the mileage he’d missed earlier. Yeah, that guy.), there was a young lady who mentioned her longest run to date was 5 miles. Well, we were about five miles in since the start of the 5k, where she had joined. I knew we had about an 8 mile out-n-back before we were due back in Fairhope, but here she was just running. She had no idea how far she’d make before she would need a ride in, but she was going for it. I was so impressed with her heart. What balls!? I love this stuff! That’s what this kind of things does, besides awareness: it inspires assaulting your normal, breaking new ground, getting hella uncomfortable for the sake of something bigger than yourself. She wound up not hopping into a vehicle until she had done 11 miles! Straight beastmode! In the cutest little package you can imagine. I never even got her name, but I’m so proud of her. Quite inspiring.

We ran into the dark until the mile 17 mark. Then it was time to turn around and head back. We knew we’d be a little shy of 26.2 when we got back, but James wanted to make sure he didn’t take one step more than 26.2 (can you blame the man. He’s on his 20th in a row!). So, we knew we’d be doing some looping once back in town to make the full 26.2. [side note: as I write this, I just saw on Facebook that he is starting today’s marathon now. BEAST]. After the loops, we finished on the exact spot he’d wanted. High fives all around!!!
As we sat around, as runners do after a solid run, we discussed the evening. What a beautiful thing for a beautiful cause. I found my vessel sufficiently emptied. I had a few new friends. And I was completely inspired by the journey Iron Cowboy James has chosen for himself, his family, and his cause.

I usually hate to bring up money, or especially ask for it, but in this case if you can find it in your heart to donate to his cause, as I have, I would be forever grateful. He’s the prime example of how DOING, as opposed to wishing, can start the momentum of a world-changing paradigm shift.

Thank you James Lawrence. It was an absolute honor to empty the vessel in your, and your cause’s, presence. Peace.

F.A.Q.s (profanity. really. js)

 

Let me start this post by saying that I offer no absolutes. For every ascertain I make, one can most likely find a loophole, an exception, a contradiction. That’s life. That’s why there are highly educated lawyers in this world. Everything is open to interpretation. And depending upon what one’s endgame is, there are infinite interpretations of a set of finite words. So, with that in mind, I’d like to write a little bit about some common questions, and some ideas that have bubbled into my head after having heard them fairly often.

 

 

“What do you eat?”
This one is kinda easy.

The first thing I’ll say about this is the way I eat hardly ever requires a recipe, or some structured plan. I don’t dislike recipes or structure at all. I know of several authors whose books are full of great ways to get started, and pages can not only help you create delectable table fare, but also create a plan. And I often refer anyone transitioning to seek them out and use them. But the “be careful of caloric density” caveat I often give gets left out in execution.

So, here’s how I’d like to answer the question:

I eat a diet of beans, whole grains (not bread. whole entire grains), greens, and fruit. I want my fruit and greens to be raw almost all the time. These real human foods are able to be mixed in infinite ways. Familiarize yourself with all the different types of beans, grains, greens, and fruit. Experiment. Find favorites. Watch people who eat this way on social media, you will see stuff you’ve either never heard of or never thought of trying. But you have to do it; it’s not a function of finding the right recipes.

I have smoothies that I mix with oats often as a breakfast, yes, but I also usually have a really hard, calorie-demanding run as an appetizer. I mention my appetizer because 1.) there’s no better way to spur appetite (not that most of us have that problem), and 2.) because at that moment I want my body to get calories in a way that is proportionate to my use of calories, and I want to fuel cellular recovery as efficiently as possible. If you don’t do anything as appetizer before you eat a delicious, whole fruit, no sugar added (by “sugar” I mean any sweetener added to make it taste “better” honey, agave, raw organic cane sugar, or crystalized angel tears), you really shouldn’t have one. Really. Eat a breakfast that you need to chew. Like a piece of fruit, or six.

At the grocery store, I mainly purchase from the produce section, and I go to the store often because the food I buy is very perishable. I know we are accustomed to “makin groceries” like once a week or so, but I prefer to go more often. Plus, I’m lazy and I only buy what I can grab with my hands & I’m out. (I know, I know, I don’t have children tastebuds to satisfy. Again, I point to those who have written cookbooks that I recommend namely “The Plant Power Way”.)

 

 

 

“Yeah, but what about the cravings? I’m a picky eater, I only like certain things.”

This statement is often posed in a way that says “now what? Answer me that!” As if it’s a thing you were born with, like progeria or something. Your cravings and food pickyness is just a thing you do. Stop it. That’s what to do. Stop eating things you have cravings for that make you sick, and cause you to seek answers from someone who has figured it out, to certain degree, for himself in the first place. Yet, what he did won’t work for you because you have cravings, and he doesn’t. Wrong! I have them, but I have turned their volume down in my head, on purpose, because I don’t want the proven outputs associated with them. I have truly educated myself, on purpose, about the difference between what we call “food” and what our evolved bodies know and desire as food. I do these things on purpose because I’m creating a better, more authentic version of myself—to borrow from my mentor, Rich Roll. My existence craves that.

Or, you can keep doing that and wonder why nothing works. So what if a juicy steak is something you “just can’t live without.” Stop lying to yourself. You not only can live without it, but you should significantly curb you intake (like to zero oz.s/day. lol). Most of us know that. Most of us, modern medical science included, know that saturated fat and cholesterol are bad for our cardiovascular system (hence the 610,000 meat-loving cardio patients’ deaths per year—and despite the lauding of Time Magazine covers). Yet we still “can’t live without it.” I submit that the opposite is true. I also submit that as long as you harbor that obstacle, and search for the answer outside of yourself, you will not get traction; you will constantly spin in place, wondering why you just can’t seem to get it together. I’ve lived there most of my life.

Educate yourself thoroughly on what food really is and not what you want it to be (Netflix: Forks Over Knives, Fat Sick and Nearly Dead, Food Matters, Hungry For Change. Books: The Plant Power Way, Whole, Prevent and Reverse Heart Disease, Thrive, Finding Ultra, Eat & Run…). That’s how I overcame “the damn cravings!”

And, yes, get some professional help. You probably need it(I know a guy in Houma, holla). Get a positive group around you that supports your new approach. Don’t be afraid to call it, or deal with it as, an addiction.
“What about all the extra skin?”

First of all, on this question, who gives a shit? Really? You’re overweight. So much so that you are asking me about what will become of all the “extra skin” that you know you have to cover all your extra fat. You obviously don’t like being that way. Yet, like with the “cravings” thing, you need to understand what will happen to it before you get started. So you’re willing to stay overweight to look better in your mind? You stand before me, a person who has something you want, to ask a question that says, in a nutshell, “what I’m scared of the most is to look like I think you look without clothes.” I call bullshit! This is road block creation. If there are roadblocks you can’t proceed, and it’s now out of your hands. Now there’s a good reason to quit before you start. Congrats.

 

“What if I don’t like to run?”

What you don’t like is pain and working hard on your free time and breathing hard and feeling tired and sweaty, or pushing yourself for the sake of a better self; All crucial ingredients to your overcoming this problem. If you say you can’t run, walking vigorously with a perpetual commitment to increase the intensity as part of your activity structure will serve you well until you start running. Unless you are born with a condition, like progeria, that literally prevents you from running/walking, or you have somehow otherwise found yourself incapacitated in regard to standing and walking, you should run/walk. It’s free. It’s nature’s intended use for this organism’s most prominent physical attributes, and will ultimately bring you to your athletic, natural normal when coupled with the natural whole-plant way of eating that evolution has been honing for eons.

Stop laughing-off the fact that you’re being a pussy. Google Derek Mitchell‘s story, then tell me you “can’t,” pussy.
“I’ve been eating vegan for a while, but I have not lost any more weight?”

Caloric density is probably your issue.

I eat from the green bars on this chart almost exclusively. Very rarely do I mess with anything to right of the “legumes” bar. Note that refined complex carbs,”Ref CC,” is to the right of my last green bar. This means breads, pastas, processed cereal, etc. are out 99% of the time for me. I know you can find these things in a minimally processed form, however, the human tends to go overboard with well-it’s-better-than-X foods. I treat the “ok” versions with the same caution.

cal den

Watch this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9gTLpTq1nQk

 

 

“But do you hunt?”
I have hunted and fished my entire life. This question is usually posed as if it were a road block to a plant-based lifestyle. But I challenge you, hunter. I challenge you to consume your game in 1.) a quantity that seems naturally attainable to the human being without the use of tools (which is what makes the large consumable stock-piled-a-freezer quantities possible), 2.) consume it in its natural state; no sausage, tamales, burritos, or myriad other ways we eat our “wild game,” and 3.) keep your consumption to less than 10-20% of calories, not volume, calories. In other words, on a 1000 calorie plate, make the animal part 100 or less (using big numbers here for illustrative purposes).

 

We have a tendency to think we will pre-figure-out before we get started on things that are perceived as difficult in an effort to put off mustering the effort necessary to complete the thing. Homework comes to mind. I would be willfully confused a lot of the time, in retrospect, by my prescribed homework in an effort to prolong doing it. I would get my mom to explain it even after the teacher had already done so in a more specific, assignment-relevant way. Then I would still not “get it.” What was really happening was I was scared to start because it meant giving up something “fun.” However, with maturity, and a desire to thrive in a way that makes my entire being smile, I realized that the homework is the fun; it creates a better version of the Me that the universe magically manifested into existence. I’m only here for a minute. And I want that minute to be wide-ass-open-throttle-great! Come with us, as I am not alone; or hide, watch, and poke holes. Either way, imma do me. Peace.
One last thing: Sorry I called you a pussy. I still want to be friends.

[Tasting] Ultra

I was still about 340lbs when I finally started to “jiggle jog,” as you know if you’ve read my FREE JOSH LAJAUNIE post. Not long after, I decided to sign up for a race: the 2012 Crescent City Classic. I got my ass handed to me by that 6.2 miles (not unlike this weekend lol), but something clicked that day; I didn’t care about losing weight anymore, I wanted to be a runner.

Fast forward to 2014. I ran my first marathon in January, and was training for my second when a sweet, cute, friendly young lady from Thibodaux put together a Thibodaux Running Group on Facebook. I was so pumped! I had already met Jonathon (J) and we had already been running/training together, but this is where I met and became friends with Wally Naquin and Jean Aponte; the crazy-tough, relentlessly happy and uplifting, truly committed runners who talked me into signing up for this 50k. Honestly, it seemed ridiculous. But, my buddies were going (minus J) so I signed up.
I wound up running 4 marathons within the 12 months of my first. ROCK N ROLL NOLA ’15 was my most recent (03:34:14, -01:10:00 off my first). J and I really trained hard for that one. He smashed the damn thing almost breaking 03:30:00. What a day! But, as J knew, I had Destin on my mind through all my marathon training. I was worried about being marathon-ready and not ultra-ready. However Jean, (who had actually run the longest run of anyone I’d known personally up until that point, and since) was a perpetual source of encouragement. I respected what he had to say, and did my best to heed his words. And Wally is a robot, except for that huge, fleshy, selfless heart. They are both the epitome of how I envision an American soldier. They are beasts! And they were going to help me become an ultra-marathoner! Ready or not.

The day before the race, Wally and I ran the 5k with our families who were there to support us (and boy did they!). We learned of Ratchet 33, and how this “5k” was actually 3.33 miles in their honor. It was a special race, and it was our first taste of the Destin sand. I knew the next day was going to be quite an experience after running that race. Derick, my brother-n-law, was shooting for a 5k pr in the Destin sand (coonass-crazy!). Wild ass almost did it, too. He wasn’t the only one (wild coonass, that is), Wally’s wife got across the finish first out of all of us. She was flyin’! But after running in the destin sand for the first time, we all kinda shared a look that said “31 fuckin miles?!”.

Derick got him a nice patch of sand, and chilled on it. Wally and Nikki, his wife, found the beer (shocker!), and I was making a hyperlapse video of people finishing up in the insane scenery for the ‘gram (also, shocker!). My brother and his sweetheart were next in; Mom, Kassi, and my little nephew (inside Kass’s belly) all finished with solid times and efforts. And I’m pretty sure I shared a “31 fuckin miles?!” look post-race with almost everyone in our group that morning. We hung out for a little while after the race, but we had to get back to the condo to get cleaned up and fed. Wally, Jean, and I had to get to the pre-race meeting at 1:30pm. I can only speak for myself, but I was scared shitless. This was going to be tough.

destin6destin8

Yet, later in the day, while we were giggle-fartin’ over being in Destin, the wind and temps, and the anticipation of the “potentially chest-deep water crossings” we’d learned of at the 1:30pm pre-race meeting, the 24hrs/100mile guys were getting started! They started as the weather deteriorated Saturday afternoon. The winds had to be 20mph and cold! They started a one mile out-n-back route to log the prerequisite 50 miles before the 5am start of the 50 mile race, where they were to then take off with the people only running 50 miles. Then, the people only running 50k, were to kick off at 6am.

The weather report had been indicating that it would be in the high thirties and windy on race morning. And from what I was seeing Saturday afternoon, it was proving to be quite windy already. I was sufficiently worried (shitless I tell ya). The first thing I did when my eyes opened at around 2:50am Sunday morning was check the weather app on my phone. It was 60°. YES! However, the temp was forecast to drop to about 45° by 7am, but less wind than witnessed on Saturday afternoon, and plenty sunshine. The weather was going to be great for our run! I was pumped! I couldn’t go back to sleep so I got up and fidgeted around the condo making sure all my stuff was ready. Around 5am or so I headed to the beach to meet up with Jean n Wally. I was so nervous; these guys (Jean n Wally specifically) are tough, they’ve been through basic, they’ve used their bodies in ways I have never (I’ve seen the Nat Geo documentaries about how our service men and women train…)  I was worried about disappointing them and not keeping the pace.

3 smiles, but behind them, inside of those heads, echoed the words "chest-deep water crossing"
3 smiles, but behind them, inside those heads, echoed the words “chest-deep water crossing”

After the race started, the nerves settled and the beauty of the morning was all I could feel. We ran and talked and ran and sang and talked and laughed (and pee’d). We were high-fiving our leap-frogging, poster-toting, cheer-leading section at every checkpoint. My brother even managed to get a protesting Bam Bam to the beach “in all that damn wind!” to see me run by in mile 20 (a feat in itself). Everything was awesome! Until mile 24.

what a glorious thing
what a glorious thing

On the way back, the tide had come up a little, and we were being pushed against the dry sand by the waves. So I found myself often deciding between getting wet feet from an oncoming wave and exerting precious energy to jump the 18″ sand cliff to avoid it. This is where I began to get my feet wet and sandy for, really, the first time. I began to fall off the pace not long after that. I encouraged my buddies to keep truckin’. I’d just finish this up solo. That last leg found me crying, laughing, talking to myself in both anger and pride. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Then, with about two miles to go I see what I thought was a mirage. Was that Wally running back toward me!?! When he got closer I knew without a doubt it was, in fact, Wally coming back for his buddy. I started to cry. He got to me and said “I’m not gonna push you, I just want be with you.” I had about 1.5 miles to go. Then, with about a mile left, my brother and his girlfriend showed up to help run me in. The love was overwhelming. They got me running again, and I was able to run on in. An hour behind my buddies, but an ultra-marathoner nonetheless.  destin9destin11destin7

Not only was this experience profound for me as part of my weight-loss and running story, but as an American. I’m a boy who grew up in the shadow of his Bam Bam. My Bam Bam is my grandfather. He served in the Korean War on the USS Lofberg 759. I love him like no other. He was at mile 20 as well as the finish line Sunday. Having him there, Wally and Jean running with me, and the whole event raising tens of thousands of dollars (over &50,000.00 was the last figure I’ve seen) for the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, made me feel like more of an American than I ever have in my life. I’m proud of the men and women who make the dream of “the land of the free and the home of the brave” the truth.

I will never forget Ratchet 33, and I will never forget my first ultra.

Thank you, Destin. Thank you, America.

IMG_1909

#TCSNYCMARATHON

Where do I start?….

Well, I guess the most logical place, in my head, is to start with a 5k I ran in Thibodaux about a year ago. That’s where I met Jonathon Thomassie, my partner in crime. The 5K was my very first race in Thibodaux, my hometown. I had been running for about two years, and I had run the Crescent City Classic a couple times, but running a race in Thibodaux is something I hadn’t done. I was feeling good about where I was because I had recently run a 5k in New Orleans and came in second in my age group with a time around 26 minutes (it was a small race). So, the morning of the Thibodauxville 5k, I was stretching out, warming up, and generally eyeing up the “competition.” I was wondering just where I might place in little ole Thibodaux. Anyway, at about 1.5 miles into the race I saw a visor-clad bald head bouncing up and down way out in front of me. And, as judging runners mid-race is something I tended to do, I pegged the owner of this head and visor as a “real” runner based on his form and the fact he was so far out in front of me. I decided to try to reel him in. By mile 2 I had caught up to him. However, when I tried to pass him, he wasn’t having it. We ran side-by-side, total strangers, both not wanting to let the other be the over-taker, all the way to the finish. He pushed ahead and beat me by a nose in the end. But, I’d run the 5k in 00:22:30! A new PR!
Immediately across the finish line we dapped it out, and he showed mad love for the effort I’d shown. Subsequent conversation revealed that he had actually already run 8 miles before the race, and that I had lost, at the time, about 180lbs. That day the first domino fell in what would become one of the most special friendships I have ever had.

Fast forward to the following April, this past April. I was wanting to run the Crescent City Classic (the CCC) this year in under 50 minutes, but I learned through both running with Jonathan and with the people at the Louisiana Running Company that I may be fast enough to get a seeded bib, which takes a 00:45:00 10k qualifying time. From the seeded bib corral I’d be able to take a shot at getting into the top 500 and snatching up one of the highly coveted CCC posters. So, a few weeks prior, Jonathon and myself ran a 10k race over the Luling Bridge from one side of the Mississippi River to the other; we both qualified for the seeded corral at the CCC. In said corral this April, as we waited for the start gun, Jonathon says “hey brah, I have an invitation to run the NYC Marathon this year. I think there is a way to get guaranteed entry if you raise money for a charity. Would you be down?” My answer was “hell yes!” We both went on to crush the CCC and get our posters that day, by the way.

The following week I found Team For Kids (TFK) and the New York Road Runners (NYRR), and learned about this “guaranteed entry” Jonathon was telling me about. I joined the NYRR and signed up to be a TFK team member, and committed to raise $100.00/mile for Team For Kids, $2620.00. I was nervous at first but I quickly realized that social media, and the people with which it had connected me (mostly due to recently being interviewed about my story on an amazing podcast with what turned out to be a very generous listenership), along with family and long-time friends, would make that task completely doable. We were able to reach the pledge amount a month early, which really helped me mentally; I was able to really focus on my training for the last two months or so before the race.

The training! Jonathon and I went IN on that training. YA HEARD!
I remembered reading about heart rate training in Rich Roll’s book, Finding Ultra. So, we adopted a training plan that used heart rate, as opposed to pace, to gauge effort. Heart rate training makes sure you’re doing all your body can handle and nothing less, plus it makes the pace you can achieve in lower heart rate zones faster. This helps conserve glycogen while still actually going faster. Anyway, we spent lots of early mornings at the local high school track, hot afternoons with our Thibodaux Running Group, and long Saturday mornings pounding the pavement of New Orleans for our 15+ mile runs. It hurt so good. We knew we were making ourselves as ready as we could for what we were reading could be a difficult marathon…

Taper week:

After all the training hours and miles logged, I was looking forward to the taper when it came. But as the taper began, my family and I almost suffered a great blow. My dad had a heart attack that very nearly took his life just 13 days before the race. So, while my running load may have wained, my and my family’s emotions were in high gear. I was very scared for the ole man’s life. But thanks to a local hospital with an amazing group of caring, responsive, genuinely gifted staff we get to keep his ass around for a little while (maybe I’ll get him into a 5k after all this). He made it back home by the weekend before I left, and by the day of my flight out he was looking and sounding like his old self again. He was well enough to take care of my and wife’s baby boy, Zeus, while I was gone.

ALLONS, BRAH!

With Dad back home, my flight awaiting, and my gear all packed up, I hit the airport at 4am for a 6:30am flight. Excited as hell, and raring to go. My buddy Jonathon got a flight later in the day and met me at the hotel Friday afternoon.

Saturday we did the expo, and, on our iPhones, were able to watch a lot of our other running friends’ times post as they finished the Jazz Half Marathon being run in New Orleans that morning. Everyone was crushing their PR’s! We were quite elated to see all the kickassery happening back home. We even had a couple friends, who didn’t run the actual race, run 13.1 on the streets of Thibodaux that morning, smashing their PR’s of course. Between their times and our bout-it ass Marine buddy the weekend before at the Marine Corps. Marathon in D.C., who ran a blazing 03:43, you could say the bar was set pretty high. I think I can speak for Jonathon here, and say that our friends sparked us. We were so proud of everyone! I’m getting chills as I write these very words. We were JACKED.

With our bibs in hand, and a fresh dose of inspiration from the Thibodaux Running Group, we got back to the room and tried to get still for the long Sunday day we knew awaited us. The weather forecast was not very pretty. It was calling for 40mhp gusts, and about 38 degree temperatures at the start! (here is the actual weather from that day)This is not coonass-friendly weather to say the least. So, Sunday morning we decided to do what Jonathon was calling a “dress rehearsal” to see how what we were planning to wear for the race would feel in the cold.

As we jogged through the lobby, on the way out to the cold-ass, windy streets of Manhattan to test our race gear, I heard “Joshua” in a very familiar voice. It was not Jonathon; it was my beautiful, amazing wife! She had been working with Jonathon for months to surprise me with her presence. An effort to make me bawl like baby I was sure. But due to a clue the night before, I wasn’t as surprised as they’d hoped, and I did not bawl just yet. However, I was extremely excited to a.) see my baby’s face, b.) hear my baby’s voice, and c.) know that she would be at the finish with waiting arms for her husband.

After hugging and loving on Beej, and letting her make slight fun of how ridiculous, and slightly scary I looked (mostly due to my follicle-richness about the head and face), we decided we were satisfied with our gear so we went back up to the room and began our final prep before boarding our buses to Staten Island for the start. Due to the time-demanding logistics of getting 50,000 people corralled and ready to race, we spent as much time waiting for the start on Saten Island as we did actually running the marathon. So by the time we began, we had been up for several hours in the windy cold, standing around because the ground was too wet to sit due to the all-day rain the day before. Sitting in the port-a-let, and on the bus ride in, was the only time we were really able to get off our feet.
At about 10:40am EST we got into our corral. By 10:50 we were off! With “Eye Of The Tiger” playing over the p.a. system, as we crept toward the start-line, Jonathon and I were understandably, outwardly-audible and fuckin pumped! Then “New York, New York” came over the speakers, a tune I was expecting to here, per all the YouTube videos I’d watched leading up to the race. It was GO TIME. The Garmins chirped as we finally started our NYC Marathon experience.

Mile one is uphill on the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. We just eased into a soft pace exactly like we had been talking about for months. Then, came the downhill. I’m a heavier guy than Jonathon, and I find it easier to just let it fly on downhills. It’s hard work for me to slow myself, so I just pick up my cadence and lean into the downhill. But as we clocked mile 2, I could hear my boy Jonathon behind me: “dude! Mile two, 7:56! Chill, bro!” A statement I expected to hear a lot from him, as I have tendency to come out too fast in races. Jonathon is a lot more controlled, and frankly, intelligent than I am. We did eventually “chill” and found a nice little grove as we traversed Brooklyn. The crowds there were amazing! It was hard to hold back with all those people cheering you on. But we did, kinda, thanks to Jonathon.
I was expecting the ups and downs on the bridges, but the long inclines(sometimes a mile or two at a time) on the streets were something that had not really entered my mind. They were in my mind by 5th Av, but I digress, back to Brooklyn. I was feeling strong in Brooklyn. Taking in NY while running side-by-side with one of my closest friends was simply amazing. We clicked off mile after mile. We high-fived strangers along the streets. I knew we were probably moving faster than Jonathon thought were going to, or should, because he kept asking if I felt o.k.; almost as if I probably shouldn’t given our current pace.

The 10k mark came and went before I knew it. Then 10 miles. I actually said to Jonathon, in a surprised voice “10 miles already, bro?!” At this point we were still clipping along at whatever pace. I didn’t know our pace. I didn’t want to know. I just wanted to run 26.2 as fast as I could. Jonathon was still checking in with me from time to time, tugging on my reigns (Clydesdale reference, lol). At this point I was noticing the hills, but they still were not hurting me.

The first time it started to feel like work was the Queensboro Bridge. The incline was fairly steep, so trying to keep the pace we had established was, for the first time, grueling. Plus, at this point, we started to encounter runners who were now walkers. They were clogging the roadway a little. And people were taking pictures of the magnificent views of Manhattan from the bridge. The views were spectacular, but we were there to DO WORK and represent our brothers and sisters back home, so we leaned in and pushed hard up the bridge. And, again, I flew down the backside of it with abandon, Jonathon on my tail in quiet protest.

At the bottom of the Queensboro Bridge we came onto 1st Av where the “wall of sound” I’d read so much about was supposed to be. It was not even close to the decibel level of Brooklyn, they BROUGHT IT, Ya heard! But it was still cool. It was still loud. I guess I may have built it up too much in my head. Anyway, next is that mother fucker of a long stretch up 1st Av toward the Bronx.
By this time I’m definitely working hard. And the hills and headwind are starting to get to me. I’m feeling my right hamstring wanting to cramp. My elation is gone and I’m officially grinding. Somewhere in mile 19, after a long, slow, asshole of an incline, my right hamstring locked up. I immediately yelled out “oh no!” Jonathon stopped with me for a second or two. He wasn’t cramping, I was. But he stopped and helped massage my hammy. That’s a fuckin friend! All bullshit aside, I started to cry. I started apologizing because I just knew I was done. I also knew what kind of dude Jonathon was, and he was not going to leave me, which meant his PR was going bye-bye. I felt terrible. He’d been trying to slow me down since about mile two, and now my fast start was gonna cost my friend his PR.

Up until this point Jonathon hadn’t said much. I could tell he really felt for me, even though we both knew I’d done exactly what we said I shouldn’t: come out hot. But, as I was trying to get my leg back into walk mode, and hoping it would eventually be able return to jog mode, and maybe eventually to run mode, Jonathon says,” brah, I know you don’t want to know your pace, but we are so far ahead of a 4-hour marathon we could walk/jog the rest and still make it.” Those words sat on my brain for a second. At first they were comfort. It only took seconds, though, for them to spark me. I didn’t want a sub-4-hour marathon; I knew that following this man around Thibodaux for the previous 18 weeks had prepared me for more. I knew it would hurt, but I also knew I could still run. We hadn’t come all this way to settle for a seven-mile walk-jog finish. Fuck dat! I took off with an audibly concerned Jonathon behind me suggesting we “pull it back a hair, just get loose first.” While it may have seemed reckless to my concerned friend, I wanted to empty the vessel, and by-god, it was time to make it fuckin hurt!
As I ran I was throwing my right leg way out front, keeping my toe pointed up, trying to stretch my hammy with every stride. This was actually letting me keep what I felt like was a decent pace.
In mile 20 we passed a man wearing a I RUN FOR ALZHEIMERS t-shirt. Once I got around him, I gave him a thumbs-up and attempted to tell him about my Bam Bam’s dementia, but started crying very hard instead. “Bam Bam” became my mantra. I started talking out loud to him: “Hey Bam, get the fuck up, we going for a run, brah!…I love you, Bam Bam…we are running through NYC, you crazy son of a bitch!…5.5 miles, Bam!…lets get it!…me n you!”
As I was having my imaginary Bam Bam conversation, I heard Jonathon, who hadn’t left me in his dust just yet, say “Tiki!!! We just passed Tiki Barber, brah!” So, I told Bam Bam, “we just passed Tiki fuckin Barber! 5 more miles, buddy!” I was hurting, but encouraged.
Then, somewhere in mile 21, Jonathon started to pull away. I was so happy! The finish was looking like it would pan out like I’d hoped: me chasing Jonathon on his way to a PR. Now I just wanted to keep Jonathon in our sights (you know, me n Bam).
5th Av was fucking torture. This was kinda the homestretch. We had just clicked through mile 22 at a painful but quick clip. Four miles left! Now I’m running the way I’m used to at the end of difficult long or fast runs: behind Jonathon, watching his bald head bounce away out in front. It was my proudest moment. We’ve been running together for a year, and in that moment, I knew he really was the ANIMAL I’d assumed he was. I watch the bald head and the RUN THIBODAUX shirt out in front of me as a beacon of where I want to be as a runner, and, as usual, I chased. But somehow, not long after we made the turn into Central Park, I lost sight of him. It was just me n Bam now.
By this time folks were giving up on their efforts to keep running, en masse. And on the narrower roads of Central Park it made it necessary to work from shoulder to shoulder of said roads to keep any kind of a decent pace. I may have been considered rude by some at that point, but I hadn’t come all this way to be “courteous” and walk, as to avoid a slight nudge as I passed people in mile 25 or 26. I got some dirty looks. I get it. But I also got some, “you got this! Go get it, big man!” A helluva a lot more of the latter, I must say.
Turning right at Columbus Circle was almost as awesome as the finish line. I’d seen it on YouTube videos several times. I knew this was it. Then came the 400m-to-go marker, then 200m. I heard someone scream “JOSHUA!!JOSHUA!!!JOSHUAAAA!!!!!” But I’d heard that name called all day. As it turns out, I was not the only Joshua in NYC. So, I stayed focused on the finish, thinking another dude named Joshua was finishing near me. My lovely wife corrected this incorrect assumption post-race. But, at the moment, I was trying to hammer that last little kiss-my-ass uphill to the finish.
At the finish line a guy in front of me dropped to his knees and kissed the ground. As I went around him, crying loudly and uncontrollably, I simultaneously thought if I’d tried that I wouldn’t be able to stand back up. The clock at the finish didn’t give me my exact time because I started in Wave 3 with Jonathon, and our wave left some 50 minutes after the clock had started. Then I realized, “shit! I didn’t stop my watch!” When I finally did, after walking for a bit, it said 03:49:33! So, I knew I had been faster than that! Que the fuckin waterworks again. I walked to the medals, was donned with that beautiful, surprisingly heavy son of bitch and my Mylar blanket. I ran into Jonathon, who told me he had, in fact, PR’d! Holy shit! We didn’t say much after that. We just hugged it out like bosses. Then we separated as I went to the Team For Kids area, and he walked back to our hotel (a beastly feat I still don’t know how he managed).
For the first time ever I ducked into a post-race medical tent. I was completely spent. I made a sobbing video for all the people I knew were watching, who had donated to help me get here, who were on my mind if not part of my mantra throughout the entire race. I calmed down, got hydrated, and made a few new friends. I even met a guy, who after listening to me tell him my story, told me he had done almost the exact thing; He’d read Rich Roll’s Finding Ultra, he’d fallen in love with running and plants, and his weightloss was in the triple digits. We exchanged contact info, gave each other a loud, proud, PLANTPOWER high-five, and my official race experience was over. Simply fucking EPIC.

I can’t thank you enough. Whether you donated money, or gave love and moral support, or both. Even if I don’t know you personally, I can say this with complete honesty: I LOVE YOU. Here are some pics set to Tab Benoit’s Night Train.

And I want to give a special thanks to my and Jonathon’s families. While we were running, recovering, and repeating, you were steady in your support. You held strong for us. You fought through what must have been frustrating at times, confusing at times, and downright irritating at times. Yet, you leaned in and beasted out. To the real badasses in this story: love, kisses, gratitude.

Paying It Forward

I had a cool experience this weekend, well, two: I ran 17 miles at a sub-9:00/mile pace; and I spoke publicly, in person, about my story for the first time.

A big goal of mine for a long time was to run a marathon. I completed that. And as I’ve shared in a previous post, I wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the manner in which I did so. So, it’s back to the drawing board as far as training is concerned. The first thing I am addressing is just simply to run more. During the months prior to my first marathon effort, I followed, rather religiously I must say, a training plan my wife and I found online. It had us doing speed work, tempo runs, and distance. The way it was broken up was good for me at the time. I enjoyed the time in between runs, and used it to workout in the gym. But from a results perspective it didn’t get me what I wanted; I felt like a deadman walk/jogging in mile 22. This time I want to finish strong, I want run the entire time, and I want to finish in under 4 hours. I’ve heard from more experienced runners, and have read, “just log miles!”. So, as I loosely follow another training plan, I will refocus my energy on “getting the miles on my legs,” as I heard it put on the Rich Roll  Podcast with Christian Isackson, who has done Ultraman Hawaii and Ultraman Canada, as well as Epic 5. You should take the time to listen. It was profound, and spoke to me. Some of the very ideas in the following text are from that podcast.

In the interest of getting the miles on my legs, I am running a, what I’m calling, practice marathon. It will be in the South Lousiana July heat basically lapping a favorite park of mine in NOLA about 14 times.  My real next marathon will be in NYC!

You see, as I have made goals and achieved them (weight-loss, becoming a runner, running a marathon, getting a CCC poster), I have learned something about myself: I can do so much more than I ever thought possible. As a fat kid, with a fat brother and sister, being raised by a fat mom (my dad was not fat, and worked 80-90 hr weeks) whose parents were fat, I never imagined that not being fat was even possible, much less some of the other things I’ve been able to accomplish in my getting un-fat mission. Being able to share things that have beautifully altered my mindset along the way with children is something I feel compelled to do. It’s one of my next big goals. I want to use running as a way to help little Joshes, Dustins, and Kassis (my siblings) understand what possible really is, where it’s really defined and realized: inside yourself. Who we think we are is what sets boundaries, and limits what we think we can achieve. Our essence is where our true self lives. Our essence is who we need to face the world for us. Our essence is what’s left when we strip away everything we THINK we are. And running has done that for me. When you push your physical body to its limit, you realize it’s just a vessel for your essence. And that vessel, can be a physical manifestation of your essence. Or it can be a facade. Physical endurance as a sport has taught me a great lesson about making my outside match my inside, my vessel match essence, and I want to help pay that forward.

Teaching this lesson is something that organizations like Team For Kids is doing. Yes, we have organizations here doing the same. Run Youth NOLA in particular is doing the same thing. And I must admit, I wrestled with the idea of getting behind an organization all the way in New York City (Pace Pecante Sauce commercial voice) when we already have folks doing that here within the NOLA area code. The fact is, I think a former 400lbs. man running the New York City marathon in under 4 hours may have the potential to draw a larger audience to my story, in turn turning up the volume on my voice. And I think ultimately this may have even more impact back home than me running a random 5k with kids from the 504 (which I plan to do anyway between now and then and after). Please donate here if so compelled. It would mean the world to me.

click link to donate
click link to donate

Speaking of what I’ve learned along the way and sharing it, I got to share my story with people in a public, in-person setting for the first time Saturday. That was quite an experience. I got to meet some really cool people, practice my message as an advocate of a healthier, plant-based human existence, and learn a lot about the current ideas present in the plant-based community.

As I looked around while sitting in on some of the talks being given this weekend, I noticed people taking notes, asking questions, getting the specifics. I also saw people just kinda sitting back and taking it in. But we were all there for the same thing: to learn more about eating plants. I was able to meet a few people in the halls between these talks. I even met a few there who were interested in the physical fitness attributes of eating plants. One guy had even heard my interview with Rich Roll on his podcast (he saw my RichRoll.com Plant Power t-shirt). That was especially cool. Speaking with these folks got me going. They spurred me. They made me want to spew forth with everything I’d learned along the way, but we were together for only minutes. Then came my and my co-panelist’s moment to be the focal point of the room.

Introducing myself. #WHODAT #PLANTPOWER gotta represent
introducing myself. #WHODAT #PLANTPOWER

I briefly spoke first, but cut it a little short as I choked up when I talked about becoming the runner I wanted to be. We both gave a quick synopsis of our stories and let the room get to the questioning. That part was so fun! I think we both brought something unique to the table, and it was over before I knew it. Even after the room began to empty, we both had little groups around us still asking questions, getting answers, and asking more…I loved that.

Next year I would love to speak longer, and have more time to field questions. What an amazing experience. Maybe next year we can kick off the NOLA Veggie Fest with a 5k, have Run Youth NOLA there, and teach them about the power of plants and running.

Genetics and Disease

The following are some words I wrote in completing a recent assignment. I wanted to share them with those who may be interested.

 

Genes do not determine disease on their own.

Let me start here by giving an example. I grew up in south Louisiana. My maternal grandparents were quasi parents to me, as my birth parents were very young and were working very hard to get a foothold in life as to provide for their young child. By spending time with my grandparents, who I love more than you can imagine, I got to meet a lot of our extended family because my grandparents would travel almost weekly around the south visiting various family members. What I saw on those visits was overweight, and mostly morbidly obese (including my grandparents) people. Although I didn’t make these literal assumptions then, I know now that I was learning who we were as a family; what we looked like; what we ate; how we thought. And this shaped the view I had of myself, who I was, and who I was supposed to be: a fat person; it’s just who we are.

Now, I have lived with those inherent assumptions for most of my 35 years. And armed with those assumptions, I read literature, heard new stories, and watched documentaries about how genetics places a destiny upon us over which we have no control. Logically, if this were true, one tends to let go of the thought of reaching beyond his or her genetic make-up; “hell, I was born to be fat, just look around.,” as he or she sits at the Thanksgiving table, “oh well, pass the gravy.”

But, with education on the topic, one learns that, yes, one may in fact be genetically predisposed to obesity (which is the precursor to almost all chronic disease). However, it takes a certain lifestyle to realize this genetic destination. In other words, the destination is not realized on genetics alone. No, having been born to a certain family with certain habits creates a likelihood of arriving at that genetic destination, but getting there has less to do with genetics than it does with habit, lifestyle. And yes, changing those things can be difficult. Yes, changing those things in your life can, in some ways, isolate you from the ones you love, for in common bad habits grows a certain kinship. Or, you can be a lighthouse for that in-danger vessel of a family. You can stoically, perpetually, emit a signal to indicate a possible course correction. Lighthouses are not bossy. They just, through merely being there, doing the same thing over and over without fail, help a given vessel determine a path more conducive to avoiding the rocky shores of chronic disease.  

Be a lighthouse for the ones you love, the ones whose genes you share.

 

Full disclosure: This lighthouse may be a tad bossy to his vessel.

From morbidly obese to marathon complete

Look, I’m not gonna get too fluffy and chest-puffy here. Yes, my goal of finishing a marathon was achieved. However, my finish was not what I was looking for. I completed a marathon, yes, but I didn’t complete it without having to walk at times. I did not complete it without feeling like I may die at times. I did not complete it with a strong upward-sloping momentum as I had envisioned. So in short, I have a marathon under my belt, kinda.

I have learned a lot about myself, my new self. The old me would have been complacent and satisfied with a finish, saying, “You did it, buddy. Good job.” The new me’s sentiments are more like, “ok Josh, you got 26.2 under your belt, but you know those results were not good enough. We are a runner now. Merely ‘finishing’ is no longer the goal.” It feels good to look at something that seemed insurmountable three years ago as a somewhat satisfactory, not exemplary, outcome. Things in your mind change when you start addressing the impossible and changing them to the accomplished. My next impossible is a sub-4 hour effort. I am a long way from this goal, but it’s the next hill on the horizon.

 Speaking of hills, that’s what punched me in the teeth on this marathon. I figured (with no real coach or training, by the way) I should complete the first half of the marathon about 10 minutes slower than the effort I gave at the Louisiana Marathon, which was a 1:58. So, I looked back to my run-tracking app to find my first 1/2 marathon time (3 half-marathons ago). That time was 2:13, and my app said a 9:47 pace (I now know this is off). My logic was based on me comparing a friend’s half-marathon time to his first 1/2 of his last Marathon. The first half of his Marathon effort was 10minutes slower than what his 1/2 marathon time was. So, I aimed to do that too. I aimed even slower, 15 minutes slower than my half-marathon time of 1:58. However, because I had no overall time displayed on my new watch, I was just aiming at finishing the first half at a 9:47 pace, which actually, in retrospect, had me across the first half marker about 7 minutes faster than my plan. So, I had unwittingly pushed too hard in the first half. I felt really good, though. But then came unexpected hills.

 You see, I’ve been running what we call the “city loop” here in NOLA. All my distance runs have been on this route. And in the first half of the marathon we were on portions of this familiar, flat route. I knew the last half of the marathon would be along the lake which is somewhere I hadn’t run before. But, because I had run the Half at the Louisiana Marathon in Baton Rouge a few weeks ago, and didn’t have a clue about where I was the whole time (which made the time fly), I figured leaving the second half of this race sort of a mystery would be beneficial. Well, the second half of this race had what was for me significant hillage. I was not ready. And because it was an out-and-back route, as I traversed the hills/bridges the first time, I knew that I’d have to come back over them a second time while even more tired than I already was. I started to get deflated mentally and physically. My pace started to wane. Next thing you know I’m taking walk breaks. Then I’m hearing myself moan and grunt, on the verge of tears. At this point I’m second-guessing everything I’ve done to prepare for this.

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On way to bridges
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On way back from bridges

 

The other thing I was insufficiently prepared for was the timing of my calorie and electrolyte intake. I really had minimal planning here. I just brought some electrolyte gel, and one pack of Hammer Gel. And I should have been consuming more of this during the first half. This mistake in combination with running too hard and the unexpected hills had me cramping in mile 22.

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barely holding on

This is where my beautiful, gym-rat-only-runs-because-I-do-and-we-are-a-team wife passed me. I had gone pale. I was queezy. I was cramping. My little world was crumbling. I wasn’t feeling triumphant at all. In mile 24 the 4:30 pace group caught and passed me. “Damn!” I thought. I started to pick it back up. I had gotten a lot of water in me in mile 23, and my cramping seemed to dissipate. I pushed through 24. And in 25 I was smelling the finish, and was able to gut out an eleven minute mile to finish. I nearly broke down at the finish, but I was literally too tired, and probably dehydrated, to cry. My family and friends were there waiting for me which helped my spirits in a profound way.

 

Even with all the mistakes and disappointment, I felt some pride in what I had accomplished. I took a minute to look back from where I had come. And, I looked over at my brother who was still crusty with salt, and proudly wearing his finisher medal having just finished his first half-marathon, 150 lbs lighter than he was just last year. My wife was beaming, and I was so proud of the way she gutted that race out. Our friends and family who made up Team LaJaunie were doting over us; giving us water, fruit, a helping hand off the ground, a folding chair to rest in, a jacket to keep warm in, spirited displays of pride and affection for the runners of the day. Simply amazing.  

Deuces!
Deuces!

 

Made it!
Made it!

I am humbled by this experience. I am proud of myself for doing something that most people think is “impossible”. But, I am chomping at the bit to get back to making me a better runner.

Football and Food

I have made clear how much Saints football means to me, and I have made public my opinion of our dysfunctional relationship with food here. I even went as far as calling it “lethal”, which to some boarders on heresy, or at a minimum hyperbole. Even if we call it something less morbid like “normal”, facts like this exist: heart disease number one killer in Louisiana; 10,282 people in Louisiana died of heart disease in 2010* (how many of us knew one of these people?…); 42% of our adults participate in 150+ min of aerobic physical activity per week, when the national average is 51%. One could argue that it is borderline unLouisianan to be healthy and active. But I would take offense to that argument.

I love the game of football. I started participating in this game as a toddler in the yard in some of my earliest memories. It is a part of me, as it is for many of us, especially here. Football is an amazing game. It teaches young men how to put in hard work as a team to achieve incremental successes (first downs, three-n-outs, tackles, turnovers, making a crucial block, etc), battles if you will, in an overall big picture framework of a game. This game is very much a microcosm of life. For in the future, these young men will be counted on to play a team role in the real world. They will be called on to work with others to achieve what cannot be achieved without help, a team. I think team sports of all sorts do this, and it is why I feel they are so popular. But football has a special place in my heart. I can still feel the morning due-laden grass of three-a-days stuck to my face as I do grass drills. I can still smell the locker room. I can still hear coaches not-so-subtly suggesting improvements to one’s effort. I see and feel the Friday night lights, here the crowd and announcer, taste the mouth piece…
Football has a firm grip on my soul. I still think of the guys I played with as brothers. And my brothers and I, along with chest-pounding machismo, participated in a “manly” form of nutrition: meat is good, more is better; protein, protein, protein. I get it.

And now that our days on the gridiron are gone, we too easily and willingly relent to being athletic has-beens. We reminisce about days gone by, about how good we used to be, how we were once athletes. We concede that age is catching up to us. Boy, if could have it back: our youth, our athletic prowess, our team. We can, big men, we can.

We can reshape our lives and be even better than we were in our “glory days”. But this time around, it’s not grass drills and and tackling dummies. This time around it’s plants and running that will shape us. In that order.

Let’s address food. All we have to change is everything. So what? Besides the taste, how’s the way we currently eat making you feel? What’s it doing for your athletic prowess? How is it helping with your stamina? Food is good, don’t get me wrong. It’s what we deem food that is the problem. What we call food really isn’t; it’s really just bliss point-centric matter. In other words, it is merely something we put in our mouths for pleasure, not nutrition. That is (as made evident by the overwhelming amount of disease in this country) not a sustainable relationship with what we call food. Food should be an asset, not a liability. I don’t think anyone can make a cogent argument with the stance that how and what we eat today is an asset to us as a people. Rekindling a relationship between ourselves and the natural human food that has served us well for eons would be an asset to us as a people. And when I say human food I mean PLANTS. We have stigmatized the very diet that can offer us a beautiful active healthy existence. A diet that makes us more human. It does not turn us into spindly, pale, weaklings (I’ll spare you a bicep-flexing selfie, but I’m no frail little boy).

So, to my BIG brothers. To my athletic has-been brothers. Let’s make a change. I have always loved the phrase “don’t talk about it, be about it”. Well, I have been “being about it” on this front for while. I have figured out some things that have worked for me, and I want to share. With not just BIG, former lineman, but everyone. My big dawgs out there I’m talking to you, but the things I talk about work for all (just ask my cute little button of a wife:)). I don’t expect you to get it done in a vacuum. And that’s why I’m here to help. Let’s get started.

First, I just want share what have been some staples in our kitchen in this transition. I think transitional foods are important while letting go of some of the deadly loves we currently have. It’s nice to have a few things on the menu that closely resemble some animal product-heavy classics.

I’ll share a few of my faves I had that were crucial to me in the beginning:

1. Veggie burgers: keep in mind that want the least processed veggie burger we can find, with most natural ingredients, and that you can make them yourself. The one I found was Amy’s brand California veggie burgers. They have them at the Rouse on Canal Blvd. in Thibodaux, so I’m sure they can be found in most places. I get Ezekiel hamburger buns, and those burgers. I put a mixture of good organic salsa (green mountain gringo in organic isle, my fave) and ripe avocado in a bowl, mash it together, and spread the mash on the bun. Lettuce (or kale), tom, onions, bell peppers, grilled ‘shrooms, whatever…slap it all together, BOOM! A burger that is satiating and healthy. Hell, eat two.

2. PB & J my way: First, do yourself a favor and introduce your mouth to Madjool dates. Take sprouted grain bread, smear natural raw almond butter, smash some pitted dates into said nut butter…Smash dat, Bruh! With a glass of cold 30 calorie unsweetened almond milk? Boy, Shut Up!

3. Delicious smoothies: I get the frozen mixed berries in the big bag. I use this kinda as my ice. I buy the ripe bananas (that means brown specs on the peel) if I can. Get em home, peel em, freeze em, also acts as ice. I use Sunwarrior raw blend plant based protein from the Carrot Patch here in Thibodaux, but I know this is a product Whole Foods carries. Play with different combinations of fruit (dates, strawberries, nanners, melons if you like, etc), raw oats, chia seeds…you get the picture. No need to sweeten, the fruit has plenty sugar. Add raw almond butter from time to time. Almond milk based of course. Nutra bullet is awesome. We have a ninja, but my brother and mom have bullets. We’ll have a Vitamix soon.

4. Breakfast: I always was a cold cereal guy. I loved Cheerios, corn flakes, and Special K…thinking I was eating healthy, I’d tear these up! But these are pas Bon (this means “no good” , for the non-coonasses). My fave now is merely a bowl of raw old fashioned oats, and a little Red Mills muesli. I put in a half-scoop of choc sunwarrior, mix while still dry. Add almond milk. Mix to the consistency you like. Top with walnut pieces, berries, grapes, nanners, etc.

5. Hale To The Kale: As I spoke about with Rich Roll, kale was one that took me a while to become friends with. Me and kale were kinda eyeing each other up, no one really made a move. Until I read Chef AJ’s book Unprocessed. She schooled me on “messaging” the kale, as well as a dressing that was like WHOA. Get her book for the exact recipe. I’ll give you my memory-committed version…
In a blender put about 8-10 ounces of water. Drop in and index finger-sized piece of ginger, juice of a lime, plenty red pepper flakes (I like shit hot), about 5-6 pitted Madjool dates, and a giant scoop of raw almond butter, blend.
Pour it over your chopped kale (use 3-4 bunches of kale. Also, I bought a sink liner-you know, the big square thing that fits in the sink to hold water and dishes?-just for messaging kale. Any huge vessel will work), and message your dressing quite vigorously into the kale. This will reduce the volume of the kale and it can be then transferred to a less gigantic vessel than what is needed durning the message phase. Once kale is dressed I add raw, unsalted pumpkin seeds. Each time I eat a bowl of it, I top it with broccoli and radish sprouts.

These are just few of my favorite eats. But these alone do not a healthy diet make. Having kale, and a colorful array of natural raw produce in large volumes is where the corner gets turned, in my book. The foods I mention here are a few examples of the new “comfort foods” we eat (along with delicious, fresh fruit) when kale, broccoli, bell peppers, carrots, and the like seem to leave you wanting something.

Here are a few cookbooks we used along the way: Engine 2 Diet; My Beef With Meat; Unprocessed.

I’m purposely vague about exact amounts of stuff. I want you to play with the ingredients in the kitchen. Use my framework to guide you but you “exactify” it yourself, then you own it.

Big men, little men, ex-lineman, cute little girls, huge-bellied defensive coordinators (yes I did), I got love for you all; let’s get some traction on the issues that are robbing us of matriarchs, patriarchs, aunts, uncles, parents, peers, H.O.F. NFL legends, and beloved pop icons alike. I got your back. Let’s get it!

WHO DAT!!! (I had to)

FREE JOSH LAJAUNIE

imageI am an unabashed Who Dat!! with a last name that has South Louisiana written all over it. I grew up on Bayou Lafourche in Thibodaux, Louisiana. I’m proud to be a bayou boy. I’m proud to sound like a coonass. And I am proud to be a graduate of our little Harvard on the Bayou, Nicholls State University. Growing up here has contributed to a lot of things in my life of which I am immensely proud. It has also bred into me a relationship with food, as it has with many of my bayou brethren, that I have come to realize is dysfunctional and even lethal. This relationship played a huge part in my achieving something I am not proud of: weighing over 400lbs. These are a few words about how I changed that.

When the New Orleans Saints achieved the impossible in February 2010 I was forever changed. I had a new image of “impossible” in my head. It was no longer something that was real, an obstruction, an obstacle; it became a mirage. I was forever changed because what I had been told all my life would never, could never happen (although,I, at the risk of sounding crazy throughout my life thought would and could) HAPPENED. It literally changed something in me. I wanted to know more about what it took to make it happen, so I read Coach Sean Payton’s book. It taught me a lot about not making excuses, identifying objectives, finding a pragmatic way to achieve said objectives, letting go of my normal, and forgetting about the “that’s just the way it is down here” mentality that taints this region’s logic at times.
At the time, I was patting myself on the back for getting my degree after having flunked out seven years earlier, and I was applying what Coach had taught me to that endeavor. In February of 2011, spring semester of my senior year at Nicholls State University, I began to worry about the way I looked. You see, I was seeing other seniors in suits and ties giving business presentations in front of auditoriums full of folks. It bothered me that in the fall I was going to be one of those presentation-giving seniors. Except with my shirt tucked in, unlike most of these other guys, my belly would be hanging over my belt and I’d be sweating from nerves and from being fat (not to mention I’m 10 years older than everyone, and felt kinda out of place anyway). How would I be received? I worried, but didn’t act.

That same February my lifelong friend, Jeff, called me out of the blue:

Jeff: “Hey, buddy!”
Me: “‘Sup, Jeffie?”
Jeff: “I’m getting fat, bra. I gotta do something. If I join Laroussa’s, would you come with me and help keep me on track?”
(Laroussa’s is a gym in Thibodaux. I had been a member there on and off since high school, mostly off.)
Me: “Keep you on track? Bra, I don’t even know how much I weigh these days. I got on B.J.’s [my wife]scale, and it said ‘error’. I gotta do something too!”
Jeff: “Well, I’m joining today and I’ll be at the gym at 5:00 in the a.m., you coming?”
Me: “Yes. I’ll go by after school and sign up. See you in the morning”

And just that quick I went from worrying to doing!
A couple of weeks later I was complaining to B.J. about her scale being a wuss with all this “error” junk (even the doctor’s scale only went to 350lbs., so my weight had no real starting point, no high water mark if you will). B.J., detecting my seriousness I suppose, brought a scale home one afternoon that went up to 500lbs.! That oughta do it, I thought.
I hopped on that scale, and for the first time in years I had a number: 397lbs! I looked at myself in the mirror, hands on the vanity, leaning in nose-to-nose with my reflection and said “What the [expletive]did you do? You fat piece of [expletive]! Fix this!” I literally said that to myself, I’ll never forget it. I had tears in my eyes, fear in my voice, but something told me this time would be different.
After two weeks of working out, going to school, meeting with classmates after-hours for group projects, and eating less I still weighed 397lbs. That’s a single fried oyster poboy (my favorite, by the way) away from 400lbs.!
I buried myself in school work. I did a spring semester, a summer semester, and a fall intercession class to finish my degree. I felt so proud!And by graduation in December I had lost 60lbs.
School had taught me a lot about pragmatism, preparation, and execution. And now I felt more equipped to follow what Coach had written so adamantly about in his book. I also had a great sense of just what was capable; my Saints had won a Super Bowl, and I, a flunked out ex-jock, had a degree! On top of that, I had lost 60lbs., and felt like I was making a real physical transformation, for the right reasons, the right way, for the first time.
The following spring, 2012, I wanted to run the CCC. Jeff, who was still hanging in there with me, decided he’d do it too. We began running. I modeled my stride after a Thibodaux man who ran with what I call a jiggle. It’s about as fast as a walk, but looks like a run, a light jog really. Jeff could walk next to me as I “ran”. I was just so afraid to hurt my now 340ish-pound self running and derail my progress. But, I really wanted to run. I would see people all up and down St. Charles Ave on the weekends running, touring the city on foot, I wanted that.
The Crescent City Classic came on April 23rd 2012 (I won’t even address BountyGate in detail, but you can imagine it was quite the motivator at the time…). That race was quite a feat for me. I got tired in mile three and started walking. I was cramping in mile five. And could hardly muster the energy to run across the finish line (as opposed to walking, like the ladies with baby strollers). I had finished it with a time of around 1:50:00. But, in getting ready for that race, I had gotten myself down to 320lbs.! That’s minus seventy-seven pounds! I felt like I was on a roll. And I felt that running had awakened the almost dead, smothered in fat, athlete inside me. The one I had turned my back on years ago right before flunking out of my first attempt at college.
I had a new thing now: RUNNING. Immediately after that race, I wanted to get better. I wanted to get faster. I wanted to get stronger. I wanted to get lighter. I made a new commitment to the running aspect of my workout routine now that I could see the possibilities.
Others jumped on board with ‘ol Josh and Jeffie after that race. My best friend/wife/girlfriend/podna/soulmate started to get her BEAST on by joining Pro Athletic Performance (PAP) in Houma, my brother Dustin started hitting Laroussa’s with me and Jeffrey in the a.m., and even my heavy-drinking, chain-smoking lil Irish podna Pat jumped on the bandwagon with us. I wanted us to all run the CCC come 2013. It was a hard-sell at first but I wound up closing the deal by just registering everyone. (Although, Jeff, who was starting a new career, and had his first baby on the way, had fallen off of the regular Laroussa’s meetings, my brother had stepped in and started BEASTing out with me. Who, by the way, is down about 140lbs to date)This time I had a goal: run this CCC in less than an hour. Guess what?…DID IT! BOOM! My time was 00:59:56! WHAAAT!?! And guess who else ran it that year, in a very similar time?…Coach Sean Payton! It felt good to know I had shared the course with that man.
After the CCC this time, I felt even better. I had actually run the whole thing first of all, and secondly, I had done it in under an hour. Again, blurring the lines between possible and impossible. Now it was time to go next-level. This is when I began to seek out people who have achieved in this realm, read about how they’d done it, and do my best to implement their strategies.
After a very fun and exciting Mardi Gras season, B.J. and I decided to go “clean”. This is something she had read about. I wasn’t really interested in it; I figured I could just eat “healthily” and keep achieving my goals, as I had in the two years prior. Although I had stagnated at around 285lbs. by that Mardi Gras, I still felt good about myself. I mean, I had lost 112lbs. Who can say they lost 112lbs? Not many. But, I went in with her nonetheless. We are a team, after all. After our initial pantry cleansing and subsequent “clean”grocery-run, I was prepping some of our new food and had a few minutes to spare. I turned on my Apple TV, pulled up my Netflix account, and started looking for documentaries about the subject of nutrition. I came across a documentary called “Fat Sick and Nearly Dead”. I had heard about this documentary, but had dismissed it as some things I’d never do; I like drinking and and eating NOLA-style too much. But, since I was doing this “clean” thing I figured let’s see what it’s about at least. Well, that was it. This dude’s story was a lot like mine. And he broke it down in a way I had never ever heard before. And his fact-based approach really appealed to that pragmatic college graduate that lives in my head now. So, I kept watching documentaries that Netflix suggested to me based on having watched “Fat Sick and Nearly Dead”. One of these suggested documentaries was “Forks Over Knives”. Next-level started to crystallize. I began to rethink the way I was eating, what I, and the rest of America, called “healthy”. This is where I learned about Dr. T. Colin Campbell PhD; “The China Study”; Dr. Caldwell Esselstyn Jr. MD, and his son, a retired professional triathlete that is now a firefighter, Rip Esselstyn. 
Once I learned of Rip, I said to myself “who else is a beast like I want to be, and do they eat like him?”. The answers were: Rich Roll, Scott Jurek, and Brenden Brazier to name a few, and YES they eat like him. From reading their books I heard the same things over and over: no meat, no dairy, here’s why, here’s how to stop.
Following what I learned has changed my life. I began worrying less about my weight, and more about optimal health and fitness. (And as a side note, this is what is wrong with our country. I could go on a whole tangent about that alone; healthcare costs, economy, unemployment, dependence on foreign oil, US bonds on the brink of default, etc…all goes back to us, as a whole, being very very very unhealthy because stuff tastes, and feels good. And because we feel entitled to be unhealthy because we’re Americans and have this technology to fix us after the fact, or because “oh well, it’s hereditary, gonna get sick no matter what so why not just live it up”. Our hubris and ignorance has caught up to us, really. What would the founders of the country think of us?).
Now, all that said, most people may not be interested in the running thing as much as me, I get it. But there was another book I read that kinda hit on everything. It was an awesome, frankly put, informational book: “Skinny Bastard”. These two ladies that wrote this book have put everything in one place, in one book; why is plant based the way to go, why modern society is reluctant or downright defiant, how Big Agribusiness has manipulated government to keep facts away from the public, and how to implement it into your life (grocery list, meal plan, recipes, etc.).
I also realize this way of life is a drastic departure from our “norm”, but 1.) forget the “norm” (how’s that working for us?) 2.) so is the way of life, or lack there of, after open heart surgery, cancer, diabetes, or erectile dysfunction.

I want to talk about it more. I want to be a voice, an example of the worst offender fixing the wrong. I want to share my story…

-Here is a link to a feature story/testimonial I did for the running app I use-

I look forward to spreading the word about how doable and necessary it is for us to do adopt a naturally human lifestyle. Which, I believe is eating plants to fuel physical excursion.

Some Netflix Faves:

FORKS OVER KNIVE
FOOD MATTERS
HUNGRY FOR CHANGE
FRANKENSTEER
FAT, SICK, AND NEARLY DEAD
KILLER AT LARGE

Must-read books:

PREVENT AND REVERSE HEART DISEASE, DR. CALDWELL ESSELSTYN
THE CHINA STUDY, DR. T. COLIN CAMPBELL
FINDING ULTRA, RICH ROLL
BORN TO RUN, CHRISTOPHER MCDOUGALL
EAT & RUN, SCOTT JUREK

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