In a weird head-space at the moment…

I’ve been battling my weight literally my entire life…battling it WRONG…but battling it…and of course, loosing.

On this journey, this time, I’ve learned how to do it…RIGHT…and I’ve done it.

It boils down to this…

I don’t need to lose weight anymore.


I don’t need to lose weight anymore.

Now, basically, I’m optimizing my body composition. Adding muscle, reducing body fat, leaning out.

It’s a different process. Sort of. Still means “eat right, work hard”…it’s just what “right” and “hard” mean are shifting. Last week my trainer had to tell me to eat more…

Eat more…strange concept…When I was fat, and diabetic, food WAS the enemy…neither of those are the case anymore. Note…ya still can’t eat crap.

Weighed in this morning…in the last week I worked harder than ever, I added around 3 pounds of muscle, lost more than that in fat..and am sitting at 17.2% body-fat. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been…even when I was in my “bullet-proof 20’s” and worked construction.

Numbers say 6 pounds of fat left to lean out, to reach an athletic 15% body fat.

These are numbers I’ve NEVER been…

Gotta go buy more clothes…got nothing left that fits. Again.

If you, the reader, gets ANY take-away from my entire struggle…it’s that self care (and learning HOW…our education was outright WRONG) should be your number one goal…and YOU are 100% in control of this process.

If you OWN it…at whatever level you can achieve…doing ALL you can EVERY day…well, it works. Every time.

I’m not done by any means. This is a lifetime pursuit, and I’ve a surgery scheduled to deal with the loose skin ya end up with from a better than 60″ belly…


I don’t need to lose weight anymore…

I’m not sure I understand that just yet…

The hardest battle you will ever fight…is with yourself.

I win.

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

I’ll see you on the road.

Daniel Meyer

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Listen, and Understand!

“Listen, and understand! That Terminator is out there! It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop… ever, until you are dead!”
–Kyle Reese (The Terminator 1984)

Well…okay…maybe it’s not QUITE that dramatic…but perhaps it should be. The fictional “Terminator” managed to kill 21 (according to the ‘net) before getting squashed in a conveniently configured Terminator squishing device.

The thing I’m talking about today will kill around 1,100 people in the US, just today…and EVERY day…and it’s NOT fictional.

Take a look at this graph. Bear with me here…let’s say the graph itself represents your body’s dealing with a substance that is beneficial if your exposure is kept to a level that your RESPONSE remains in the blue band (normal range). If you are over-exposed to this substance your response becomes “dealing with a toxin” and the chart goes outside the blue band.

Outside that normal range, the substance AND your response to at become increasingly toxic. So toxic in fact, that if you continue to be exposed to this level of the substance over time, your ability to endure even normal exposures becomes weaker and you begin to suffer from things like kidney failure, nerve damage, blindness, lymphedema, heart disease, dementia, and a host of other dire side effects. Within a short time, if left untreated, this condition is lethal. Even when diagnosed AND treated, if you are still over-exposed, the condition is STILL lethal…it just takes a little longer.

The cart above is real, and that massive spike is the rise in glucose from “exposure”. Effects include ramping up the pancreas to “deep fat fry” levels of insulin production, which will…burn it out even whilst these high levels train your healthy cells for insulin resistance. Note both the high glucose level, AND the body’s response of a high insulin level are both harmful, even in otherwise healthy individuals. NOT a good thing.

So what is this “exposure”? Rat poison? Chemicals in water? Late night TV commercials? If it was any of those we’d ban it and hunt down and prosecute the folks marketing it to us.

But we won’t.

See that spike “out of the blue”? That’s the body’s response to a single bowl of breakfast cereal…that thing we’ve been taught all our lives is a staple and HEALTHY. Liver processing the sugar as a toxin, pancreas ramped up. Fat cells greedily gobbling up calories and growing, even while healthy cells are trained to be glucose resistant and are starving.

Breakfast cereal.

I can’t even tell you which one, as they’d probably sue me into oblivion for calling their extraordinarily high-profit product “poison”. Yeah, well. Anything high carb/sugar, low fiber? Sodas. Cereals. Breads. All the same…and that’s approaching 70% of the average diet. For many people it’s FAR more.

The American diet is lethal. But it’s DAMN profitable.

YOU…and only you…can fix it. This is a Terminator you can squash. It’s not even complicated. Note that I didn’t say it was easy. We are addicted to these foods, and the marketing is absolutely ruthless.

It takes time. Get started today.

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

I’ll see you on the road.

Daniel Meyer

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Viking Cycle Perforated Gloves–A Review

This spring Viking Cycle provided me with a couple of products to review.

First up is a pair of summer gloves to review. Those of you that have been following me know I go through a LOT of gloves (at least a pair a season, often TWO pairs…and Texas has a lot of seasons!) and am fairly picky about the fit and quality of them.

As a lifetime daily commuter and also a distance rider one lesson is that minor irritations add up to big problems on the road. Make sure your gear and your machine suit you.

Critical things with gloves include fit and cut.

Fit means fingers are the correct length and hug the hand. Tight without restricting.

Cut is how the gloves are sewn/structured. With a tight glove on, and your hand at rest, your fingers should be curved more or less in the same manner as your hand at rest with no glove. If they are not, the glove itself will be fatiguing just in maintaining your grip on your handlebars.

For a spring/summer I chose a perforated glove. I would classify the Viking glove as a medium weight, good in the heat and also in a variety of lower temperatures. I expect it would be comfortable down to about 40 degrees for short duration, 50 degrees indefinitely. In the Texas climate this is a “early spring all the way to late fall” glove.

I am quite happy with these gloves. I generally get gloves tight and let them “work in” to a perfect fit, and the size of these is as expected.

The cut is quite good, fitting finger length/palm and hand curve/orientation nicely. The palms are slightly padded and the knuckles are lightly armored. They are very comfortable.

The stitching is excellent and they are well made. They are holding up well to my normal abuse with no leather damage or loose stitching. The Velcro wrist closures are sturdy and well attached.

I can easily fetch my wallet, fish out a credit card, key digits on a gas pump/etc without removing them. Key for me on a distance run.

Fingertip “touch-screen” coating.

The only issue I’ve noted is the first two fingertips on each hand have a “touch-screen” coating. That is beginning to slightly peel. This is just the coating, the fingertip underneath is still solid. The touch coating still works, though this is not a feature I depend on as I use a motorcycle-specific GPS and the touch screen is calibrated for gloved hands.

Given the quality and features of these gloves at their bargain price-point and they are an excellent value. They cost around 30% less than my usual gloves and are easily as comfortable and durable. I will use these again.

These are the particular model glove I reviewed: (linky)

Other gloves available at Viking: (linky)

They have jackets and other gear as well at what seems a good price-point.

Viking also markets in the UK and “Down Under” so if you’re there, hit up your local sites:
Viking AU
Viking UK

Full disclaimer: Viking provided these gloves to me for review.
Full full disclaimer: If I didn’t like them I wouldn’t say I do…and I DO like them.

I’ll see you on the road,
Daniel Meyer

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Tempus Fugit

A long time ago…

Folks think I’m kidding when I say I’ve not been this low of a weight or body-fat % in my adult life…

Not kidding though. I’m that guy with hair on the right…and 16 or 17 years old in this pic…that’s nearly 40 years ago!

And today, I’ve got more muscle, am in better physical shape, have more endurance, and am wearing smaller clothes than in this pic…

Probably got more hair now too…it’s just migrated off the top of my head 🙂 …and you’re welcome for that visual.

I’m still wondering where the time went…

I’m around 240 in that pic…wearing 40″ jeans or so…

I’ll see you on the road.

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

Daniel Meyer

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The Impossible Feat

Listen hard, listen well.
I have a story to tell.
This is not the beginning though…
…no…not the beginning at all…
…see, this story begins in Hell.

The “unofficial” scale… which normally agrees with the “official” one to any significant standard… says 225 lbs this morning.

That’s -202 for those keeping score.

I’m well under 20% body-fat, I’ve idealized every health marker, and sitting squarely in the “fit” category.

It’s not the end though. It took me decades to learn that fitness and self-care, mental and physical, wasn’t “selfish” or a luxury. The disciplines involved serve you well in all aspects of life, and the pursuit of them is not optional.

I started this journey with a goal weight. I don’t have one anymore, rather, I have a target fitness level. Slacking off ain’t in the cards.

Some low-points along the way (some paraphrased, but not as much as you’d think):
–My 1st doctor (scowls at my 427 pound weight): “Why are you even here?”
–A popular “big box” health club (as I’m attempting to sign up): “Oh hell no. You’ll have to bring certification from your doctor that you’re allowed to exercise!” (they wouldn’t even give me a tour)
–My 1st doctor: *laughs*
–My 2nd doctor (on being asked to help me lose 200 pounds): “Oooo. Lofty goal. Unreasonable though. Let’s try to lose, say, 20 pounds instead?”
–My endocrinologist (when asked what to do to get off some of these expensive drugs): *laughs*
–My health insurance: “No, we’re not paying for anything that might help the actual problem. Have some more drugs!”
–My employer: “Biometric screenings! Lifestyle surcharges! You fat fuck! You’ll NEVER meet THIS standard. Have a cookie! Pizza? Maybe a doughnut? Check out our new vending machine, it serves ICE CREAM!”
–A family member not seen in a while: “You’ve lost weight! OMG you have cancer!”
–The medical studies: “Only one in a million will try it. Only 10% of those will succeed.”

There’ve been highlights too:
–My trainers (when I asked for help): “Yeah, bring it! If you’re willing to work, we can do that!”
–Me (finally realizing it’s mostly a head game and I HAD CONTROL of it): “Holy shit!”
–My eye doctor (on learning I’d put my diabetes in remission): “Amazing. In 35 years of practice I’ve never seen it happen.”
–My wife (on seeing my progress): “Maybe I can do that…” *embarks on her own transformation journey*
–Me: *tosses a whole wardrobe of clothes because everything…all of it…is far too big*
–Random coworker: “You look damn good!”
–My current doctor: “Fantastic!” *fist-bump*
–The wife (raises eyebrow at me): “Growwwlllll!”

If I had to pick one thing I’ve learned in this journey, it’s this:
I can tackle absolutely anything I set my mind to.

…and guess what? You can too!

Bring it!

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

I’ll see you on the road.
Daniel Meyer

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Instinct, Art, and Intellect

[begin time dilation]

“Huh Wut?” says the intellect.

“Oh hey!” says the hind-brain. Some also call this ‘instinct’ or ‘the id’. “I just dropped her down TWO gears, aimed us HARD left more or less at that concrete median wall, and twisted the throttle to the stop.”

“Uhhh. Thanks?” says the intellect. I’ve mentioned this before, but you’d REALLY better know what you’re about if you order up full throttle on a Valk.

“Well, shit was happening,” says the hind-brain by way of an explanation. “I’ve bought you perhaps 0.84 seconds of life. Use it wisely.”

The intellect is finally up to speed. “Oh, BRING IT ON!” I’d have preferred a quiet commute, but challenges, once issued, don’t phase me in the slightest.

This would have been a great time to verbalize an “Oh shit!” or such, but there wasn’t any time for those things.

Hard RIGHT…tires squalling, and now on the left shoulder, inches from the wall, and beside a semi trailer. I heard crunching noises behind me.

…and there was a dead car directly in my path on the shoulder. Still too fast to stop and unwilling to try due to the sounds of carnage behind me, the intellect determined the only chance was to get past the semi-cab before we ate the back end of the car. What sucked was that full throttle and down two gears…wasn’t gonna be enough.

Needed another downshift, but there wasn’t time for that. Or to think about that. Or to even ponder how much this was gonna hurt.

And some “art” kicked in.

I goosed it. For those unaware, that’s the act of feathering the clutch to give the beast even more torque at the back wheel without downshifting.

It’s not good on clutches. It’s seldom needed on a Valk.

We squeaked out into free, but limited space in front of the truck, and cleared the dead car by inches at least. Other maneuvers were required at that point to avoid other traffic that was still shutting down, and to not get squished by the (now behind me) semi, but they were much less extreme. We had the luxury of several seconds this time.

“AND WE LIVE TO FIGHT ANOTHER DAY!!” screams the hind-brain.

“Fukin’ A!” says the intellect. That was the best it could come up with at the moment. The adrenaline was late to the party but WAS starting to kick in. “GAHHHHH!”

[end time dilation]

Reconstruction after the fact…

80 mph traffic. I was in the middle left lane (4 lanes). Traffic was shutting down and fast. Dallas freeways are prone to that. No problem, I always leave plenty of room.

Problem is…today there are lots of folks not paying the slightest attention. Most of them seem to be directly behind me.

At some point I noted that THREE cars behind me weren’t slowing down. The left lane, my lane, and the car nearly beside me in the middle right lane. His lane was stopping faster and he was about to rear-end another car. He was moving hard left and taking my lane to try to avoid that.

Kind of annoying, that. Two objects, same space, same time…yanno?

But that’s when the hind-brain…always aware of these sorts of things…took over and I found myself pointed at a concrete wall.

So…middle right car comes into my vacated space in the middle left, and promptly buries his nose under the DOT bumper of the semi that had been in front of me. Had I stayed where I was, I’d have found myself smashed into pulp and crammed under a semi.

The news would no-doubt note whether or not I was wearing a helmet.

I had already left that scene, crossed the left lane for the shoulder, barely clearing the semi in front of me in the left lane, who was then promptly rear ended by the car behind HIM (as I squeaked between). By then I was playing with the fractions of a second still left to get in front of him and dodge the dead car on the shoulder…which was then promptly rear-ended by yet another car that I have NO clue where it came from.

It’s a dance…and apparently nobody but me could hear the music.

Instinct. Art. Intellect. It’s a little of all, and perhaps even a little bit of luck (I happen to believe we make our own luck).

…and I live to fight another day (a good ride) AND I can use the machine again (a GREAT ride).

Y’all get with the damn beat, will ya?

I’ll see you on the road.

Daniel Meyer

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I did what to the who now?

I’m starting down the stairs from the forth floor.

“Excuse me…” says a coworker from the hall. This is a lady that I’ve seen around, but don’t work with (different department). A long timer, like me, but we don’t know each other though I’m certain we’ve spoken on occasion.

I stopped, “Yes?”

“You did it.”

Uh oh…I froze…wondering exactly what I’d done this time. See, I do high end production workflows…and they’re finicky and temperamental and they’ve just plain gotta WORK…but the only people that never screw anything up are the ones that don’t do anything. So, yeah. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that “I did it.”

I’m mentally cataloging my more recent projects trying to figure out what, if I messed something up, could impact somebody in an administrative department (vs production).

I was drawing a blank. I chuckled, “It wouldn’t surprise me. But what have I done this time?”

She just waves up and down at me. “This. You. You’ve done you. It’s amazing. You look good. Damn good.”

I blinked, trying to process the statement in a “non-work” context. Family and friends say such things. I guess I’m not entirely sure I’ve believed them. For a stranger to say it? It took me a second.

When I DID process it, The Fat Man in the Mirror had a ready denial. For a change I handily shut him down. It’s getting easier.

“Thank you!”

Not a big deal…but it made my day.

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

I’ll see you on the road.

Daniel Meyer

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So…yeah…the next part of my fitness journey involves a whole lot of pain, a wheelbarrow full of money, some risk, and weeks of no physical activity…

I debated even posting regarding it…but I’ve been pretty serious about sharing my journey so far…with some positive effects…I think…

But this next step…is not a minor thing on any front…

It’s also…sort of…optional. And personal. And generating a big bunch of mixed thoughts and not a minor amount of anxiety to go with it.

We’re talking excess skin removal…I’m approaching 15% body fat…that’s athletic/ideal (10% is the lowest “healthy/fit/athletic” folks would want to go, the body builders will, for a show, cut down to less…but even they don’t hold that).

So, as I said, 15% is the goal…and I’m all but there.

That leaves me with a significant physical problem of the loose skin…hard to describe (and I ain’t posting pics!), but understand I could not FASTEN 60″ slacks, even UNDER the “dunlop”…yanno…that belly over the belt was even bigger than 60”.

And now I’m in 35’s (with NO dunlop). TWO HUNDRED POUNDS of fat gone…

So, perhaps 30 pounds of skin that ain’t going away..it’s possibly more. It causes chafing, some movement restriction, some pain, hygiene concerns, and interferes a bit in my love life…these ARE important things…

And it won’t get better over time. It would be a lifetime issue…

So, there’s surgery that will remove it…it’s not a minor thing due to the nature and degree and location of my issue.

It’s not in any way covered by medical insurance, costs about what a solid new sedan would cost, and results in 3 weeks off work, a minimum 6 weeks more of restricted physical activity, and months to “normal”…a lifetime for me…though I’ve dealt with similar with shoulder injuries.

…and I could survive without doing it…it’s not “acute” treatment…it’s “quality of life”…

And I feel guilty about it…I’ve seldom gone to docs unless to treat something “wrong”…usually life-threatening”. Heck, often I didn’t even go THEN…

And here I’m considering the risk, time off, and dropping a load of coin on something that’s optional in the brutal end analysis.

Can I afford it? Not really…but I can manage it…it’s money. I can make more. That’s NOT a nonchalant attitude. You burn your life for this crap. What’s it for anyway?

Is it worth the risk? It’s a serious surgery…the details are utterly terrifying…but it IS common…and I don’t select “questionable” providers for such a thing…some of the best in the world are within miles of me.

The time off? I’m owed it. The many more weeks of limited physical activity and not being able to address my own projects and obligations…that’s a tough one. The world piles on whether you’re ready or not…and cares not a WHIT why you’re not dealing with it. It will utterly and completely steamroll you and not even look back.

But I suppose in the end analysis all that stuff will be waiting for me later as well as sooner so…

The pain? Man…I dunno. I’ve had some pain I wouldn’t wish on anybody…and survived. Thrived even. And the nightmares aren’t too bad…too often. But to volunteer for it…for something that’s an option?

Is it actually optional?

Part of me…that fat man in the mirror…says surgery’s silly. Just live with the problem…man up. Muscle through. Cope. It’s penance anyway…and that I deserve…it’s just plain selfish. That fat man in the mirror also scoffs..Hell, you’re in your fifties anyway. Why bother? It’s a cheat. An easy way. A failure.

Part of me says, hell, I’ve come THIS far…Fight. Everything you’ve got.

…and somewhere deep down understands there’s no other action I can take that would fix it. No diet. No supplement. No magic cream. No amount of willpower. There is literally nothing I can do, short OR long term, other than the surgery to fix this issue.

But there are others to think about.

Mixed thoughts. Anxiety. Weird stuff for me. I’ve learned over the years just to make a decision and take action…even if it’s wrong at least you’re acting. If you don’t decide…usually the decision gets made for you anyway. Default decisions never have ideal outcomes.

Penance? Selfish? Or a reasonable approach to fixing my very real problem (even though I caused it)? I suppose I faced similar issues regarding the shoulders, but that was facing a lifetime disability…

…but I suppose I am facing the same thing now. At least the shoulders I EARNED with hard work. No penance needed there. Surely I deserved THAT fix.

That’s the fat man in the mirror talking again.

Heh…rhetorical questions I suppose. Only I can answer them ultimately…but I wish they’d let me sleep…and I do value the discussion.

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

I’ll see you on the road.

Daniel Meyer

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Broke 20%

Weigh-in at my trainer’s yesterday…

I’ve broken the 20% body fat barrier. This is a number I’ve never been before…and for those of you keeping track…puts me in the “normal/fit” category…especially for an old fart…

Something I’ve never been before…

Not bad for an ex-427 pound, ex-raging-diabetic, old guy, huh?

15% coming soon!

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

I’ll see you on the road.
Daniel Meyer

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The 35 inch waist…and the Fat Man in the Mirror

The 36’s…

A surprising difficulty about a physical transformation is, well, clothing.

Can’t wear what I had…me AND the wife…at the same time…could fit in some of it, and while that might be fun…that really won’t do for work attire.

Hesitant to buy new, as I’m still in the process and clothes can be expensive. Whatever size I’d get I probably wouldn’t need for very long.

I’d sort of compromised…buying thrift store jeans. I was surprised at the great selection in the smaller sizes…but I guess I shouldn’t have been. Most folks are getting bigger, not smaller.

Y’all may remember there was a time I couldn’t fasten a 60″ pair of slacks. SIXTY…jeans I couldn’t wear at all…nobody made ’em in my size anymore.

And then I went to work.

Eventually got into 58’s. I could wear JEANS again! Then 56’s. 54’s. 50’s. Then 40’s. I was seriously surprised when I could wear a 38.

And then I had a 36″ pair, grabbed accidentally from the thrift store. Seems like suddenly they fit, and were even starting to get loose.

I hadn’t worn a 36″ as an adult…ever.

But the Fat Man in the Mirror spoke up. “They’re thrift store jeans! Probably mis-sized! They were too big for 36’s so somebody dumped ’em! That’s the only reason you could wear them. Must be!”

Still…I wore the jeans and smiled that something actually fit.

Then, a couple weeks ago I tore a knee out of them. Bummer. But they’d been getting loose anyway. Maybe time for 35’s?

Surely not. That’d be getting close to “fit”…and I’m not that. I don’t expect to get much smaller than that, even when “fit” as there are some hip-bones and a bit of muscle in there.

But in a fit of optimism I said “screw it” and ordered a NEW pair of 35’s from my favorite jeans company, Diamond Gusset.

When the box arrived I opened it and almost sent them back without trying them on.

It’s a hard thing to explain…the “heft” of the new pair of jeans…compared to what I used to have to wear…I’d guess there’s 3-4 times as much material in a 58″ pair of jeans as there is in a 35″…it’s not just waist. The material in the butt, thighs, etc really add up.

And these were so light…and small…the Fat Man in the Mirror was immediately scornful, loud and clear. “You’ll never get in these. Ever. Stupid to spend money on those. Look how small they are! Forget it.”

And I listened. And it stung. I tossed the still folded jeans in the top of the closet and walked away.

Perhaps someday.

Maybe tomorrow I could check the thrift store…find some 38’s or 40’s…



I’m proud to say…it didn’t take long…just a couple minutes…

I’m still learning. Always will be I expect. The head game has been the most difficult part of this journey and it is NOT my friend in this. I’ve constantly had to overcome self-imposed limitations. Every damn day in fact…

And that damn Fat Man in the Mirror…

…is in my head.

To hell with him.

I strode back in the bedroom, grabbed the jeans off the shelf in the closet…and put them on.

I will admit…they are tight…the fat around the thighs, hips, and belly is the first to pile on and the last to come off…

But slowly. Surely. Inexorably. Come off it has. There’s still more to do…but I keep forgetting…setbacks and all…that I AM doing it.

The jeans are tight…but they fit. No problem buttoning or zipping them up.


They fit.

“Holy shit!”

And then there’s the wife..gotta love her…who saunters by, gives me the look, and comments, “Mmmm. ‘dat butt!”

The Fat Man in the Mirror grudgingly agreed with her.

I’m starting to believe…maybe he and I will come to terms someday.

You can read more about my fitness journey here.

I’ll see you on the road.

Daniel Meyer

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