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Eating out can be challenging. Even in places with good healthy choices on the menu, those choices can sometimes be pretty boring (salad, chicken and broccoli, etc.), and eating out always feels like a “special occasion” when one should be able to splurge a little, even if you eat out once a week like I think most families do. You go in with good intentions, and then look over the menu and think “Man, if I have another piece of skinless chicken breast I may weep openly. Maybe a piece of fish…oh look, they have fish and chips.” And then you eat a nice 1500 calorie meal, which, at least in my case, leads to thinking “Well, I already screwed up, might as well go whole hog” and you drink a bunch of beer and a fantastic dessert.

If it really is a “special occasion” (your birthday, wife got a big raise at work, your eldest son came out of the closet), then a little splurge is fine, but you can’t do it very frequently, which is a problem for me ’cause I do so love me some splurgin’. So whaddaya do if you find yourself at a Red Robin and are trying to steer away from a double cheeseburger with guacamole, bacon, and a fried egg?

What I like to do is try and pick something that’s going to provide me with a ton of protein. So even if I end up getting a 1000 calorie meal, I might get 70 grams of protein from it, which is pretty stellar. A good chicken sandwich with some awesome flavors might get you close to that. Then the trick is the side dishes; maybe don’t go with regular french fries, but you could rock some sweet potato fries instead. Slightly fewer calories and a ton more micronutrients and fiber.

Tonight we met my parents and my sister and her family for dinner at a local Mexican restaurant, and I managed to steer away from the “Sampler platter” (two plates of awesomeness that have to total at least 2000 calories) and got fajitas instead, with chicken, beef, and shrimp. Staggering amounts of protein. Did I also eat chips with huge loads of salsa on them? I did. Did I eat beans and rice? Of course. Was it probably 1500 calories of awesome? Perhaps, but lunch was just some chicken and veggies, and I did swim another 1500 yards today, so I think it’s a wash.

Per uzh*, I’ve banged out my 30 chins and pushups, and need to blast through some planks before heading to bed. My back feels a ton better so I should be able to do my OHP and Squat workout tomorrow, and maybe even get a short run in, time permitting.

*“Usual,” duh.

It occurred to me that writing these things first thing in the morning and talking about the previous day is kinda dumb; it’s better for me to post them in the evening and talk about that day, so that’s what I’ma be doin’ from here on out. I also realized that links aren’t getting posted to Facebook and Twitter, so I’m fixing that; if this is the first post you see, you might wanna go back to the first day of this week and, you know, catch up. ‘Cause it’s getting real around here.

We had a last minute lunchtime meeting at the office today so I wasn’t entirely sure if I’d be able to get over to the Y for my usual swim, but that bad boy let out a few minutes after noon and I sprinted for the door. Still a bit pressed for time, I decided to just swim until I either reached 1500 yards (60 lengths of the short course pool) or started to drown.

Something that bit me in the ass a little bit during my International-distance (aka Olympic) triathlon from last August was the fact that I always breathe out of the left side when I swim. What I hadn’t anticipated was that we were going clockwise around the 1500 meter course, which meant that I couldn’t see the buoys I was meant to be passing unless I stopped to pick my head up and glance over to that side. It wasn’t a fatal issue (not nearly as badly as the current that added 10 minutes to my usual 1500m time, or the fact that I’d been eating horribly in the week prior which bit me hard while biking through the hills of northeast Maryland), but a bit concerning. I’d read of folks having issues during a swim because the waves came from one side and they couldn’t breathe to that side without inhaling water, which would be really bad if it happened to me and I wasn’t trained to breathe to the other side at all. Plus, it’s just good swimming form to breathe every 3 or 5 (or even 7) strokes because it helps keep your stroke more ambidextrous.

So I decided that the fall and winter I’d teach myself to breathe to both sides. Actually, the hard part wasn’t learning to breathe to the right; after getting used to rotating properly to that side (I have a tendency to under-rotate anyway, so this was a good thing to get used to), I can swim more or less endlessly breathing to just one side or the other. The part that was killing me was breathing 33% fewer times over a given distance, which reduced the oxygen available, and increased the carbon dioxide I had to get rid of. At first I could barely swim one length of the pool before having to switch back to breathing every two strokes.

When I first began training myself to swim freestyle in 2013 (after completing a couple of triathlons using nothing but breast stroke), I found a program online called “Zero to 1650 in 6 Weeks” (a “swimmer’s mile” is 1650 yards, or roughly 1500 meters). It aims to take someone who can barely swim 100 yards to being able to swim that full mile, swimming just three times a week. I could only allocate 2 swims a week, so I spread it out over 9 weeks, but it worked a treat. I went from being able to barely swim 4 lengths of the pool, to handling a full 66-length mile in under 40 minutes. After struggling to add bilateral breathing to my regular workouts, I figured I’d go back to the 0-to-1650 well.

It worked fantastically, even fast than six weeks. After completing the 1000 yard week, I found I had solved the problem; it was just a matter of setting a reasonable pace, and not stopping. The next trick is going to be improving my speed. While one of my goals is completing an Ironman (which starts with a 2.4 mile swim), my preferred distance will always be sprint races, because you can bang them out in a morning and be home in time for brunch, and the training requirements are much more reasonable. The guys who are competitive at the sprint distance can swim a true half-mile in under 10 minutes; it takes me closer to 18. This is obviously somewhere I can improve a great deal. (The same of course goes for my cycling and running, but swimming is where I’m least comfortable).

Today I managed 1500 yards in a bit over 31 minutes. Next week I’ll probably work on some speed drills to see if I can keep breathing every three strokes will pushing hard with good form.

Yesterday’s activities: 30 chins, 30 pushups, about 3 minutes of planks throughout the day.
Today’s activities: 1500 yards swim, 30 chins, 30 pushups, about 2.5 minutes of planks.

What I eated yesterday: I polished off a leftover pesto pork chop for lunch, with vegetables; dinner was eggs, ham, turkey bacon, and a nice bed of spinach. I was trying to avoid carbs but couldn’t resist a few crescent rolls.
And today: Lunch was the last 1.5 pork chops, with some broccoli. For dinner, Sarah threw a big pork roast in the crock pot with apples and sweet potatoes, and there were green beans as well. (The kids also had mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce, I couldn’t resist having a little of that as well.)

Today’s weight: 230 (-1)

It wouldn’t be a fitness program without setbacks; today’s snow is going to make it impossible to either run or bike, so it’ll be a good lifting session followed by…well, that’s about it. I had a little difficulty with diet last night; had a solid chicken dinner and then there were leftover Rice Krispy Treats and I found some fritos, and we made pesto for tonight’s dinner that turned out to be really good on leftover cheesy toast from a weekend party. All in all I was probably not far off 2000 calories for the day anyway, though I didn’t measure carefully as I should’ve, and I did get a good 1500 yards in the pool so that probably burned a few hundred calories. Simply not eating until 1pm does wonders for one’s caloric intake, of course.

About that pesto: turns out to be delightfully easy to make in a food processor. A panload of basil, some cheese, olive oil, pine nuts, salt and pepper. Hella yum, and aside from the little bit of oil and nuts, largely calorie-free flava. I’m looking forward to piling it on pork tonight and inhaling it.

Yesterday’s workout: 1500 yards freestyle swim in about 32 minutes, along with 30 chins and 30 pushups with my legs elevated. Didn’t do any plank work ’cause I’m a lazy git. Planned for today: deadlifts and bench presses. I’ll fill you in tomorrow on how that went, and whether I managed to not eat like a punk.

I’m a day late (and, per usual, a dollar short) again, without the excuse of extreme illness, but this is a topic so important that it took an extra day. Pray forgive.

I was texting some of the folks in my fantasy league yesterday, making fun of some of the other folks in my fantasy league for bad draft strategies (Jesus Montero? Really?), when one of us dropped the strange phrase, “A was man said…if they wanna live in a donut, let ’em live in a donut!” I replied “Dammit, now I want a donut,” and was immediately asked, “What kind of donut would you live in?”

I was struck dumb. A more important question had never been posed to me, and I include “Matthew, do you take this woman to be your wife?” in that statement. What kind of donut would live in? I couldn’t answer right away, because it’s all complicated, and whatnot. I knew I had to blog a post about it. (I considered, in fact, starting an entirely new blog just to discuss the question and its attendant theories and research, but I simply haven’t the time.)

It’s not as simple as just “What is your favorite donut?” which of course is a question that could spawn thousands of graduate dissertations and a massive 3-day conference at a major university (either Harvard, or anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon that’s reasonably near a Krispy Kreme franchise). But that’s a good place to start. What is my favorite donut? A standard chocolate frosted from Dunkin Donuts has always been my go-to, but so much depends on mood. In the autumn months, the strong cinnamon notes of an are really the only way to go. I certainly won’t turn down a regular chocolate cake, nor what is invariably termed the “Manager’s Special,” which is essentially a Boston Creme (chocolate frosted, custard filled) except that the filling is standard white sugar frosting.

(We no longer have a Krispy Kreme nearby, so we shall not speak of their luscious hot glazed treats. We shall also ignore the bakery that makes the finest donuts in the world, the Fractured Prune, for two reasons: 1. they also have no franchise in northern Delaware, and 2. no human could survive living in one because the aroma and flavor of the walls would drive him mad.)

“Favorites” aside, there are many things to consider. Let’s be clear: we are intending to make this donut our home! Does this mean that we are better served with a standard donut, defined as “a donut with a big-A hole in the middle,” since otherwise, where would we stand, and put our fine antiques? Or are we better served with a filled donut, operating under the assumption that the contents would simply be consumed before, or even during, the move-in process? I lean towards the latter, for the simple reason that a filled donut, carefully emptied of its interior, would have a roof, and a regular donut has a big hole in the center and you’d get wet when it rained.

My choices for filled donuts are the “Manager’s Special,” the “Apple Crumb,” and I’ll even throw in a nice powdered chocolate-filled. I believe we are forced to eliminate the latter two out of hand, because both crumbs and powder would respond poorly to rain, whereas a well-sealed chocolate glaze should be able to keep moisture at bay for at least a few days.

My choice, in the end, is the “Manager’s Special.” I would simply eat the cream filling, slightly enlarge the hole so that my piano could fit through it, and move in. Of course, if you are averse to white cream and prefer custard, the Boston Creme is another viable option.

You might think a jelly-filled donut might be best. You might be an idiot.

I know I said last week that I’d be doing updates every Monday, but yesterday was a holiday, so I’m not counting it. Today’s my Monday. Take that.

I don’t know if you subscribe to the “Albuquerque Journal of Grease” (the, and I mean THE, paper of record on everything pertaining to fast food, and let me tell you it’s worth getting just for the “Chronicle of Incidents” pages; last month a guy managed to drop a lit Newport cigarette into hot fry oil and the resulting explosion killed 5 Bulgarian immigrants), but you may have nevertheless heard that Burger King, long the Jay Leno to McDonalds’s David Letterman, has recently changed its french fries. The following statements are not hyperbole:

This is a more important event than than the 2012 Presidential election. I daresay it may be more momentous than the American Civil War. Make no mistake: there is nothing more vital than for you to get your ass over to a BK to try these fries, as quickly as you possibly can, unless it’s 3am and you don’t have a 24 hour BK where you live, in which case you should probably move to civilization you bloody savage.

After years of BK producing french fries that were over-seasoned, over-spiced, and over-cooked into a rock-hard potato rod that tasted vaguely of rancid canola, they have finally seen the light and produced a fry that is not only a 3 million percent improvement over the old one, but also makes the McDonalds product look like a flaccid noodle. Burger King has improved the cut; the fries are thicker all around, leading to a nice crispy exterior and hot soft potato interior. They’ve also improved the seasoning, which is now mostly salt and pepper and possibly some other flavors that I don’t notice because I’m busy keeping my eyes from rolling back in my head with glee and bliss. They are, and this is high praise, on par with the fries at Red Robin, but available right now in fast food form probably 3 minutes from you.

If you couple this with the fact that BK’s burgers are FAR better than McD’s (which has always been the case), I think we all know where I’ll be getting my delicious fast food snacks for the immediate future, which unfortunately amounts to about 6 days because I’m going back on a low-carb diet next week and won’t be having any fries in any form and will probably have to devote myself to McD’s because I can get 6 double cheeseburgers for 6 bucks and inhale them like a chubby kid on the way home from fat camp. My life is pretty sad.

In two posts (one, two), Bruce Buschel outlines the 100 things that restaurant staffers should never do, some of which are obvious:

1. Do not let anyone enter the restaurant without a warm greeting.

8. Do not interrupt a conversation. For any reason. Especially not to recite specials. Wait for the right moment.

And some of which I’d never think of, but which are still crazy important:

12. Do not touch the rim of a water glass. Or any other glass.

13. Handle wine glasses by their stems and silverware by the handles.

I’d add a few more of my own:

101: Write down my order. I am not in the least bit impressed that you can remember the entire order of a table for four, and will not be adding a few dollars to the tip for it. I will, with absolute certainty, subtract a few dollars from your tip when I asked for a medium-rare steak and get it well-done, or if you forget to tell the cooks that my wife doesn’t like onions on her burger.

102: This is one for the restaurant owner: if your establishment is BYOB, don’t charge me money to open my bottle of wine. I can do it myself, with the corkscrew on my pocketknife. If you want to make money off of alcohol, then get a fricking liquor license, you skinflint.

(We had dinner at Butterfish, in West Chester, on Friday, and while the food was fantastic and the service superb, being taxed $3 a bottle infuriated me.)

Holy jeepers:

Flapjack Fiasco

Layers from bottom to top: pancake; cookie dough; pancake; peanut butter and jelly; pancake; chocolate and bananas; pancake; caramel, oreo, marshmallow, sprinkles, M&M’s; pancake; caramel buttercream frosting granished with Trix cereal.

I invented a new drink a few weeks ago that I think you should try. It’s basically a White Russian, but with one slight modification. In a highball glass filled with ice, mix vodka, Kahlua, and fresh, chilled human breast milk, something we at Hearndom II have in extensive supply. I call it the “Mother Russia.”

That is all.

One interesting side effect of my current diet is that it’s gotten me cooking more frequently. I’ve always enjoyed cooking, but it’s hard to find the time, particularly if one works all day. If you want to cook anything complicated, it can take an hour or more of preparation; if you don’t get home until 6, suddenly you’re not eating until 7:30, which is unacceptable when small children are involved. It’s no wonder busy families tend to eat fast food, or ready-made meals in boxes from Stouffer’s.

When dieting, though, the easiest way to fill up without taking in a lot of calories is to eat vegetables. Salads are highly recommended, but boring; after a while I long for something with a little more flavor. Cooked vegetables are the next best thing, but the “vegetarian” ready-made meals you find are horrifible. The solution? Slice up your own veggies and throw ’em in a hot pan. A cabinet full of tasty spices also makes a big difference; curry powder, for example, makes anything, even plain cauliflower, into Special South Asian Cuisine. Yum.

It also helps having Sarah home with the kids for the summer, because it means she can get a head start on dinner. She’s awfully good about timing it such that I can come home, quickly slice some veggies and fry ’em up, and she’s already got a low-calorie meat like pork or chicken a-roasting. (Last night was pork tenderloin, and it was better than sex.) It seems to be working so far; in the first 9 days of my diet, I went from 271 pounds to 261. To be sure, a lot of that is the heralded “water weight,” but hey, I’ll take it.

Now I just need to start going to the gym. I’ll, uh, get right on that.

Oh…oh god. Yes. YES.

(Yes.)

(Hat tip: The Llij.)