Go Fork Yourself.

"Oh, look! Fat guy on a health kick."

That's what I think they're saying; that's what the look on their faces says to me.

Who's "they", you ask? The over-prepared, self-righteous make-up wearing divas that strut the Organic produce aisle in their designer boots; the very ones at my preferred market-style, vegan-friendly grocery store who are, coincidentally, annoying. They are self-indulgent, judgmental and over-dressed. I mean, really, who needs to spend more time getting ready to go than they actually spend shopping?

Naturally, I garner some looks from those types with my grey, cotton urban-camo hoodie and matching-shade grey track pants, a grey Fruit-of-the-Loom t-shirt and beige Timberlands. I certainly don't look white-collar, but then again I am not there to do anything but get my goods and go. 

Maybe it's just odd to see a six foot tall, 285-lb biker-like ogre picking through the organic sweet potatoes and searching for the nicest organic lemons, among other things.

Perhaps when I am down to 210 and rocking the shiny Adidas sweat suit I'll fit in a little better. Insert eye roll here.

The funny part about the "health nerds" in the "good section" of the market is that you really can't even begin to guess who is truly healthy, from the outside looking in. I recently watched another documentary, by the fine folks that did Forks over Knives called The Engine 2 Diet, which featured a number of real-life participants who went through a life changing re-education about whole and healthy foods, led by diet creator Rip Esselstyn.

Enter rich insurance broker and family. The stereotypical All-American couple. Good looking, thin, well-dressed couple, big house, great backyard, gorgeous kitchen... the neighbors you want to know; the people you want to be. The wife, a vegetarian of 19 years, was even surprised at the changes led by Rip, and the kids were, allegedly, happy with the results of the dietary recommendations that spanned from wholesome panini sandwiches to fresh vegetable pizza to dairy-free ice-cream concocted of simply near-frozen banana.

Chances are I'd have exchanged scowls with Mrs. Vegetarian at the grocery store, in my aisle, in a momentary showdown just before we raced each other to grab the last bunch of organic kale. Chances are we'd have completely misjudged each other: I'd have considered her presumptuous, and she'd have expected I knew nothing of what I was perusing. Both of us expecting the other was in the wrong place.

Ironically, we should both be there, among other people, and quite feasibly that is the only aisle we should be shopping in. After all, why do we ever need to shop in any other aisle, especially the ones that contain boxed, canned or bagged foods?

It occurred to me while shopping the other day just how colorful, and tempting and tantalizing, and misleading and disgusting the other 90% of the store was, as I walked through Any_Typical_Big_Chain_Grocer_Name_Here the other day to take advantage of their sales on organic apples and pears. I asked myself,"What on Earth happened that we are completely and utterly dependent upon processed foods? And why haven't we caught on as a whole society yet?"

Is convenience really that convenient?

I am taken back to my childhood and reading the Laura Ingalls-Wilder Little House On The Prairie series of books where her future husband, Almanzo Wilder, was describing the excitement of life on his family farm where treats included having maple syrup poured on snow to create an instant hard-candy. Even better, the mention of having a hot potato kept in his pocket that he would eat once it cooled. What about the talk of the fresh pies, and preserves, and winter stores kept to make it through the tough, long, cold winters of off-season farming?

Nowadays, if we want something we just go buy it and unwrap it.

I am all for human progress and technological advances, but what happened to our ability to be self-sufficient, sustaining, creative, independent, productive and capable of feeding ourselves without commercial dependency?

And more importantly, what happened to our knowledge of how to be the aforementioned individuals? Is that in itself another example of the breakdown of the basic fundamental family unit? Surely we are more responsible than that!

I consider myself of above-average intelligence. I would also describe myself as a "fairly good" cook who is "capable" in the kitchen. I thought that surely the transition to vegan, at a dietary level, would be simply a matter of swapping ingredients out. Trade offs. Substitutions. I was pretty well wrong.

I have had to relearn the basics, like a new language. Cooking temperatures and times, textures and blending, seasoning and spicing, it's all new. Results are not what I'd like, but I've certainly developed some fantastic products which I expect to patent, such as super concrete, mega bricks and something I call Revenge cookies which are only to be served to people you truly, truly dislike. For good reason.

One of my first creations was a "replica" (and by "replica" I mean something that looks, tastes and smells nothing like the original intended product) of Vegan Dad's home-made sausage. Let's just say I think I found a secret recipe for space-grade bolts that NASA should consider for future interplanetary station construction.

On the other hand, I have also concocted some excellent soups, a consumable pseudo-burger based on a brown-rice-and-chickpea burger recipe, a lasagna based on the Engine2 Diet veggie lasagna recipe, and a handful of other snacks, entrees and other meals.

Naturally, the better the ingredients, the better the meal, thus I find myself in the organic sections of the big chain stores more often, and anticipating the interaction with a local farm once CSA and co-op farming slots open up in the season changes. In the mean time, I use the best produce I can find.

The toughest part about finding the good produce is knowing what that truly is and means. Before that part, you need to know what the difference is. If you asked me a year ago to purchase ALL organics, I'd have laughed. 

"It all comes from the same place," I'd tell you, continuing my theory with," they're just re-branding to get you to pay more."

I am sure that in some cases, I was right. Then again, if the organic stuff is legit, you can taste, touch, see, smell and yes, even hear the difference. But to know the difference you have to be willing to try, and trust is tough to earn in a poor economy. Who wants to "try" a $9 bag of oranges, when you can pick up the same thing in a $5 bag. Surely I can't be the first person to have been so suspicious and I definitely won't be the last.

We simply don't know what we're talking about any more. If we did, we'd change our ways. Until then, though, we just follow the herd through the field of boxed items, past the check outs to our cars and back to our kitchens. Thankfully, I've broke ranks.

So far, I am just a few days shy of completing Month One of my lifestyle change.

I can see the difference in how my clothes fit. Others have commented on my weightloss, mainly in my face and neck (probably because I'm dressed almost all the time). I have only weighed myself once. I have never quantified results on this blog, as promised at the beginning simply because this is my journey, not anyone else's, and everyone will have their own results.

That said, I encourage everyone in my life to begin the same change. Although I've generally been amicably teased and mocked, I am patient. I understand every person must experience their own "pop", or their own "Aha!" moment. Sometimes it takes some coaching. Mine did. Had I not watched Vegucated or Hungry for Change I might still be where I was six months ago.

Now, instead of preaching I simply refer friends to documentaries I've seen. The most recent, and most likely the easiest to digest first run through (no pun intended) is Forks Over Knives. Unlike documentaries I've seen prior, it doesn't blatantly hammer anti-meat and anti-dairy visuals and instead eases you through it in the same way they recommend you transition: Add more of the good, and the bad will phase out naturally as you crave it less. The message is simple: Replace junk foods and carnivore-centric items with plant-based items. 

Chopsticks aside, if you can put down your knife and consume most of your meal with a fork it's probably ideal. Some exceptions apply.

But don't take my word for it, Fork yourself here. 

In the mean time, I'm headed back to the grocers for more organics carrots to juice and hopefully to grab one more bunch of kale before it's all gone. Perhaps if I see Mrs. Vegetarian, I'll get her opinion on the wheatgrass, but I'll be sure to put my old band back on my ring finger so she doesn't think I'm flirting.

With tine regards,
FatGuy


 

That Voice

That Voice. You know the one. Not the television show featuring musically inclined performers who sing (really well) live, contrary to the panel judging them; no, that's The Voice. I'm referring to That Voice... The one in your head. The one that learned to speak English, or whatever your native tongue is, the same time you did and has been talking crap to you ever since.

Like Jiminy Cricket's dysfunctional, estranged step-uncle with the family-incited restraining order placed on him that isn't allowed at family functions that involved alcohol for fear of results. The evil, negative natty, overbearing, consolation prize announcing naysayer that always talks you out of being Great. That Voice.

S/he is always there, hovering over your shoulder. Watching. Criticizing. Mocking you and uttering words of sympathetic defeat like an insatiably unsatisfiable disapproving mother-in-law who, no matter what, "only wants the best" for you.

"It's ok to give up. You can always come back and try tomorrow. You're really not a failure, you're just tired cause you had a long day. You should pack it in for now. Or maybe change sports. You were always good at Checkers."

If there's such thing as Murphy's Law, then That Voice is in Murphy's immediate family of pessimistic, passive-aggressive life changers.

I've started to think that I've gone crazy, now that I'm talking back to That Voice. So far, I've managed not to think aloud. Or at least, I don't think I have.

It makes me wonder when That Voice ever kicked in during human progress. How many times did the inventor of the Wheel give up?

"It's really not looking very round. Maybe it's just not meant to be. This is probably a futile invention anyhow. Who the heck is going to use this thing? You know how weird people get about new things."

And if ever there was a calorie to be consumed unnecessarily, That Voice was always the poorly timed voice of reason (and bad judgement) that picks the perfect time to point out the fresh, out-of-the-oven pastries in the far end of the market that you don't need but, "gosh I bet they'd go really good with a hot cup of coffee when you get home from this incredibly torturous day of work."

"Go ahead. You deserve it. You can always work twice as hard at the gym tomorrow!"

Sometimes, I think That Voice is the channeled medium of the world's greatest politician.

The toughest part about this Life change has been shutting That Voice up, or at least putting them on Mute and getting through some of the hardest workouts and dietary changes I've endured. It's an inner battle, indeed. Now on the flip side, That Voice has its moments of glory too.

"Don't forget, you were supposed to pay the electric bill today. Oh, and you're out of bread."

So, you can't silence That Voice, or sever the vocal chords, yet you can't succumb to the resilience of the postulated, pessimistic provoking, so what's a person to do? Barter? Banter? Bribe? Or just bicker?

My new theory is to handle That Voice with a skillful strategy of two rules:

First, employ Irish negotiation tactics. Answer or respond to every statement or question with a question. You can even fake the accent for good measure.

"It's ok to give up. You already ran two of the five cycles. At least you showed up at the gym. You're checked in on Facebook. You can always come back and try tomorrow. You don't want to push yourself too far and get injured right?", That Voice asks.

"Why will tomorrow be different?" I ask back.

Stumped. That time, at least. Not every time. Sometimes That Voice is quick-witted and convincing.

The second, and possibly more important rule: Always wear a bluetooth or other headset. That way, if you do start to talk back to That Voice, no one will truly think you're crazy, just geeky.

And if all of the above fails, I'm thinking brute force and raw ignorance: Press on. Eventually, That Voice has to get tired of talking to someone stubborn. Ok, maybe not. You're right. It was worth the try.

Vocally yours,
Fat Guy

Appsolutely Vital.

Four years ago, I was roughly 330 lbs. I was living in a small, one-bedroom condo in Toronto, Ontario. It was nice. I had a loving, faithful wife. She was nice. I had a new compact, fuel efficient commuter car. It was nice. I had a mid-management job in a fancy office building where I managed a team of people. It was nice.

I was nice. Yet, I was also miserable. 

Ten months earlier I worked for a Florida-based company and in just 25 minutes, I could be on Clearwater Beach to share a bucket of fresh crabs and watch the sun set with some of the greatest friends I've ever made, by my side. That was nice. Yet, I was miserable.

I spent six and a half years traveling back and forth to Tampa, FL on business. I never golfed. I never went tanning. I didn't rollerblade, or bicycle, or even go for walks. I spent most of my time either working or at home in the air conditioning. The times I had a rental place with a pool, I enjoyed the solitude and privacy of my backyard. That was nice. I was miserable.

The simple fact is, I don't think I've ever been truly happy in my adult life. It's not that I don't like who I am. I'm very content. I'm unhappy with what I am.

Just over fifteen years ago I was a pack-a-day smoker. I drank soda by the half-gallon. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted. I was in relatively decent shape because I had a physical job. I literally walked miles a night, and got fairly lean but I would never claim I was "fit". Within a short year or two that changed. I earned a promotion, got a desk job, and never thought twice about a change in diet. Life was all about convenience foods. I left "the healthiest shape" of my life far behind and went on a spiraling decent.

I try to remind myself of that now: I didn't gain the weight over night, so I certainly won't lose it over night.

Had I told myself fifteen years ago that some day I would regret that lifestyle, and told myself that a healthy future meant green juice, jogging and a non-meat/non-dairy lifestyle, I'd have laughed myself into a straight-jacket. Ironically, the insanity part wasn't the idea of healthly lifestyle, it should have been the idea of ignoring my own health. Some where between 22 and 35 I lost myself in a world of high calorie, heavily processed, nutrient absent foods and it showed in every aspect of my world: physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. 

Watching Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead identified that for me when they introduced the character Phil Staples, the 429-lb truck driver. I'd never seen him before, but I knew him. I recognized the place he was living in, proverbially. There's not much lighting there.

See, when you watch a movie and there's a little fat kid in it, he's always the slow, chunky one eating the junk food and trying to figure out what all his friends are running from. Same for the overweight girl in the movies; she's never the one that can expect the limo to roll up with Richard Gere hanging out the sunroof, calling out for Lady Vivian. There's something about being fat that is universally recognized as lazy, sloth-like, undesirable, goofy and in some cases, even mentally slower than everyone else. Like a permanent life-state of being picked last for the baseball team. Constantly.

Apparently, you can even chalk your lack of career success up to your lack of physical health now too. As if having to look at your swollen belly in the mirror every time you get out of the shower isn't bad enough, you have to be discriminated against financially by your boss too.

The hard part is fixing it. You can't just go in and have it all removed. It's not like the crappy little apartment where you can just put in your notice and do the midnight move. It's not the lousy job with the jerk boss you can simply walk out on. It's not the junker jalopy you can park under a bridge in the old rundown part of the downtown area and set fire to it, then bribe two old homeless guys with a bottle of Old Crow whiskey to say someone matching your ex-wife's description was running away from the area. No, being fat and unhealthy is like none of those things.It's more like scaling Mount Everest in a tank-top, speedo and flip flops during the Off-season. You could try, but you'll be lucky if it doesn't kill you, or at least turn you back defeated without the proper preparation and training. To train and prepare you need the right tools and the right support.

Todd Lange tweeted to me today. That made me happy. He was asking me for my email, because apparently I get a bonus app from him for 10k101 because I've mentioned him in posts and my YouTube videos. I'm deeply grateful, but more importantly I'm happy. Not for the freebie (Love that though, Todd!), but because of what I can do now that I have never been able to do before. I'm going on my forth week of jogging training, and nothing says "Yes We Can" like completing a segment of the 5k101 program, that Todd developed.

Todd Lange saved a life. His app (and free podcasts) has helped me learn how to do the impossible. Four weeks from now, provided I am not delayed by illness or injury, I should be able to run five kilometers uninterrupted  That is something I've never been able to say, never mind actually do. That makes me happy.

In the present moment of my life I have a mediocre middle-management job. I have an aging car. I'm in the middle of a long, drawn out divorce. I'm not where I want to be, doing what I want to be, making what I want to be or being what I want to be, but, I'm happy; I'm happy because I now see what I can do when I put my mind to it, prepare and move towards a goal that's not about chasing a dream. 

In the coming years, I'll be running 5k and maybe even 10k races. I'll be enrolled in an MBA program. I'll be a homeowner again. I'll be self-aware. I'll be a better man.

I'll get there soon.

Finally, I am not running from something; I'm running towards something. And that is absolutely fantastic. But, I'm happy. And that is absolutely the most important thing in life.

With any luck, this life change to a healthy new beginning means I'll live longer to enjoy it too!

With appreciation,
FatGuy

All Roads Lead to Roam...

The mid-month mark has passed since I began a full-fledged run towards Green-er pastures, and started my trek into the land of Vegans. It's been a roller coaster of physical, mental and emotional highs and lows. Lack of understanding and lack of preparation certainly contributed. I think the odds were stacked against me due to my prior perception as to what exactly being vegetarian actually meant, and more-so what being vegan really stood for.

At this point, I am vegetarian while observing an almost-exclusively vegan diet. I say "almost" because there are certain suspiciously non-vegan products which I have not yet eliminated from my daily intake primarily because they were purchased, already open and needing consumption from prior to my dietary change. Products such as Skippy or Jif brand peanut butter, for example. My first step has basically to begin to purchase vegan-only products for future consumption. This causes the same shift to happen in your purchasing that will eventually happen in the consumption - add the good to filter out the bad naturally.

Certainly there has been a sense of loss. Some of my favorite foods are no longer "available" to me. The toughest mental challenge is accepting that I do not want them, but could eat them if I really wanted to. I simply choose 'Not' to have them. Then again, with pizza being my numero uno guilty pleasure I certainly have no choice but to abandon aforementioned favorites; adult onset lactose intolerance decided that for me. However, nothing says I couldn't choose to just eat some; I would just be choosing to suffer as well.

The mental drain of constantly fighting to choose what to eat, and what not to, is most likely the number one challenge. Trying to scramble to figure out something to eat at the end of a work day was proof as to why the prepared food industry thrives despite the nutrient vacant quality of 99% of the products out there. Simply put, its "too much work" to be healthy, for most people. Planning ahead is key.

Then there are the physical withdrawal symptoms. Beyond the caffeine reaction, I've had a sugar decompression sickness that left me with headaches, waves of nausea, bloating and a number of other unmentionables none of which I want to endure. So the big question is,"Why am I experiencing withdrawl symptoms if there was nothing wrong with mainstream food I had in my diet?"

Let's just say there is nothing wrong with it, in which case, I am certainly questionable for going against the flow of general society, and nothing proves that more than the reactions one gets when making the statement,"I'm (going) vegan."

The reactions are almost priceless.

See, I've decided to go against the grain, to speak both proverbially and literally. It's almost like Dorothy choosing to follow the Red Brick road.

In reality, maybe Dorothy would have been better to follow that route? Who decided she really needed to go see the Wizard in Oz? That road was littered with risk and fraught with danger. What if the red brick road went to the GO station, and she could have hopped an L-Train to Oz? We'll never know. 

See, the way I figure it, I can choose whatever road I want in life; this really is just a race against myself. The question is merely which route do I want to take. None are predetermined. No route is guaranteed. The destination is final - but we won't argue about where that is on this blog, that's a different site.

What I can tell for sure, just two weeks in, is that I feel considerably better already. I have more energy. I am sleeping better. I enjoy the (new) foods I am eating. And if I truly detoxed leaving the mainstream foods, did I really just spend 35+ years on a dark path?

Now, there is no proof that I can tangibly put down on paper. What I can say is that a particular farmer featured in the documentary Fresh explained it in a way that makes absolutely the most sense to me. Joel Salatin, a homesteader in TN, was featured indepth. His farming style is simple: re-enact the migratory patterns of livestock in the wild and let nature take its course. Everything is a cyclical.

Salatin grazes his livestock in sections on the farm, cycling them from one grazing paddock to the next. Each day they basically move on to greener pastures. Just like they would have prior to domestication, or if left unattended on a large field (and by that I mean, not stacked side by side in a mud pit as is seen on typicaly revenue-driven mass meat farms). After the cows have moved on, the chickens are brought in. Their natural pecking and fertilization happens. And so continues the cycle.

The cows are fed naturally occurring greens. They move on, leaving behind pure, organic fertilizer whch is sorted and processed by the chickens. What's left after the chickens is easily broke down and reabsorbed back into the soil to continue again.

Rinse. Repeat.

Now, I'm not a farming guru by any means (Although I did run a mean streak on Farmville!) but I have to tell you that Salatin's process makes sense. After all, I'm pretty sure with just a minor effort I'll find this migrating-grazing technique is pretty standard going right back to Laura Ingalls' day's On The Banks Of Plum Creek, and beyond. It Just. Makes. Sense. It's all about the Roaming capabilities of your livestock, never mind your cell phone. I can't even BEGIN to explain the part about population percentage-to-area ratios.

Compare that to the stall-kept, hormone-fed, over-stimulated milk and beef cattle that are processed for mainstream consumption, at the end of that yellow brick road - and by yellow, I do mean gold - because obviously big Agro biz is all about gold in the coffers and not the quality. Or the wellness.

Never mind the reaction people have to me ditching the low-quality food. Why don't I have a reaction to them insisting on staying on the bad stuff? I'm starting to believe that I am going to end up extremely flustered as to why people would blindly consume what they don't truly know about. After all, the latest news flash today was that there is potentially an artificial calamari on the market that is actually pig rectum. Now this report seems he-said-she-said and likely a hoax, but the fact that we should be reassured that this would be no worse than standard process meats is unnerving. As stated, there is always a likelihood that typical sausage and processed meats already contain fecal matter as a standard ingredient anyhow! And in the US, the FDA even has guidelines to allow for it. Yum!

The simple fact is, big business farming goes against natural processes and laws of nature.

So back to my question of my detoxing. What if this IS the red brick road. And what if it's not easier and in fact, actually harder, but healthier? And what am I missing? I have not even begun to tackle the tougher change in living vegan: personal hygiene products, clothing, and so on. Naturally, the second topic to tackle after the kitchen is the bathroom, as I'll strive to swap out deodorants, toothpastes, soaps and other health-related items to eliminate the mainstream brands that presumably alter my bio-chemical wellness. Tough terrain ahead, I don't doubt.

I may be underestimating this life change in choosing paths to follow, but so far, the benefits are worthwhile. Now, to stay the course!

Grazefully yours,

FatGuy

Now on Facebook

Join me now on Facebook!

https://www.facebook.com/fatguygoesvegan

Lying in Wait...

Definition of "lying in wait": 

1. ambush, ambuscade, lying in wait, trap ...

The world was once flat, or dome shaped. To suggest humans were residing on a giant ball of dirt was ludicrous. The idea that our world was round was beyond comprehension, thus it was "wrong". Denial of the truth behind the science of the planet was futile, as it was eventually proven to the masses to such an extent that any fifth grader can tell you what the Earth looks like. Just ask Jeff Foxworthy.

Someone at some point told everyone the Earth was indeed flat though. It was "common knowledge".

It's funny to me that we have so much "common knowledge" about us in our daily lives. I blame our parents.

I've decided that the act of parenting is the art of mistruth. It is a wholly practiced process of providing information in such fashion that you are guided along in life to the beat of their drum. Until you take their drumsticks away and beat your own damn drum.

See, they tell us lies our whole lives:

"You can be anything you want when you grow up."

No. You can't. I couldn't carry a tune for the life of me; I get booed off Rock Band when it's just me playing. Yet, in accordance with the advice of my parents, I could have been a rock star. No. I couldn't.

"Everyone's a winner."

No. Everyone isn't a winner. Not everyone can be in first place. Not everyone should get a trophy. When everyone wins, there is no accountability for performance. It reduces motivation. Truly, you can only be as great as you are; if you're already a winner, then why try. You already won.

So, if you can be anything you want and don't really need to try, Life is a piece of cake, isn't it? Or in my previous world, Life is several pieces of cake.

Perhaps they should have said,"Sorry, kid, but if you don't try to be SOMETHING when you grow up, and do your best to WIN that race, you can't be anything you want cause you didn't try hard enough."

You can't be a healthy, fit, athletic, contributing member of society if you don't train for it.

Furthermore, why don't they tell you that cutting calories is the answer to staying thin or losing weight. For the same reason, why don't they advise you that nutritionally dense foods are contributors to your mental and emotional health and that biologically you are pre-programmed to operate differently if you are loaded up on high fructose corn syrup and other refined sugars. Sugar is the cocaine of the culinary world.

They told me that I needed to eat my vegetables to be healthy. Why didn't they tell me that if I don't eat my vegetables, I'll grow up to be obese, suffering from gout and facing a future of heart problems and other organ failures.

Also, why didn't they tell me that most diet products aren't really healthy?

Why do they let you believe that children's cereal is a smart thing to eat? 

Why do they allow McDonald's to show nothing but smiley happy people? Why aren't these children being exploited in McDonald's ads:

These devout caloric followers deserve the kudos for driving stock shares north, no? I bet they'd work for french fries.

We're inundated with facts from the moment we enter this world, that are false and even Snopes.com can't keep up with it all.

They lie to us. And wait. While they wait, we spend. We consume. We repeat.

We do this, potentially, for our whole lives. Or, until we learn the truth. At least, until some of us do.

The sad part is that when I try to explain this to friends, family, and loved ones I experience what I am sure Galileo felt when he tried to claim the sun, not the Earth, was the center of the known universe. "Common knowledge" reassures them that "Fat Free" yogurt and diet soda are the best way to cure the common fatty.

So, if that's the case, then how have humans survived on this planet for (far) longer than 2,000+ years (We're not going to debate Creationism versus Evolution here) without Danone Activia, the Delicious Probiotic Yogurt with BL Regularis Culture? We must have barely made it through the Crusades because of the shortages.  After all, according to the ads Activia yogurt is the only yogurt with BL Regularis in it. So, that must mean it's fantastic!

Which brings me to the acceptance of the fact that we're led to believe whatever rich fat cat business owners want us to believe. In reality, anything we need to thrive and flourish is naturally occurring. Yet, mainstream society can't embrace that thought. It goes against everything we've been told.

I guess it's just a matter of time, and science, before it's proven. Hurry up and wait.

Round and round we go,
Fat Guy

Squid Pro Quo

Speak with any old fisherman and he'll tell you about the "one that got away", almost taking his entire boat with him it in. In fact, go back through literary history and you'll find tales of giant seafaring creatures with long tentacles grasping entire ships with ease.

Until recently, these creatures were fabled myths: Oft talked about, often suspected and occasionally proven to exist through minimal evidence.Yet, we're a global society of fact-mongers requiring hard evidence that extends far beyond a reasonable doubt usually depending on at least six of the five senses to convince us.

There is no such thing as Santa. Neither sasquatch, nor yeti hide behind trees. The Grinch is merely a cartoon. The Kraken was folklore. Until now. These scientists have finally proven it.

Similarly, the idea of living a healthy athletic lifestyle was something of imaginary conjurations to me as well. That's a story that neither Lucas nor Spielberg could make happen even with all the creative talent at Skywalker Ranch. Well, perhaps they could superimpose my face on Dwayne Johnson's body, but it wouldn't be real. Again, a story.

Partly because I've spent far too much time working rather than living, and partly because of aforementioned work etiquette I've spent far too much time (and money) invested in convenience foods, I've denied myself a healthy lifestyle. From time to time, I would get the urge (and never around January, I refuse) to get back into the gym routine. Every time I did, I would spend countless hours researching and investigating the latest in whey isolate protein powders. Every single on of them would disappoint.

It just seemed to me that protein drinks required milk, and milk had fat in it, and even more complicating for me was the lactose. So naturally, when I came into this latest evolution of my life, I decided to forgo the protein shake effort and simply stick to "healthy food". That is, until my uncle, a seasoned runner for as long as I've been on this earth, introduced me to +Brendan Brazier and the Thrive series that I've mentioned a few times.

Now, I won't lie. I was skeptical that Vega One, the plant-based protein shake formula would truly be consumable without a lot of effort. However, to think that I am even drinking kale these days is miraculous. In fact, over the last year or two I declined any time my sister offered me a sample of her morning shake, while I was visiting her, and to think that my skepticism delayed the inevitable epiphany is frustrating, but I digress; the kale, peanut butter, banana, ice and unsweetened almond milk beverage I now consume daily required protein to truly balance my nutritional income. 

Initially, for my daily morning shake, I was using pumpkin powder that I absconded from a friend. I found it gritty and displeasing, but it did the trick. Later, I received a package of delightful hemp protein powder as well, that I enjoyed, and still do. Finally, having spent enough time following the Thrive books, and reading about MyVega products, I decided to splurge and purchase a tub of Vega One Nutritional Shake powder after seeing an advertisement for it in a local grocer's weekly flyer.

My flavor selection was one of a Disqualification process. The choices, French Vanilla, Chocolate, Vanilla Chai, Berry and Natural flavor were lined up in front of me at the point-of-sale display. Eventually, I settled on the Natural flavor suspecting that as a neutral flavor it would be most easily concealed and would be most versatile in the different Blended Recipes I choose.And so it has been, as I've included it in each drink every day since purchase.

Yet, the full irony lies in my random, ok-i'll-do-it-to-prove-you-wrong decision this morning, while talking to aforementioned running man, Uncle H, who advised me that filtered water is his preferred selection of fluid delivery mediums for said protein powder.

I had doubts. My senses screamed in agony in anticipation of a foul, stomach-turning experience much like I've endured in the whey isolate days of water-fountain torture.

Having purchased the single-serving packages of Vega One in three flavors - Chocolate, Vanilla and Berry - I lined up my three powder pouches and spun my tumbler in true Russian Roulette a la Deer Hunter style, and death by Chocolate it was.

I carefully added the dark, chocolatey brown powder to my beloved tumbler, and slowly - more so somewhat reluctantly - I started to pour a cup of filtered water into the plastic vessel of pending doom.

The fires of Mordor seemed more inviting to a Hobbit than this appealed to me.

Believe that I shook that tumbler for all it was worth, as if to exorcise a demon of biblical proportions from within it. That, and I was procrastinating. I'm not sure which was expected to leave a more bitter taste in my mouth: the powdered, plant-based contents with lukewarm water, or the idea that I just wasted a $5 pouch of protein shake with water instead of a dairy alternative.

Surprisingly, giant tentacles didn't pull me under. There was no giant beak biting back. I lived. 

Later in the day I went back and read more about the shake development. The Vega One series was developed over roughly a year's span, and was specifically designed by Brendan to use water as the fluid mixing agent. It has everything you need before it even gets wet.

That said, as of roughly 12 hours before this blog entry, I was still a skeptic. I still didn't believe. My five senses were already insistent that this Vega One needed to be hidden. Fortunately someone (slightly) older and wiser had a good tip. 

Same goes for my sister, only younger (slightly) and wiser,  to whom I should thank for eventually, albeit passively, converting me to kale lover and inspired me to give blending a whirl.

For their contribution to my betterment, each of them has a delivery en route. To my uncle, there is a package of an alternate plant-based protein powder that we spoke about this morning, made by Genuine Health out of Toronto, ON. The least I could do was introduce him to an alternative brand of a similar product, albeit we'll both likely remain loyal to MyVega. And secondly, to my sister, a flavor sample pack of each of the Vega One flavors with hopes that she'll enjoy the MyVega products as much as her uncle and I do.

It was the least I could do: Tit for tat, one good turn deserves another. As long as it doesn't bite back.

Without them, this might have been the one that got away.

FG