Archive for category my background

The Difficulty Of Thinking About Your Future

I spent yesterday visiting with two great kids around 20. The girl was beautiful and bronze. She admitted that she tans easily and didn’t use sun screen yet this summer. He admitted that when you are 20, you never think about what life will be like when you are 40. We were talking about staying fit and healthy, and I had mentioned how many women I saw who may have gained just two pounds a year after college, so they were 40 pounds heavier at age 40, or weighed an extra 60+ pounds by the time they were 60 or 70.

The concerned parent in me told the girl how I worked as a cabana boy in Florida during high school and even used baby oil to intensify my tan. My blond hairs against a bronze skin were often admired by the tourist girls I was trying to impress.

At my annual physical, when I was in my 50’s, my new doctor in Connecticut was also very impressed: “Lots of sun damage here.” He explained that it can take decades for the harm from excessive sun tanning to show itself.

My doc insisted that I see a dermatologist every six months. It may have kept me alive, because in addition to various, benign skin cancers that appeared and needed to be removed, there was one very deadly cancer, melanoma, that surfaced. It was removed early enough that five years have passed without a flare up or serious consequence. Lucky me. But a friend’s friend died of melanoma after years sailing joyfully, and unprotected, in the sun.

So it’s hard to be young and worry about consequences later, when you are old. That was me too in college. I was just trying to pass some courses, get a date, have fun, earn some respect. Normal and very understandable. Maybe many people don’t ever see how earlier actions are connected to later results. I read that the human brain can’t think very far into the future until it is around 25 years old. That is why insurance rates for drivers are so high until age 25. At that time those drivers still alive have a bit more “common sense.” It’s not true when it comes to eating. Not when one third of the people are obese and another third are overweight.

And it may not be true when it comes to our leaders anticipating international relations, economics, climate change. So we just have to muddle along, trying not to be fearful of all the foods we encounter. Being aware enough to not fall into the hole of denial. Controlling what we can of the choices we have. Taking the time to become informed.

Most of us don’t have the energy to do this in addition to all the demands of a busy overstimulated, overwhelming life. We are simply trying to survive, to make it to the next day, the next paycheck, the next vacation or family dinner.

Sometimes we can’t change our behavior, even when we know what the consequences are likely to be. My father used to say, “If the crime is worth the punishment, then commit the crime.” I read an essay about cancer this week by Christopher Hitchens, a famous intellectual who wrote books, high-brow essays and appeared on talk shows. I saw a video today in which he states, “I am dying. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , ,

Re-Channeling Anger To Become A Tennis Terror

I wrote earlier ( http://www.irasabs.com/?p=2240) about how I lack the killer, cuthroat instinct. How it shows on the court. I am definitely competitive and want to win and try what I think is my best. But if I lose, big deal. It’s only a game. And I am constantly saying just that to new doubles partners: “Relax. We’re here to have fun. You never have to apologize for a bad shot and say, I’m sorry.”

Observers of my tennis game have commented on my nonchalance about winning. They say my niceness shows up, that I don’t run desperately for each ball, that my net volleys are firm, but not so forceful as to knock someone unconscious if I hit them in the head. I should be tougher.

All that changed yesterday, December 7th, when I was playing and became pissed. Now I must interject that I have had some personal setbacks, disappointments, anxieties about a relative dying, friends with their own problems. And the doubles game was going slowly. I grew impatient for a speedier match, and all my suppressed negativity broke through. I was outraged, annoyed, ticked off—at the world and the difficulties of living a life. At the raw deals people are stuck with, and their daily burdens. It all busted loose. I may have wanted to scream and shout.

So I took it out on the tennis balls. I served rapidly, faster and harder than ever before. I hit powerfully for me, deep and accurately. The other team was commenting on how impossible returns were. And what was going on stroke after stroke?

I was experiencing new and rare emotions that I couldn’t recognize. I felt enraged and ornery and furious and threatening. God damn evil and dictatorial. Some caused I’m sure because a relative of someone I know had been murdered a few days before. If I’d had a hammer, I might have hit someone in the head. There was a lot of pent up energy.

So I channeled it into my game.

When it was over and a few hours had passed, I thought about who I had become. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , ,

How To Catch And Cook A Pheasant

Went hunting for pheasant twice last week. With a double-barreled, side-by-side, 1929 American-made (an L.C. Smith), 20-gauge shotgun that has art deco, large-leaf engravings. Five and a half hours walking in swamps, mud, cornfields, hayfields, woods, brooks and briars. Joyfully watching two friends’ dogs sniff and search for birds. There are now two pheasants and a quail in the freezer that I prepared for Thanksgiving dinner.

Ira, Blitz the German Shorthaired Pointer, and shotgun get the birds—11/10/09

Ira, Blitz the German Shorthaired Pointer, and shotgun get the birds—11/10/09


Pheasants and quail caught for Thanksgiving dinner—11/10/09

Pheasants and quail caught for Thanksgiving dinner—11/10/09

Non-hunters can never know the glorious hearts of canine breeds that find those still and silent birds. These pets track bird scent with the grace of ballerinas and have almost inexhaustible energy. When close, some dogs freeze, point and wait for the bird to bolt…or the hunter to prod the prey into the air, where it rockets suddenly at 40 to 60 miles per hour. Hopefully a retrieval follows.

Other dogs, like my English Springer Spaniel, Bella, are flushers. They track and do the bump as well. You just have to keep them relatively near by, because the shotgun only has an effective range of 35 or 40 yards. The pointers can wander all over, maybe a football field away. Some will stay motionless with nose aiming at the pheasant for 20 minutes. Then the hunter has plenty of time to close in for the shot. But a flusher out of range is a real frustration. You just watch the birds fly away, and curse, and yell at your dog.

As I mentioned in my bird stocking post (http://www.irasabs.com/?p=2430), the pheasants have a much better chance than chickens raised for supermarkets. In fact on the second day, during four hours of hunting, my friend and I fired at five pheasants and a woodcock, but only took one pheasant home.

My English Springer Bella after a swim—6/11/08

My English Springer Bella after a swim—6/11/08

Bella was lame for many months, so she hasn’t hunted for two years. She now seems healed. Hopefully we can search the fields together soon. She loves to romp and jump. She gets so excited when I take out the neck bell that helps me locate her as she scours the bushes and grasses. It is grown-up Hide and Seek.

For the birds the stakes are high. It is not a game. Yet they would probably not be alive in the first place if there weren’t hunting clubs eager to purchase them. Over 10 million pheasants are raised each year. It is an annual ritual anticipated by two million American hunters. These sportsmen welcome the challenge, the camaraderie, the preparation of the birds and the various recipes. My favorite way to cook pheasants is double-basted in raw eggs and flour, sauteed and topped with strawberry liqueur.

art deco shotgun engraving

art deco shotgun engraving

I only learned to hunt as an adult after I moved from Manhattan to Connecticut in 1990. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Notice Your “Perfect” Moments Before They Pass

I used to know Duane Michals and meet him for lunch on occasion. He is a world-famous, fine art photographer who also did commercial assignments. He is renowned for hiring models and creating sequences of images that tell stories.

I think we met in the late ’70′s, when I ran the Nikon Photo Gallery, and we were both speakers at some photo event. We would talk about metaphysics, religion, the meaning of life, the Big Bang, whether dreams or waking time was the real reality. I also owned a company acquired in bankruptcy that had published and distributed some of his books.

We had a stimulating, intellectual friendship. I remember he said that only a few extremely rare people made a huge difference over history—leaders like Jesus, Mohammed, Einstein. The rest of us were more analogous to tiny sperms who didn’t reach the egg: we were no longer needed and ended up flushed down the toilet. It was all relative, of course. He wasn’t saying that we ordinary humans should be eliminated or didn’t have some value. It’s just that our contributions paled in comparison to the handful of great changemakers.

In one of Duane’s books called Homage to Cavafy, there is a powerful image of his that has impressed me for decades. I have been thinking about it a lot since my injury this past July.

moment of perfection by Duane Michals

moment of perfection by Duane Michals

The caption Duane wrote under this picture reads, “He was unaware that at the exact moment he removed his undershirt, his body had grown to its perfection. With his next breath, the moment had passed.”

I have always presumed that after that instant of perfection, the body in the picture starts to decay. Just as a flower that has bloomed to its fullest begins to dry, whither and turn brown. The decaying of a human body might last 50 or 80 years until the conscious life is over and we are “dead.” It is a gradual process that we can imagine speeded up by watching flowers or insect lives documented with time-lapse photography. Then come the worms and bacteria to transform the organic residue into dust.

Humans do have second chances. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Why Does Winning Matter So Much?

I grew up with a father who played golf for “the fun of it.” He loved being outside, walking the course, enjoying the sunshine. His score wasn’t that important. Sure he wanted to do his best, maybe beat his personal records. But he loved the social and physical experience above all. Much more than besting his fellow players.

These days I bump into tennis opponents who “play for blood.” They are dominated by the need to win at all costs. They become enraged if they miss a shot. They yell at their doubles partner if he hits a ball into the net. And they will hit to the weakest player on the other team over and over and over, rather than mix up their placements to their opponent’s side of the court.

What is that all about, I keep wondering? Sure I do my best to win, run hard after each ball, focus on serves, well-placed shots, return unexpected gets. I strive throughout to hit where they ain’t. But if I lose a point, I frown—sometimes I curse—and get ready for the next shot. If my partner blows an easy one, I recall that I’ve missed a slew too. If we lose in a long rally, I shrug, smile and praise the victors. I am glad for all the excitement, good exercise and harmless tension.

For me it is all just a game. I can’t seem to get too upset on the court, when other less fortunate people are losing their jobs, watching storms destroy their houses or being maimed by suicide bombers. But for some locals I know, these sports entertainments are not just a game. It appears they are contests to assert dominance, build ego, establish superiority, enhance personal stature and to prove that they are better than I am. At least I think that might be the real aim of their victory.

I know that I am competitive when I run after the ball that no one else might have retrieved, practice in between matches for hours with a ball machine, against a wall or hitting serves. I took two-hour lessons almost every week for a year to improve my performance in the beginning. I believe I am clearly serious about becoming a stronger player. And though I have only been playing less than 2 1/2 years, and some of my competitors (aged 45 to 93) have been playing regularly since they were kids, I can often hold my own and earn their respect. At least they will play me weekly or call me to be a substitute. So I am good enough to give them a challenging game. Or beat them.

But I just don’t have that killer instinct they do. I am never out to draw blood. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

I’m Back After 40 Days and 40 Nights

That is how long since I went to the gym. What an intermission. Lots of excuses, soreness, travel, family responsibilities, and my own ordinary human nature. As I confessed in the posts about my background (see “my background” posts on April 4th), I have a history of not being disciplined about exercise, never went to a gym before two years ago and rarely played sports regularly.

I did injure myself (I think it happened when I was setting personal best records doing pull ups), went to a nurse, took anti-inflammatory pills, met with an orthopedist, and now a physical therapist. I’m told it could be a lot worse than it is, and I am almost sure to heal with a few weeks of special exercises for my right forearm, elbow and shoulder. (I did tear my right shoulder in three places back in 2006).

There is really no physical excuse for not doing abs work like crunches. There has been nothing wrong with my abdominal area. Nevertheless, I did crunches just six times. Three of those efforts were during the first two weeks of August (max of 750), and the latest was today, when I ground out only 350, mostly the more difficult bicycle type.

During this 40-day period in the workout desert, I could have lifted weights with my left arm. But I basically stopped. It was all mental. Too pressured and too lazy. And then too guilty. Could barely even write on this site. As much as I quote that “two steps forward, one step back” mantra, it’s painful to accept it. I hate it. Thinking about the Nadals, Picabo Streets, and a thousand other top athletes who get injured and push through their setbacks to return to their game and shine should be an inspiration. Well I am trying to be inspired.

Here’s the breakdown of my limited home crunch exercising: Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

What Hunters Like About Hunting

Was determined to reach the gym—need two more visits this month to make eight total. But also wanted to practice archery in preparation for the turkey-hunting season, which starts on May 6th. So at 6:30 pm, I went out to the life-size, three-dimensional rubber turkey target and fired off a few arrows for the first time since last fall.

The first two hit the bird; then I started missing. In the second group of eight arrows, only three hit the target. But by the end, 8/8 were in the turkey. This is really good for me. So I stopped and raced off to the gym, which stays open until 10 pm.

I learned how to hunt in Connecticut (many many men do it here) with a shotgun in the early 90’s. My neighbor used to own a hunting and fishing shop, and he introduced me to this aspect of rural life. I discovered that I loved the outdoors, the silence, the aloneness, the commune with nature, bumping into deer and coyotes and bobcats and many birds singing their different songs. I learned that I loved the taste of wild turkey, which is nothing like a domestically raised bird. I loved the challenge of finding the turkey, calling it in close with a noisemaker that simulates a real bird, hitting it, plucking it, gutting and dressing it and learning the different ways to cook it.

It’s all part of a hunting/gathering tradition that humans have known for thousands of years, and almost all city-folks are totally unaware of. I felt like I was connecting with my roots, my past, unknown ancestors and the present natural world at the same time. I must confess that I was such a city guy, so naive and uninformed about the outdoors, that I did not realize until I was 46 that birds had different sounding songs that could be used to identify them. Can you believe that? I am still astonished that I was so out of touch with Mother Nature. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Managing Your Food…If You Can

I have learned that as undisciplined as I am when it comes to exercising, I am very disciplined compared to others when it comes to eating. My father always said that “You are what you eat.” My wife calls me the “food police.” Since high school when I weighed 170, I have reached 185 pounds and dropped to 163 or so. But that drop was during a brief period when I jogged for a couple of months on a dare to run in a seven-mile road race.

It took me years to realize that when my clothes became tight, it was NOT because they were shrinking in the wash—I was gaining fat. So I would then give up the desserts I love and bread and muffins and lose the weight. I was that disciplined. Once the pounds were gone, I was back to ice cream every night, and sometimes three desserts a day between Thanksgiving and New Years. Predictably I regained 10 pounds each December…that I would then lose over the next few months.

About two years ago, my cholesterol rocketed up to 239, which is almost heart attack range I read—so I instantly changed my diet and my life. I began exercising daily on a rowing machine that had been gathering dust, gave up ice cream, chicken skin, sea urchin and many other high cholesterol foods. Within three months I was down to a cholesterol number of 178. Amazed everyone. I stopped the rowing. Now the number is 204. Not bad. Much safer.

But I asked my doctor at this year’s physical why people who say they want to lose weight continue to eat foods that are clearly fattening. “I can’t lose weight,” they whine, and then they drink almost a whole bottle of wine, snort that blue cheese down or have just a “tiny” spoonful or two of cake or ice cream at most meals. “Not everyone is as disciplined as you,” doc pointed out. “They don’t want to give up those good tasting foods that you can avoid.” Even though some of them go to the gym more than I do, spend an hour on a machine to lose 300 calories and then have one drink or dessert that in five minutes puts all those calories right back on them. Not logical…but people aren’t logical. Read the rest of this entry »

Tags: , , , , , ,

My Gym and Athletic History

Back to the gym–it’s 40 minutes away, so the round trip visit for a one-hour workout is a 2 ½ to 3-hour commitment. I was told that going once a week just keeps me somewhat toned. Going twice a week starts to build muscle. I have made it to the gym eight times in one month only twice since I joined. Four to six times a month is my normal pattern. I wear tank tops and admire the cuts when I puff out. I have been told that I am “ripped.” But you can see that I find it hard to get there. And I almost never lift weights or do anything at home. Maybe that will change now that I am blogging…I hope so.

My life has not been the usual active, sports-filled one my friends can look back upon. There were two physical years in my 20’s in the army that included jumping out of planes five times after three weeks of heavy conditioning. But then I worked long long hours in offices for most of three decades. So I never felt I had time to exercise. I occasionally did push-ups. I skied downhill now and then. There were three years in my early 40’s (maybe 1983 to 1985) when I played with martial arts almost once a week after work—first aikido and then capoeira from Brazil. The aikido philosophy made me successful in business—if you like, I’ll tell you about it later. The capoeira demanded cartwheels and squats—I was really fit then. However I stopped, fell apart and did nothing much that was physical. That’s the history.

Things changed a little after 1991, because I moved full-time to a rural farm, discovered I liked the outdoors and began walking in the woods. I also went cross-country skiing five to ten times each winter. Then I took up tennis two years ago—playing once a week, sometimes twice. It’s usually doubles, and the other guys are over 70—one is 93. They don’t run very much—many have had hip transplants or other surgeries—but they can really place the ball perfectly after 60 years of practice. I love that I have to run around, and also the challenge of hitting a sweet shot. And within the last two months, I started playing squash. So I am now becoming physical in my late 60’s the way most males are in their teens and 20’s. Oh well, later beats never…

Tags: , , , , , , ,

How I Learned About Good Health

When it comes to good health, I know more about that than most. My father was a chiropractor in the days when his profession was regarded as laughable. I even fought in elementary school to defend Dad’s honor when classmates called him a quack. But I heard every night at dinner about new patients who had tried everything else, and they were finally stooping to going to a chiropractor as a last resort. And then Dad healed them or made them much better.

My father taught me a lot about what causes many illnesses and how to prevent becoming sick. My dad was unwell enough to be in bed just twice while I lived with him (my first 17 years) and twice after that. He lived to 88, and only needed surgery after being hit by a car.

I inherited his genes and am never sick–one day in bed in the last 25 years or so. I did have childhood things like chicken pox (when I was 21), and hepatitis that I contracted eating native food in Korea. But aside from some occasional colds and pollen and ragweed sniffling that now evaporates with anti-histamines, I am very very healthy. Much of that may be genetic or dumb luck. But some of that healthiness has to do with how I live and think. I will tell you about it as I describe my progress in sculpting IRA’S ABS…

Tags: , , ,

What This Blog is All About

My name is Ira, and I want to have a six-pack. I am 68 and have always been a strong believer in health and fitness. But I have disliked exercise most of my life, and only joined a gym for the first time two years ago — after I semi-retired. Finally I had time to firm up some flab, create some definition.

This blog will document and picture the progress I make with my abs. I also want to talk about my new sports efforts (tennis and squash), diet and good health. And through these activities, I will pass on some philosophy about living a life. All with a bit of humor and amusement.

In addition, I encourage readers of all ages to send in your own stories and pictures of making muscles, becoming more fit, and also more skilled and involved in personal sports. I believe your participation and advice about athletics and life will serve as a real inspiration to me and the site’s visitors.

As you can see below, I need a lot of work:



After two weeks of avoiding the gym.
This is 1 pm on April 4, 2009.

Tags: , ,