Mens Health

Monday, 22 February 2010 00:00

Written by auncfan

(2 votes, average 4.50 out of 5)

Two years ago, I was miserable. A cranky back had taken away my ability to play basketball and softball (recreationally). My kids were getting older and more active and there wasn't a whole lot that I could enjoy with them. In addition to that, those 5 to 10 pounds I had been adding every year were finally starting to show. Mentally I was frustrated and physically, I was exhausted. In the meantime, my wife was running full and half marathons with regularity. Did I mention I was miserable?

A close friend is the Strength Coach for a major University where we live. He's a pretty big dude. So when you get a phone call from said friend and he says "let's go for a run", you generally listen. After several excuses went unaccepted, I laced up an old pair of ~~grass cutting~~ running shoes for a ~~quick~~ jog around the block. I have never run in my life. If there wasn't a basketball, football or softball involved, I saw no point in putting one foot in front of the other at a rapid pace. Ever.

As we completed our first stroll around the block, I thought my chest, lungs and head were going to explode. Pride kept me from acting like it was brutal, but it was brutal. He called again a few days later and we made another lap around the block. Before I knew it, our wives (who are both runners) had signed us up for a 4 mile race on Thanksgiving Day. If you're like me, that little competitive fire inside kicked in. Once I realized we couldn't get our money back, I knew I had better get serious about this thing. I'm too competitive to stop and walk for a 4 mile race so I knew I had to get in shape. What has transpired since that day is a bit of an addiction to running. So why do I post this?

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The Me in Me and the Me I See

Tuesday, 16 February 2010 13:10

Written by Mr. Man

(2 votes, average 4.50 out of 5)

Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis I stumbled into the bathroom this morning, drunk from a restless sleep the night before. I walked gingerly across the cold, wood floors.

I rubbed the crust from my eyes and take a look in the mirror for what seemed like the first time. What I saw caught me by surprise…

There was a middle-aged man staring back at me.

Who is this guy? I think to myself as I rub my eyes again. Maybe I’m

dreaming. I look again and this dude is still there. He has a full, round face. Gray hair growing in his mustache and the stubble of a beard grown overnight. He is in decent shape for the most part with the exception of the spare tire wrapped around his mid-section. His receding hairline is beginning to show as his normally clean-shaven head begins to fill in again.

I stare at this aging man for more than a minute. I slowly realize that I am looking at my reflection.

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Potbelly is the New Washboard Abs

Friday, 14 August 2009 13:57

Written by papabradstein

Dude, the only thing I don't like about articles like this one is that I didn't read it before I did my morning ab workout. I knew I should have gone straight to the couch with a bag of potato chips and the laptop rather than onto my back on the hard, cold floor with a glass of water.

Speaking of potato chips, I do think I'll have myself another handful now. Hell, and another beer while I'm at it. If I weren't a vegetarian, I might even grill up a nice fat Italian sausage to go with that...and then wrap it in some bacon before I ate it.

Mmm.

And then, for dessert I'd have a stent with a side of bypass surgery.

Seriously, who are they kidding? Men started caring about their figures because they wanted to score some chicks? OK, that's always on our minds. We are guys, after all.

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Sperm, sweat and longevity

Thursday, 06 August 2009 09:09

Written by papabradstein

oldman Good news for those of you with healthy swimmers--you're likely to live longer than the guy next to you whose sperm are not so robust, according to this Danish study. While this is good information--and welcome news for men who are loaded with schools of Michael Phelps-esque swimmers--there's no information on how a man could determine the liveliness of his potential progeny on his own.

I suppose that one could test using the oldest method--try to make a baby. If that measure is accurate, I should live to about 826 because it appears from both of our pregnancies that if I just look at Mama sideways, she gets pregnant.

As for those of you who are just a little curious, but not that curious--no idea how you run this test. Well, I've got some ideas, but I'm trying to keep this family-friendly here. Many of the ideas involve working up a sweat, but if you work up too much of a sweat, it may not matter how healthy your swimmers are, because excessive sweating could be a symptom of a more serious condition.

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Parenting is a Marathon

Tuesday, 28 July 2009 21:58

Written by papabradstein

Parenting is a marathon This week,

I realized that I ride my bike 90 miles per week commuting.
A stranger who I consider a good friend announced his divorce.
A coworker observed that a marathon is easy to run until you stop.

Somehow, all of this coalesced in my mind to change my perspective of parenting--specifically, to change my perspective of myself as a parent.

I have a tendency to focus far too closely on what's directly in front of me, or at least within arm's reach of me. When events are flying at me fast and furious, my focus becomes ever shorter. At busy or stressful times, my consciousness shrinks into a tiny world, encompassing only that which I need to get from this moment into the next.

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