• How I Lost Weight … at Work

    I’m an itinerant scale-hopper. I jump on the one in the bathroom nearly every day. It’s part of the morning ritual. And over time it has told me things I already knew.

    Six-seven years ago, when it routinely recorded 200-plus pounds, it was telling me that I was letting the anxieties of shepherding a large news site through a time of tumult get in the way of finding time to take care of myself. Long hours, the always-on-ness that accompanies a news site in a big American city. It left me with little enthusiasm to eat right, exercise (and sleep) regularly—all the things you know you need to keep your life in balance.

    When I joined Rodale five years ago, the scale told a different story. I dropped more than 20 pounds in the first 6-8 months. The work culture was one that encouraged me to leave my desk and go to the gym. Or the basketball court. Or join others running and biking and … you get the idea. The cafeteria was cheap and the food was healthier than in my old place. And this was Rodale, so there was a pressure to do “the health thing” right—or risk calling yourself out as a hypocrite (which is way worse than having others do it; most of my defenses on those charges face outward, not inward). So I dropped to about 180 pounds, even a little bit less. My knees were very happy. I had a little burst in the hoops games. My ever-present tire around the waist went from a car tire to a bicycle tire—a mountain bike tire, certainly, not one of those skinny little road bike tubes from the tour de France. But progress.

    Over the next two years, I yo-yo’d between 180 and 190, usually closer to the high end of the scale. Until recently.

    I’m back down at 180-182, and I’m staying there. Wish I could say I’d gone on a big exercising binge, but aside from a lot of hiking in Yosemite a month ago, that hasn’t been the case. I’m active, but no more than before.

    And it would be great to say I’d reeled in my diet, but that’s not true either. Not so much food. I don’t overeat and I certainly eat more green and plants stuff than ever. The beverages are my difficulty: beer and soda. Love ’em both. I can drop one at a time, but never both. And most of the time, it’s neither. I easily carry 400-700 calories in liquid calories daily. It’s why I have to stay active just to tread water.

    Except I haven’t been treading water. I got lighter while doing what I’ve done for the past two years.

    So, finally, I asked myself, what’s up? And I realized, what’s up is me.

    As in, early this Spring I got a stand-up desk at work. The monitor-and-keyboard-tray, made by Ergotron, can be moved up and down, so I can work standing or sitting. At first, I spent maybe 2 hours a day standing. Now it’s more like 4-5. It takes some getting used to, and you find over time that there’s certain things you do standing (email, web searches) and others you sit (editing a longer story or sketching out a new way to manage the site).

    And that’s fine, because the amount of time I spend standing has been enough to kick my metabolism a little faster each and every day. And my back, which used to balk at sitting for long periods, is happy as a clam (if a clam had a pain-free back). And I am getting lots done and not minding the hourlong commute in the car so much when I stand a good bit of the time in between.

    If you’re interested in the science behind standing desks—and the risks of sitting all day, even if you’re otherwise active—read my former colleague Maria Masters’ piece called Sentenced to the Chair (or this 2009 warning from Paul Scott). And reach out to your HR department and ask what it would take to get a stand-up desk. It’s worth the trouble.

  • Beauty in the World

    Arabian horses have been bred in the deserts of the Middle East since the time of Muhammed. In fact, there is an “Al Khamsa” designation that attempts to draw a direct lineage to the Prophet’s own herd. Arabians were the mounts of Genghis Khan, of Napoleon, of George Washington.

    So it’s a little strange to find 10 of them frollicking on 11 acres in Douglassville, Pa. But friends there raise them. I saw them last night.

    They are beautiful. And gentle. And just a joy to be around. They seem so natural and right and true to themselves.

    And at the same time, it’s impossible to remove the hands of men, our influence, from the reality of these amazing creatures. Without men controlling the horses, domesticating them, feeding them, riding them, insisting on mates, molding them to be all leg and lung, these horses would be so much different. It has me thinking about the multitude of ripples that we all send out in the world, the way that control sometimes leads to great beauty, the way that invention plays out in flesh and sinew as well as silicon and steel and paint.

    And when I see these horses, all that falls away and I’m left with the simple appreciation for a creature in the moment—complex, capable, beautiful. Yes, beauty in this world.

    Mom, baby, and grandma
    Mom, baby, and grandma
  • All-Star Game

    I got tickets to the All-Star Game from a colleague at work (thank you, Eric Adams) and invited my brother Chris. The game was at CitiField, home of the Mets. We had a good time, though the game was pretty lame. We couldn’t remember the last time we had 10 hours all to ourselves, brother a brother. We’ll try to do it again, soon.

  • California dreamin'

    We got back on Monday night from 12 days in California—San Francisco to Yosemite to Sequoia to Hearst Castle, up the Pacific Coast Highway to Monterey, then to San Fran for a Giants-Dodgers game and the trip back from SFO.

    I’m sure there’s lots to say, but I think I’m going to have Virginia handle that. Here are the photos.

  • IMG_0814

    I like how it looks as if Pete’s bottom (red swim suit) is attached to Nick’s blue top.

    We had a good time in Atlantic Highlands for the holiday. The boys had a good time in the pool.

     

  • IMG_0781

    That was Virginia’s text to me, along with a screengrab of Pete and I, shown behind Phil Mickelson (above), right after he finished up the 18th hold of Saturday’s third round of the US Open. Phil was excited; he was in the lead heading into Sunday, if only by a single shot (it ended up not being enough, and he lost by two shots to Justin Rose). But it was thrilling.

    Pete and I had caught about 5 groups at the 13th, including Mickelson’s, when we headed off to the 17th. Rather than follow everyone else, we headed to the right of the 18th hole, and ran into a seeming dead end. But our VIP pass (thank you, Lexus!) got us past the course official and we found ourselves along a sparsely-occupied fencing right on the 18th hole. Pete looked at it and said, “I think we should stay right here.” So we did. I noticed the TV camera across from us, but it didn’t strike me that we’d be directly in its field of view. You’d think I’d be more savvy about the media, wouldn’t you?

    One nice thing about Mickelson was that, he was exiting the green for the clubhouse, which was only 50 yards away, when he walked past a young man in a wheelchair who had an obvious medical condition. Mickelson strode by, then stopped, and returned to the young man. He reached out, touched his hand to acknowledge him, then spun around on his way. The young man was overjoyed. Classy move.

  • IMG_0733I got a last-minute offer to grab some VIP passes to the US Open, which is being held at the Merion Golf Club this year, and Pete and I went (Kelly had to work).

    We had a good time. Beautiful day. Access to the Lexus VIP tent (where Pete met ESPN studio guy Scott Van Pelt). And at the end of the day, the passes scored us soem front-row spots at the 18th hole, where we watched all the leaders come in—though nobody did much of anything. No surprise there; it’s been the theme this year with a challenging course and not a lot of low scores.

  • All Tied Up

    Working at Men’s Health, I’ve often been struck by men’s emotional reactions when they find out where I work. They love the magazine. Been getting it for years.

    Within a couple questions, you realize that they really haven’t dug into it in years. Instead, it’s found a comfortable spot on their coffee table, and in their life. A patient crutch. An easygoing friend. Waiting for when they need it.

    Some will. Some won’t. And some will take it with them to the can, just as they have for the past 20 years.

    It’s a familiar ease. A relationship they’re willing to part with $25 a year to continue.

    It is, I’ve come to think, a kind of love.

    I’ve been working as a digital journalist for almost 15 years now, and one thing I’ve learned in that time is that people don’t, by and large, love web sites. They find them useful, or engaging, but more often frustrating.

    And until the advent of tablets, a web site didn’t sit on your coffee table. It didn’t wait, like a dog, for your attention to turn its way while you watched TV. It didn’t go to the can with you.

    It’s that ease and familiarity, that relationship in your home, that marks to me the difference between print and digital. And I think that it’s among the reasons people won’t, in most circumstances, pay for a Web site.

    I think of it in terms of physics, of weak ties and strong ties. Print is a strong tie medium. Digital is, usually, a weak tie.

    I purchase a print magazine for an experience. I visit a web site to scratch an informational itch.

    I don’t pay much to scratch.

    Increasingly, I’ve been thinking about how to convert all these weak digital ties into something stronger, more durable, more profitable. And I think the key is to transfer the relationship out of the theoretical, weak digital realm and back into the real world, into action.

    For publishers, the key is going to be to compel action from your fan base—including the act of reaching for one’s wallet, for an experience that you can’t find any other way. In that way, our business going forward is going to be relational, a matter of bringing individuals together with smart, charismatic thought leaders from every walk of life. Do that and people will pay you for making the match.

    Don’t, and you’ll be lamenting why you can’t turn your audience of millions into a business.

  • Summer photo #7

    Chrysler Building on a beautiful June afternoon, seen over Grand Central Station.

  • Summer photo #5

    Path through French Creek State Park, prepping for our hiking at end of this month in California.

  • Summer photo #4

    Dan John was a very special guest at work on a Monday. He’s one of the very best kettlebell experts in the world, but beyond that he was a great teacher. We spent four hours learning three exercises—yes, 3: The kettlebell swing, goblet squat, and Turkish get-up.

    When we were done, everybody was smarter, inspired, and sore. The last of those will fade away.

  • Photo of summer #3

    Virginia’s lunchbox, found when cleaning out her mom’s basement.