It seems that our kids are paying attention to what we eat.

Over the weekend we went to visit our friends at Ma Petite Maison in Port Orford, Oregon (I wrote previously about their beautiful place here: “A Taste of France on the Oregon Coast“). Port Orford is a tiny town with about 1100 people, no stop lights, a handful of restaurants, and a lot of virtually empty beachfront. It’s an exceptional spot to visit if you want peace, quiet, long uninterrupted walks on the beach, and more than just a little local quirkiness.

Port Orford has it’s share of 4th of July weekend activities not unlike most places: a morning parade of local groups ranging from muscle cars and fire trucks to a family of 4-wheelers with kids dressed in camouflage shooting high-powered squirt guns (I was not aware that this was a symbol of patriotism, but I now know better); a man who wakes the town each year by driving a truck around with loudspeakers attached, proclaiming, “GOOOOOOOOD MORNING PORT ORFORD. SEVEN AM ON YET ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL FOURTH OF JULY!”; A craft fair and quilting exhibition; a pretty good fireworks display, and a variety of weekend food-related activities.

I decided to get up early with my almost-6-yr-old and take him to a pancake feed that was being presented at the community center. I didn’t think much about the food that would be available; I was more interested in doing something just as father and son, since his little sister being a feisty 3-yr-old often grabs much of the family’s attention.

When we arrived, we stood in line for a while waiting for the food, stomachs rumbling and my son hopping on one foot from time to time. I eavesdropped that the griddles were not getting very hot, and thus the wait – but folks didn’t seem to mind. Eventually we were handed our Styrofoam plates which laid the foundation for pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a slice or two of ham. From all appearances, this is a reasonable meal – unless you are a 5-yr-old in Real Food training.

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Welcome to Almost Fit. This is a guest post from Erin at FitBottomedGirls.com. As scandalous as their site name may sound (OK I admit it, I’m talking to my parents here – really – I read it for the articles) their site is great for inspiration, always conveys information with a great sense of humor, and is an excellent resource for all things fitness. After all, any site where the slogan is, “Keeping a lid on the junk in the trunk” can’t be all bad. :)

My dog does yoga all the time. Her favorite poses are Downward Dog and Upward Dog. Predictable, no? It wasn’t until I started practicing yoga regularly that it really struck me as funny: my little pug, doing yoga. She’s much better at yoga than I am. She makes Down Dog look easy, but after all, she “invented” the pose, so you’d expect her to be a natural. Plus, she’s not holding it for minutes like I do. And I assume her hamstrings aren’t as tight as mine. I’m not sure dogs even have hamstrings.

One evening after a stressful day of work, I pulled out my yoga mat to do one of my old faithful Rodney Yee videos, an FBG fave. I gave the pug a bone so I could clear my mind and get my deep stretches without doggie distractions. My Zen didn’t last for long. As I focused on a transition from Staff pose to Cobbler’s pose, I heard a slight retching sound. She’d thrown up all over my yoga mat, destroying my theory about her love for yoga.

Since that episode, she’s never thrown up on my yoga mat again, so I’m assuming her yoga aversion was a one-time occurrence. Nowadays, she’s all up in my yoga business. She camps out under my Downward Dog, licks my leg during Warrior poses, and jumps over my legs during Cobra. She doesn’t discriminate. You name the pose, she’s in on the action.

I’m sure she’d love these new dog yoga classes that seem to be popping up. I’m not so sure that she would stay within the boundaries of the mat to really clear her mind and practice yoga, though. And it wouldn’t be relaxing for me. Instead, I’d probably be in a twisty pose while she ran off to practice Inappropriate Sniffing pose or Stealing Yoga Wedge pose or Running Demon pose. For now, I think we’ll stick to home yoga. At least then, when she pukes on a mat, I know it’s mine. 

Thanks Erin – I think it may be the first time that the word, “pukes,” has appeared on Almost Fit. Good going. In all seriousness, September is National Yoga Month – and worth your consideration. I am not a yoga enthusiast (yogist? Yogameister?) yet, but my wife is, and she loves it. She may convert me yet. But in the mean time while you hold your breath waiting for that to happen, check out FitBottomedGirls.com – it’s well worth the visit. And it’s safe for work.

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It was a tight race. With the help of some old school Oregon-style green sustainable strategy, 100% renewable solar energy on my shoulders, and the inspiration of a recent television bender in the form of an historic Olympiad, I did it – I pulled off the victory of the century for team Almost Fit.

I placed FIRST in the World’s most revered foot race.

You read right. A self-described dorky-looking white guy (alternately described by some as “portly and stout” – to whom I simply say, “racists” -), running with a camera bag, a cell phone, and a trusty moleskin notebook, took the Blue Ribbon in America’s fiercest competition of the season, bar none: The Iowa Avenue Virtual 5K - Portland edition.

To quote that eloquent icon of my youth, Sir D. Duck: MINE. ALL. MINE. Read the rest of this entry »

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Welcome to Almost Fit. Almost Fit is about losing weight and improving your health by eating real food in moderation. If you enjoy this entry, please consider sharing it with StumbleUpon. Thanks.

I found this fun little item over on Mark Salinas’ site, and thought I’d pitch my hat in the ring just for kicks. From Mark’s site:

“The site Very Good Taste posted a list of 100 things that they felt every good omnivore should try at least once in his or her life.”

I decided to share my list here – I was surprised at how many foods I’ve eaten. How about you?

So which foods have you eaten, or would you eat?

Copy this list into your blog, including these instructions.

Bold all items you’ve eaten.
Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.

Here’s my list – Have a look….. Read the rest of this entry »

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Life, these last couple of months, has been a gel-filled stress-ball’s squeeze-frenzied nightmare.

Here’s a little something about me: As I’ve said before, when the pressure is on, simple carbohydrates are my lifelong addiction buddies – the ones I hung out with when I was younger and more metabolically advantaged, and in whose company I dove head first into the shallow end of the dietary trouble pool. Simple carbs are the overly accepting old friends that I have to avoid if I want to “stay on the wagon” with real food.

Some people take a walk with Lassie to regain their center of gravity; I on the other hand, tend to take a drive to Taco Bell, hoping that they’ve finally figured out the Holy Grail of fast food: the lascivious matrimonial union of sugar, preservatives, hormones, antibiotics, and dirt-cheap meat.

Pulling around the finely crafted drive-thru arc of asphalt and concrete curb that says, enter dear friend, but know that there is but one way out, I think to myself: “What sweet and savory surprise awaits me on the shimmering ordering board this time, my old corn syrupy compadre? Is it a newly-conceived melding of steaming hot “cheese-ish” sauce, oddly and excessively chopped ground beef-like meat, and powdered jelly donuts? All wrapped in a freezer-burnt artificially-colored tortilla? Maybe I’ll be greeted by the hearty handshake of yet another Blast flavor of soda-lovin’-in-a-bucket, calling my name when I roll up to the crusty drive-thru microphone?”

I’ll go out on a limb here: If there is one place in the world that can stick just about anything into a tortilla and turn disgusting into sellable, it’s Taco Bell. Believe me.

So have I given up this whole real food thing? Am I now indulging in mystery beef bathed in succulent cheesy goo? Say it isn’t so! Read the rest of this entry »

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Ed. Disclosure: This entry is not really food related (well, dog food I suppose), but I just had to share it with my friends who are reading this site. Part of the purpose of Almost Fit is documenting my life’s changes as I lose weight and get in shape, and while this truly has nothing to do with that, it is part of my life… OK OK, I’ll admit it: that last sentence is what is called, “a stretch.” This has nothing to do with Almost Fit. But hear me out.

This morning I had a little reminder of just how old I am (at least I HOPE it is age related).

To buy dog food I generally go to the farm supply store, which I did this morning after I dropped Jonah off at preschool. In fairness I looked kind of haggard – I was up until 2AM last night working to make a deadline, as I have been doing for a week now, so this morning I skipped the shower before I left in favor of a few more minutes of sleep.

At the farm supply store, in the dog food area there was an average mid to late teens-looking girl, stocking the dog food shelves. Let’s call her, “associate.”

Associate: “Can I help you find anything?”
J: “[distracted] – Uh, no…I’m fine, I think I found it.”
Associate: “What were you looking for?”
J: “Well I came here for dog food, but Wow – there are Chicks here!”
Associate: [with a teen look of what-everrrr on her face] “Uh, OK…?”
J: “Man I’ve gotta bring my son back here, he’ll love this!”
Associate, silent, eyebrows raised and looking away, presumably reaches for her pepper spray…
J: “Oh and my wife too!”

Realizing the tension, I grab the dog food and leave quickly.

Here’s the thing: there were horse troughs, right there, full of baby chickens and ducks, cheeping and hopping away. You know, CHICKS? On my way out of the store, dog food in hand, I thought to myself that had I instead said Gallus Domesticus Infantus, maybe I would have sounded less creepy, but I think in general using Latin names is in itself it’s own veritable creep-fest.

Ah, to be old and crusty among the young and naive.

There’s your Monday morning story.

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