In Training

I haven't written much about my physical health in a while, suffice it to say that sitting for 9 hours a day, 5 to 7 days a week, takes its toll. The back aches, the eyes blur, and the... well, we'll leave it with back and eyes for the time being.

In any case, things are about to be shaken up in a few short weeks. I'm going to be unemployed! Huzzaaa... what was that again? Yup, after being extended from 4 months to 13 months at Disney, I am about to reach my last extension. Then the playing field changes, and for at least one month, I will no longer take my seat in the shitty chair with the corroding back support and the poor lighting that magnifies the deleterious effects of an otherwise thoroughly adjusted computer screen. Instead, I will fly to Spain. On a plane. To cross the plain. In the rain. AND NOT ONCE COMPLAIN.

I've had a hankering, ever since Junior year of high school, to embark down the French route of El Camino de Santiago de Compostela. For those unfamiliar, it's a roughly 500-mile pilgrimage route that starts (among many places) in St. Jean Pied-de-Port in France, traverses Basque Country and the high meseta, and settles into stormy Galicia, ultimately culminating at Cape Finisterre, considered in Medieval times to be the end of the world. Is it ironic that I finally have the time and resources to walk there in 2012?

This morning, I completed my first 14-mile training walk to test out my mettle and my Merrells. I walked from Glendale to Chinatown to Silver Lake and back to Glendale via Los Feliz. To my advantage, the weather was pleasant, the hills minimal, the way familiar, and the feet new to the experience. I completed the trek in four and a half hours, stopping along the way to watch a brown widow spider kill a caterpillar and to buy a lunch of my own. Mapquest told me I should have finished in 5 1/2 hours... Umm...

One of my constant concerns with my body is overdoing it. I've screwed up my shoulder doing weights and my hamstring during Capture the Flag (getting old sucks), and Vishnu knows I've had issues with the heat on the track. As I sit here typing this, I've been back for five hours. My fingers are no longer swollen, though my legs and feet are not used to this degree of walking. I managed to avoid blisters but did feel hot spots. I will probably wake up tomorrow and hobble into work as the stiffness sets in. I remind myself that this is training, but will the little training I can manage over the next few weeks suffice? I mean, I will be repeating this walk every day of the week for four weeks. Actually, I take it back; this will be a mid-length walk.

As much as the pilgrimage itself is about faith in general, I suppose it will also be a test of faith in my body. Lately, with all the sitting, I have begun to feel a lot older than my coworkers remind me, and I wonder if the Camino will make this better or worse. It then begs the question of what comes after? More sitting? Most likely... But, perhaps, I will one day find a place with better chairs and better lighting. Who knows for sure? Those are things to address on the long walk. In the mean time, it's time to rest and plan, rest and plan.

Easter Sunday

I can't remember what I did last Easter. I think I was staring at the screen, growling over my thesis and wishing I could be frolicking about like a bunny hopped up on chocolate creme eggs. Pun intended. Not being raised religious, Easter has pretty much been another time for presents and goodies, basically like Christmas and Halloween all in one (after all, the Easter Bunny scared the crap out of me). Fast forward a decade or so, and it's taken on new meanings, not the least of which being the end of my Lenten experiment.

I'll start with that first. How did my Lent go? Did I make it all forty days without processed sugar? No. What, Kyle? You caved? Not exactly. I had crazy nightmares about being duped into indulging in sugar, and I have a six-inch pile of deferred confections on my desk at work to prove it. Nonetheless, it is absolutely astonishing how sugary the American diet is. These were my three downfalls: salmon sprinkled with brown sugar, a chicken sausage flavored with maple syrup, and finally, and most diabolically, a piece of kettle corn deposited into my hand by a vendor at the Poppy Festival, and instinctively put into my mouth and chewed before I even realized what it was. Yikes, yikes, yikes.

Nonetheless, I learned a valuable lesson from this experience: that there is no pleasure in life that cannot be replaced by something better. Despite the onslaught of "I'm sorry," "You poor thing," "I could never do that," et cetera (notwithstanding the fact that this was my decision and not some punishment thrust upon me), I upped my fruit consumption, focused on improving the variety of my diet overall, and even starting to lose some of my sweet tooth. My gums have even stopped bleeding when I floss! TMI? Whatever! This is freaking awesome, and I have to call the bluff of anyone who says "I need my ___."

But aside from the physical aspect of things, the Easter holiday is based on the resurrection of Jesus and thus is a time for great celebration and hope for new life. This is an aspect I'd never associated with the holiday, so I decided I would go to a service today. Combining goals, I arranged to visit the Self Realization Fellowship Lake Shrine for a group meditation and service. Unfortunately, the website did not mention that the service would be canceled for the holiday and replaced by a much bigger, much earlier event. C'est la vie. Not to be daunted on this day of new life, I kept searching.

The temple garden, dedicated to religions of the world, is rightly hailed as one of the most beautiful in the state of California. Straight away, I found a lovely tiled bench on the lake shore, sat, and watched the fountain bubble, the turtles courting each other in the water, the ripples, the callas, and suddenly, the most miraculous thing happened: I was calm. The chaos that had filled my mind for the past few weeks was gone, replaced by that pair of turtles caressing each other's faces.

As I moved from the bench to the Windmill Chapel, I became aware of a new mentality. I felt free from the rush; I didn't have to go anywhere. I could just sit and listen. I could feel the air of bodies coming and going. I could hear their breathing. A woman entered behind me and began to talk but cut herself off. Normally, this sort of action in a quiet space would have irritated me disproportionally, but this time, I had only one question: What did she just discover that made her cut herself off? It's the sort of idea I'd entertained a few times before, but I'd never really felt before now that people can still discover, still wonder, if not about the same things that I wonder. It was the effect of the silence, stripping away the misanthropic cloud to remind me that I am among people, that I am one of them... that I belong with them.

As I left the chapel, feeling renewed, I reflected on that which truly fills me with wonder. Mist. Sunsets. Stars. Tears. And on thinking of them, the realization occurred to me that all the stress I'd put myself through, all the sacrifices I thought I was making for good, all the self-denial I'd made for the wrong reasons, did not matter. I did not have to do anything; the way I live my life is my choice. Then I came to understand the name of the place, and I left in peace on a bright Easter Sunday.

Sweet Tooth

I'm getting zombie teeth. You know the type, long, sharp, hungry for the brains of... well, maybe not the third level there, but I'm getting, as they say, long in the tooth. I'm 23; this doesn't normally happen until after 40. So what is the deal?!

Back in October (Around Halloween time... Ooo, zombies...) I wrote up my hypothesis for the digestive issues I'd been experiencing: that they were caused by the reawakening of a latent dairy allergy. This was quickly disproven by the fact that the issues persisted for a while, notwithstanding the use of orange juice for cereal (which is pretty darn good anyhow). Now, it's gone from the middle of the tract to the top, and I'm a little miffed.

It turns out that periodontal disease is pretty darn common, somewhere around 75% of adults get it. In this case, the gums recede until the roots are exposed and sometimes require dental extraction. Not my cup of tea. Oh, and by the way, it seems that the issue has intensified since joining the adult work force and upping my consumption of tea. Turns out, that's a factor. I've also been upping my sugar consumption. It seems that's not only a factor in my mouth but also in my gut. Excess sugar consumption feeds bacteria, which then produce toxins that can kill gum tissue and upset the stomach. Oh really? Tell me more! All that rigorous tooth-brushing I've been doing to massage the gums and clean up the teeth has actually been stressing out the gums even more! It's a zombie trio, and they've caught my chompers by surprise!

A couple of things will need to happen here. I don't think the tissue can regrow, but the shrinkage can be stopped. Fortunately, my smile (when I show it) is unaffected, but I really don't like the idea of going full-zombie. Fortunately, next week is the start of Lent, which gives me a great opportunity to give no processed sugar a test run. That means 40 days of no dessert. Yikes. This will require some serious creativity. I may even include 40 days of no tea and incorporate a new, softer toothbrush. At this rate, I can only hope that this plan succeeds where "no dairy" failed so miserably. Updates in April. Now if only I could find someone willing to consume all the sugary delectables piled up around my apartment...

Parkour

As part of my New Year's Resolution to mix up my athletic activities, I checked out a Parkour club in Santa Monica on Saturday. For those unfamiliar with the sport of Parkour, check out the following video:


Assuming someone actually stuck with my humble blog instead of searching for more videos of the like, I'll continue. Three days after the fact, I can still feel the three hours of leaping with some intensity. The most basic introduction to Parkour worked muscle groups I didn't even know I had, finger muscles, for instance. But what a workout.

By way of introduction, I and the other three newbies had to practice our kongs, or cat jumps. This introduction consisted of us running cat style across the grass. I don't mean scuttling around on all fours. I mean friggin' Sabertooth.


In any case, I never thought my body could move that way without strings; in many ways, it still can't. Nonetheless, this is one of the most essential moves to Parkour, especially when it comes to vaulting. One of the main elements to a kong (and one of the parts I had the most difficulty accomplishing) is the positioning of the legs inside the span of the arms, whereas I'm accustomed to the opposite. I was hesitant to try the technique while vaulting and instead opted for the side vault. It'll be something to work up to.

Shortly thereafter came the jumps, my favorite part. The most important part of the jump, I very quickly learned, is the landing, and boy, is there ever more to landing than just staying on your feet. It's all about moving with the impact to absorb it as much as possible, or to roll it. I hit it like a board, and I had to sit out for a bit. Nonetheless, I got the hang of some basic precision jumps (from sidewalk to low railing), and I absolutely loved the Tic Tacs, where we would use the momentum from leaping onto a stone obelisk to vault onto the upper stairs by the Santa Monica Pier. I won't lie that the excited tourists with their cameras did a bit for my ego, even though they were all focused on the advanced traceurs.

Honestly, taking into consideration the past few years of minimal-impact activity and the potential for injury jumping back into high-impact activity, I don't know how deeply I'll be able to delve into Parkour. Will I be able to do any of the flips? Will I dare? I think it may take a few years, but the other question is, will I have that kind of time and motivation? We will see. I had fun, the workout was great, and there is potential for a friend base. Next weekend is rain, but the weekend after, I may try it out again.

New Workout Regimen

One of the fun features of Asperger's is a tendency to set a routine and adhere to it viciously, and nowhere has this been better expressed than in my gym attendance in the past four years: weight training Monday through Friday, alternating push and pull. Occasionally, the thought occurs to me to change routines, and so I do. Then I continue that routine rigorously for months on end, long after it has lost most of its efficacy.

I'd like to mix things up a little more this year, chiefly because my body is screaming for more cardio and flexibility work. The years of weights have made me dreadfully stiff. So, here's a tentative new weekly schedule. It will probably fluctuate (in fact, I hope it does), but at least there's a basic structure to it.

Sunday
Stretching. Yoga, maybe?

Monday
Weights: Pushing exercises.

Tuesday
Weights: Pulling exercises.

Wednesday
Cardio: Running, jump rope, or whatever else comes to mind.

Thursday
Weights: Pushing exercises.

Friday
Weights: Pulling exercises.

Saturday
Cardio: Running and/or hiking.

Enter the Rabbit

It's that time again when the years shift gears, and the sights and sounds of the past make way for the hopes and fears of the future. This upcoming year, I seek to focus on the hope aspect as I make my Ass Burgery resolutions for 2011, the Year of the Rabbit, my year.

Bun
I want to keep exploring religious experiences and learn how to better understand and connect with the divine. This will mean being more open about religion with the people in my life and asking to attend services with them. I may start reading the Bible at some point in the year; I just need to figure out pacing.

Meat
I need to re-think my workout routine to incorporate more variety; instead of just doing weights during the week, it will be important to work on my cardiovascular health and flexibility. I'd like to find some new activity groups and take a class or two, if I can find one that is convenient and affordable.

Cheese
I want to make some more friends, and I want our friendships to be unmasked, which means cutting down mightily on the showmanship and focusing instead on reality and intimacy. I always vow to work on correspondence, but really, it's a struggle all the time. Surrounding all of these elements, I will be developing healthy boundaries to stave off the psychoses.

Lettuce
This will be the year I learn to love myself. This will involve taking more pride in my accomplishments, reflected on The To-Smite List, and really letting go of the past. I discovered a new technique for handling demons, which is to feed them rather than fight them. I look forward to putting this technique to the test and tending to my family of pet demons.

Tomatoes
I want to get a stable job and put my finances in order. I'm already taking steps toward this by creating a budget chart and investing in Personal Finance for Dummies. Learning to be aware of and to manage my bank accounts will be a revolutionary step toward responsible adulthood. Also, I want to train my focus so that I can finish my projects in a timely manner, while taking into account the fact that I do need to have fun here and there.

Onions
This will tie in with my demon work, but I want to learn to embrace my emotions instead of hide from them, both in my mind and in expression. I want to revel in both happiness and sadness.

Ketchup
I want to find someone who will treat me with respect, who can handle my light and my dark, and who will actually enjoy my devotion. I'd like to be in a relationship longer than three months.

Ah! Ooh! Ah!

My body is screaming this morning. No, not literally; that would just be weird. More like a rusty gate being blown by the wind. My back is stiff, my legs are stiff, my arms are stiff, and there is a large abrasion at the edge of my armpit. And I'm still just getting started with my 20s!

My friend/grasshopper suggested we go running yesterday. I thought this would be a great idea, because I've been slacking a little too much lately on the running front. We settled on Runyon Canyon at 1:00. Swell. Well, as it turns out, this Saturday happened to be the first of the month, which means that my running group goes to Santa Monica, which is one of those things I just don't miss. So I went, and nobody else showed, which meant that I got to choose my own run, about three miles across the sand (and through flocks of snowy plovers, which, I might add, are arguably the most adorably squeaky birds in the world). It was cold, but the beach was empty and the sand pleasantly squishy. I felt pretty good by the end.

By the time young Grasshopper and I arrived at Runyon Canyon, I still felt pretty good and even suggested that we take the steep trail, just for some extra hill work. The only problem was that the last time I had done these hills, I'd been hiking, not running. Big difference. It didn't take long for Grasshopper to hop ahead of me, perhaps fifty feet after the trailhead.

By the time we reached the top of the tallest cliff/hill, I was staggering with legs of Jell-O and lungs of dust. He was tired, but hardly doubled over and wheezing. He'd joined a marathon team, on my own recommendation, and clearly, it was paying off for him. By contrast, I've been running with this group for almost two years, and I've been getting less and less enthusiastic about it by the day. Why?

I joined the group solely because it was a gay group, intent on finding instant commonality and perhaps romance. Not so. After two years, I'm still regularly the youngest person in the group by ten to forty years. I'm still regularly the fastest person in the group. Once in a while, there will be a visitor who pushes me, but as was made painfully aware to me on the run yesterday, I have been slowing down, a lot.

I acknowledge that my competitive days ended in high school and that my passion for running has largely eroded away, yet the realization that I was the struggling old man, reluctant to take that second lap, hit me hard. I'm still sitting too much for work, driving to the gym instead of running, losing my flexibility, to the point that, although I will never be a medal-winning runner again, I miss the potential. I think that I need to seriously rethink my workout plan, i.e. find a new group with better workouts and faster, more passionate runners. I'll add that to the list of New Year's Resolutions, and maybe next year, the Year of the Rabbit, I'll be ready to face those hills of Runyon again and show that young whippersnapper what's what. First, though, some hot tubbing and an Advil may be in order. Ooh... Ah...

Updates and Thanks

It's amazing how quickly this last month has passed, and already Thanksgiving has swept on through like a turkey with a jet pack... and a lot of meth. Nonetheless, tardiness aside, I'd like to take a moment to express thanks for a month of multi-layered progress:

Bun:
- I'm learning to add the spi- to the -ritual.
- I'm discovering that a life of misery is not the will of God.

Meat:
- I have started to incorporate stretching into every workout.
- I am learning how to subsist on more than crackers and mashed potatoes.
- I have done the unthinkable and attained mastery of my domain.

Cheese:
- Having removed myself from Facebook, I am attracting more direct and personal relationships.
- I am practicing the principle of not letting the sun go down on my wrath.
- I am learning to handle confrontation and, once initiated, resolve it.
- I am removing the pressure to socialize, in favor of something more genuine.
- I am learning to communicate more directly and efficiently.
- I am taking further interest in the detailed lives of others.

Lettuce:
- In absence of a logical reason to be depressed, I've decided to be cheerful.
- I'm discovering the things I like about myself.
- I'm raising my awareness of my limits and flaws and addressing them directly.
- I'm learning to separate my past behavior from my current, progressive self, and thus stop the trains of thought at the station.

Tomatoes:
- I have started to take more regular breaks at work.
- I'm finding ways to make work more exciting, for instance, pretending that I'm the HR equivalent of Jack Bauer with limited time to sort 500 applications.
- I'm letting myself spend money.
- I'm planning ahead.

Onions:
- I'm discovering that subduing my emotions, then chastising myself for having subdued emotions, is stupid.
- I'm exploring my feelings of sadness and anger when I feel them, instead of trying to force them into the shape of delight.
- I am acknowledging my moments of happiness with the understanding that though they may not last, they are enjoyable.
- I am letting myself be moved by music.

Ketchup:
- I am again single, but I am shedding bitterness as I become more aware of how I approach relationships.
- I am working to resolve previous issues that have corrupted my perception of relationships.
- I am re-discovering "No" with the understanding that the right people can still say "Yes" a week after hearing "No."

Damn Thee, Dairy Demons!

I love my dairy. I frakkin' luuurve it. Give me yogurt! Give me cheese! Give me ice cream, sour cream, cream cheese, creamed corn, crême brulée! Let me slurp that sweetly crafted moo-moo teat-nectar! And lo, I shall low with the delight of a newborn calf.

I'll let that image burn itself into your brain for a wee moment... there. Moving on.

Halfway through a sumptuous Boston Market side of creamed spinach, I concluded that, as the cow must inevitably realize that the line it's following into a dark room does not lead to Splash Mountain, this bovine bacchanalia is over. Sorry, Bessie. My guts just aren't cut out to take it anymore.

I've contemplated vegetarianism before; I don't eat a lot of meat anyway, so as long as I could keep my eggs and cheese, I'd be fine. What? No cheese? No frakkin' cheese?! ¡Ay Dios, que no!

This can't be so. There must be alternatives. I tried rice milk for a while. It's not bad, actually, but good grief, does it have to come in such tiny, easily exhausted containers? I can content myself with sorbet and smoothies; I can eat my cereal with mango juice; but what about my cheese? I suppose there are imitations, but for someone so adamant about real things and no imitations, not to mention having a bank account that can't afford Whole Foods or 100% Organic, Hand-Grown, Vegan Ingredients, it's a suddenly daunting task.

Of course, it also raises the question of how to survive going out to eat. One cannot just order a salad when there are so many delicious delectables out there, waiting to be devoured. Yet, despite these drawbacks, the health is the priority, and a passable alternative must be uncovered. Whether an investment in Lactaid or just a long break from dairy will save the day, this certainly makes my meadows a bit darker. Time for some research. Yes... Research...

Introduction

I've found quite a few blogs written about Asperger's Syndrome, mostly by parents of children with the disorder, but surprisingly few actually written by those with the syndrome. While this may be great for parents, it sure doesn't help one's self esteem to be the subject of scientific scrutiny. Case in point: April is National Autism Awareness Month. Asperger's is an Autism Spectrum disorder. To me, that makes April "National Kyle Jarrett's Brain Is Royally Screwed Up" Month. Then again, that just doesn't have the same ring to it.

I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome in 2004, during a private meeting with a reputable psychiatrist. It may help to point out that I was not actually a part of this meeting, and that once my mom left the room and I had my own private meeting, the same reputable psychiatrist diagnosed me with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I knew there was something fishy right away: there should be a hyphen between "Obsessive" and "Compulsive," right? In any case, it wasn't until the winter of 2008 that I finally— Obsessive─Compulsive! Ahh... Now where was I?

Asperger's Syndrome is surprisingly easy to describe to the unfamiliar. Imagine yourself at a Christmas party, and clinking around the Christmas tree is a model train. While everyone else laughs, jokes, connects, and enjoys each other's company, your attention is on that train. Observe the awesome mechanisms that move it forward. Listen to the friendly sounds it makes: Whoo whoo! Notice how you never grow tired of watching it circle around and around, because it lets you turn off your brain and avoid the insufferable mundanity of conversing about jobs, weather, and alcohol.

The problem with this scenario is that humans are social animals, and Asperger's is a social disorder. National "Kyle Jarrett's Brain Is Royally Screwed Up" Month, Q.E.D. Apart from the feelings of alienation and despair, the disorder works in both directions and consequently, has pretty much made me into an ass. I get offended by light humor, condescending toward those who don't play by (or understand) my convoluted rules, and reclusive around those who try to disrupt my compulsive routines and regimens with a little social time. How my friends have stuck with me, I'll never know.

What I do know is that I'm tired of Asperger's. In fact, I quit. If Whoopi Goldberg can conquer dyslexia, then why can't I change April to National "Kyle's Brain Is All Right" Month? I've spent so much time putting the "ass" in "Asperger's" that the time has come to work on the other half: the "burger." To do so, I will need to focus on the following seven components: Bun (Spiritual), Meat (Physical), Cheese (Social), Lettuce (Personal), Tomatoes (Professional), Onions (Emotional), Ketchup (Romantical)

This shall be my accountability blog, on which I shall face my failures and mark my successes. I make no claim of professional expertise or any pretense of family-friendly content. My language will be expressive and sometimes crass, which, if you are from Utah, will offend. In that case, I say "grow some."

Now let's flip some burgers.