Beer O'Clock: Farm Boy IPA

Just because I'm no longer taking a dry month doesn't mean that I have to stop drinking non-alcoholic beer.

After I finished my Dry July challenge, I noticed how some of my tummy fat had gone away, despite the fact that I wasn't exercising as much as I should. And I started thinking that maybe, I was on to something.

Trust me, this doesn't mean that I'm giving up alcohol. But I have decided that, for the remainder of the year—perhaps longer—I'm going to seriously reduce my alcohol intake.

Not that I drink a lot under normal circumstances.

I've decided that I will allow myself a drink (or two) on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. The remainder of a week will be dry, the only exceptions will be if I'm on vacation (I'll be at an all-inclusive resort, in Mexico, for a week in December, and there's no way that I could stick to this rule!).

If I want something that resembles a cocktail or beer from Sunday through Wednesday, it has to be non-alcoholic. I don't set the rules... oh, wait, I do.

This means that if I want to review an alcoholic beer for Beer O'Clock, I have to do the reviewing on my drinking days. If I find myself on any other day and want something for my Thursday posts, the beer can't contain any booze.

Which brings us (finally!) to today's review.

At the end of July, I stocked up on a bunch of non-alcoholic beer that I discovered in my friendly neighbourhood Farm Boy grocery store. To my surprise, they had a good selection, including a few from one of my favourite Ontario breweries, Collective Arts. When I saw that CA had a non-alcoholic stout, I emptied the shelf, and that was the brew that I drank to finish off my Dry July.

But Farm Boy also stocked its own brand of non-alcoholic beer, including an IPA. And I became curious: how would this brew stack up to, let's say, the Collective Arts non-alcoholic IPA?

I'll review the Farm Boy ale today and the CA brew next week.

Now, Farm Boy doesn't say who makes their near-beer (actually, since NA beer has improved over the years, I have grown to dislike that term), neither on the can nor on their Web site, and a Google search yielded no help. So I'll give the grocery chain the credit.

IPA (less than 0.5% ABV)
Farm Boy
Ottawa ON (that's what the can says: surprised me!)

Appearance: pours an unfiltered pale yellow, resembling lemonade. The head was a foamy white that poured thick because I didn't tilt the glass but settled to a thin, solid lace.

Nose: fresh pineapple with a hint of orange citrus.

Palate: light pear with a slight bitterness, though I didn't detect any hops, and there's a watery, biscuity malt that is so easy going (almost like someone had dropped a hard tack in the glass and let it soften, or like an Arrowroot biscuit but not sweet). The body is extremely light and there's almost no finish.

Overall impression: there's almost nothing to this beer that makes me think of IPA. Perhaps Farm Boy put IPA on the can because those initials seem to sell beer. Yes, that's a harsh statement but if I had tried this brew in a blind tasting, I would have leaned more to a saison more than an IPA. It's missing the banana and mineral flavours of a saison but has a closer profile to that style than to an IPA.

That said, this beer tastes good. It's refreshing, light, and is perfect for a hot summer day. I would certainly reach for one again, despite its poor choice of name.

Beer O'Clock rating: this is a tough one. Because it doesn't resemble an IPA, I would tend to give it a 🍺, but because it's tasty and refreshes, and I liked the flavour, I would want to give it a higher score. So, I'll award it a 🍺.5.

(I have to come up with a half-pint image.)

Obviously, Farm Boy IPA can be found at the grocery chain by the same name. As it is owned by Sobey's, I don't know if that grocery store carries it as well or if it has the same brew under its own label. If you know, leave me a comment.

I'm looking forward to trying the Collective Arts non-alcoholic IPA, and I'll have it side-by-side with Farm Boy's version, for comparison.

Cheers!

The New Me

I had to poke another hole into my belt so that it would hold up my pants, rather than just hang around my waist like a fashion accessory.

My dress shirts hang somewhat loosely on me, now feeling oversized. Older shirts, that I haven't been able to button up without fear of sending the buttons popping off in all sorts of direction, fit me once again.

It's not a total transformation, as my stomach isn't exactly flat. But it's a healthy transformation, one that has me feeling better than I have in more than a decade.

Since I started my virtual challenges, in January, I've lost more than five kilograms. I've lost more more than two of those kilos in July.

Not only do I feel better, physically, I feel good, mentally. I think that some of this mental wellness also has to do with the fact that we're starting to turn the tide in the pandemic, where I can see myself willing to be out in public. Being double-vaxxed, myself, and seeing that the majority of eligible Ottawans have had their jabs, I'm not as stressed about going to the grocery store. DW and I have been to a pub patio, and there is a bit of feeling of normalcy.

I'm ready to start hugging again. If both of us are fully-vaxxed, I will forego a mask. If a friend has had his or her first jab, awaiting the next dose, I'll don a mask, ask them to cover up, and then go in for a squeeze.

I'm looking forward to my first social gathering, this upcoming weekend. And I like that, when I get together with others, I'll look better and feel better.

My Dry July challenge showed me what I can do without and what I really need  to watch. I knew that I could withhold on alcohol: I've done it several times in the past. I was really worried that chips would be too much to resist, but I did it. Going forward, I'll only indulge after I have burned the calories that chips will add.

I've discovered that I have a closet sweet tooth, so I really need to watch that I don't cave into it. It's weird that I was able to resist sweets before the challenge, and maybe I'll be able to do so again, now that they're not forbidden (but should really be regulated).

I'm continuing with my Conqueror virtual challenges. On Saturday, I finished the 1,332.5-kilometre Icelandic Ring Road, and yesterday, I began the next challenge, which is a 503K trek from Florence, Italy, to Vatican City, in Rome.

I start, virtually, of the front steps of the Basilica of Santa Croce, where I first visited in 2004 and saw again, from atop Giotto's Bell Tower, which famously stands next to the Duomo, when we returned in 2009.

My shot of Basilica of Santa Croce, Florence, in 2009.

St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City, 2009

In real life, I've been to both: I absolutely love Florence, have so many wonderful memories. It also is the home to the best pistachio gelato in the world. The second-best gelato is here, in Ottawa, at Stella Luna Gelato Café. And, as part of my current St. Francis Way virtual challenge, I plan to cycle to the Stella Luna location, in Merrickville, where I'll treat myself to a scoop of pistachio gelato, before I cycle back home.

It's about a 116K round-trip ride, so I'm confident that I'll easily burn off those calories.

Yes, I like the new me. The trick, going forward, will be to keep this new me.

I'm up for that challenge, too.

Off The Wagon

I honestly thought that chips would be the first thing that would break me down and tempt me into eating. I'm a savoury sort of fellow and chips will draw me in every time. But no, I've resisted the mighty crunch of a potato chip.

I had no fear that I would be drawn into cracking open a can of beer, even though I was still ordering from local breweries. The cans were simply placed in my mini-fridge, chilling until August 1.

Even when DW tried a new cider, made with added Pinot Noir wine, and held her glass out for me to have a sip, I stayed true to my commitment. "Buy more and I'll have some in August. But it sure smells good."

The truth is I don't often crave anything sweet. I like baked goods and the occasional soda, and love chocolate, but I typically have them only when they are offered. I don't go looking for sweet things when I want a treat.

I broke down, the first time, in my Dry July challenge, after one lunch, when I was looking for something to munch on. It was early into my challenge. DW and the kids had all kinds of baked goodies in the house: a lemon meringue pie and all sorts of cookies, all within eyesight and arm's reach. I had resisted.

But when that craving hit and I was close to some fortune cookies that we had left over from a Chinese food order a week or so earlier, I helped myself to one. And, as fate would have it, the cookie came with no fortune inside.

No luck for me.

When DW and I were driving home, after our camping and kayaking trip in Algonquin Provincial Park, we realized that we hadn't had lunch and were starving. After all, we had only eaten instant oatmeal for breakfast, before paddling back to the High Falls water slide for one last ride, returning to camp, packing up, and paddling back to Achray Campsite, where we loaded everything back into and onto our car.

When we approached Petawawa, we decided to make a stop for a late lunch/early dinner. We found a place, The Shed, which made Halifax-style donairs.

Perfect.

I ordered a small donair and DW ordered the donair poutine, and we were asked if we wanted something to drink. I had planned to drink the water that I had filtered out of Stratton Lake, but our attention was drawn to a small fridge that advertised various flavours of Newfie Crush, which were only available from Newfoundland.

My eyes fell on a pineapple Crush, and I couldn't resist.

"I've burned far more calories today than I've taken in," I told DW, "I deserve this."

Man, was it sweet.

As an additional sign that my body craved calories after an active morning, I wolfed down my Halifax donair and helped DW with her generous amount of poutine. (The Shed is a little treasure in Petawawa: highly recommended.)

The next day, DW rose early and went to Farm Boy to get some groceries. She returned with a package of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls.

"Screw it," I said when I saw them, "I've cut a lot out of my diet and have been good for the most part. I should have only said I wasn't drinking alcohol in July, or just not eating potato chips. I've lost nearly three kilos this month." I reached into the package, pulled out the cinnamon bun, and scarfed it down.

I then went to another package that contained sugar cookies and ate two.

When I fall off the wagon, I fall hard.

I felt awful afterwards and stuck to water until dinnertime. I cycled more than 40K before dinner, trying to burn off those unwanted calories.

I can finish my Dry July challenge with the knowledge that I held off on alcohol and chips, lost a good amount of weight, and shrunk my belly. The even-bigger challenge, moving into August, is ensuring that I don't put the fat back on.

I need to earn any non-essential calories.

How I Did

I meant to send this post out a week ago, after I had completed my Dry January challenge and could resume sampling some amazing craft beer.

Though I didn't consume any alcohol in January, I did drink plenty of alcohol-free beer. As I said in a Beer O'Clock video post, Partake Brewing, in Toronto, makes some pretty decent beer for those who are abstaining from alcohol and also don't want to load up on calories from soda (the beer is only 10 calories per can!). I reviewed their pale ale, but they also make an amazing stout that I loaded up on at Broue Ha Ha in Gatineau.

Staying away from booze was not a challenge for me: I've gone dry many times over the years without breaking a sweat. The goal for me was to see if that cutting out the extra calories would reduce my waistline. I also challenged myself to cutting out sugar and to avoid the types of food that I love, but don't need.

That part of the challenge was hard.

One evening, DW cracked open a box of Christmas cookies, and though I resisted at first, she said "one cookie isn't going to kill you."

We devoured half of the box.

I also caved in on a stressful day at the office, when I was putting out a bunch of fires, and a Ganong Pal-o-Mine bar that I had stashed in a drawer kept calling my name. I gave in: at first, only eating one of the two pieces of chocolate-covered, peanut fudge. An hour later, the other half was gone.

The various states of demise.

I always considered myself to be more savoury than sweet, reaching for the potato chips over chocolate. While I was able to resist the bags of chips that the family brought into the house over January, I found that my dormant sweet tooth was something I just couldn't hold off.

I also cheated in the final week with a handful or two of chips.

But despite these transgressions, I managed to get in at least a half-hour of workouts and was in bed by 10:30 on weeknights. I did see my belly shrink and didn't feel as bloated. As January wrapped up, I felt healthier.

We're now well into February. In the first week, I have had four pints of beer and two small measures of Scottish malt. I still strive to get to bed at a decent hour, and think before I put something in my mouth (everything in moderation, right?).

So, I wasn't perfect in January, but I did okay. I'm not about to make major lifestyle changes but at the same time, I'm going to reduce the amount of extra calories that I ingest.

I have an ultimate goal: in September and October, I'm going to be doing a lot of cycling. DW and I are participating in a 100-km ride with some friends in Prince Edward County. A week later, we're buying a couple of touring bikes in Amsterdam, the Netherlands, and will cycle nearly 300 kilometres to Bruges, Belgium. A week after that, we'll cycle the Mosel River, in Germany from Koblenz to Trier.

I want to be fit.

And Dry January told me that if I stay on target, I'll get there.

Now, pass the chips!

Dry January

More than 25 years ago, in the early to mid 90s, I made my last New Year's resolution: it was to never make a resolution again.

So far, I've kept that promise.

A year ago, a Twitter friend of mine made a resolution to cut drinking for the month of January, to follow the challenge that is known as Dry January. But at the end of January, she continued to abstain from alcohol and today, she remains a teetotaler.

She's also started running, and has chosen a healthy lifestyle that has seen her lose 75 pounds.

Though we have never met, I have held her as an inspiration for living a healthy life.

Over the past few months, I have noticed that I haven't been eating well and have practically cut out exercise from my life. I have seen my gut expand to what I feel is embarrassing. When I view my video of DW's and my Mexican vacation, and I see myself snorkelling and exploring cenotes without a shirt, I feel disgusted.

In December, my Twitter friend was interviewed on CBC Radio, and she discussed her changes and fitness, and how it all started with last year's Dry January. She admitted that she drank more than she should have, and how much better she feels for giving up the booze, especially with her weight loss.

I don't drink a lot and I don't consider giving up alcohol for a month to be a challenge, but I am motivated to see my belly shrink. And so, as of January 1st (actually, I didn't consume any alcohol on New Year's Eve), I have decided to accept this challenge to see how much weight I can lose by leaving my beer and wine in the basement for the month.

But giving up booze isn't enough to work off my fat. And so, I've also decided to cut sugar out of my diet, as well as any foods that I don't 'need.'

No cream in my coffee: the same goes for sugar.

No desserts.

No potato chips (this one is going to be the hardest).

No fast food.

Of course, cutting out food is just the start. I have also committed to performing a minimum of 30 minutes of stressful activity every day. On New Year's Day, I did a lot of house cleaning, in which I went up and down the stairs 18 times over the course of 72 minutes. Yesterday, I shovelled the wet sludge that the snow plow had left at the end of my driveway, which took 36 minutes and left me covered in sweat.

It wasn't a treadmill or spin bike, but both tasks were a workout that got my heart pumping.

With two days under my belt, so far, I've not had a drop to drink, even though my parents came over for a movie night on New Year's Day and brought beer. My father had the beer: I drank club soda. I've eaten healthy choices, and though DW made crepes for breakfast, yesterday, I only added pineapple and raspberries (natural sugars are okay) and skipped the maple syrup.

As I was writing this post, DW and DD16 were in the next room, watching Netflix and eating chips. I fought the urge to help myself to their bag.

On New Year's Day, I weighed myself for the first time in months: I am the heaviest I've ever been, at 81.2 kgs. I'm not a tall person, so I am clearly overweight. At the end of the month, I'll share my weight, and if I've made significant improvement, I'll share the results.

And though I'll resume enjoying my beer, I'll make sure that I've exercised enough to counter the calorie intake. But I may continue cutting out sugar and avoiding junk food.

One promise to myself is to continue working out. I've committed to a 100-kilometre ride with some friends, and I'd like to be able to look at myself in the mirror, and not shudder.

This is not a New Year's resolution. Dry January just happens to fall at the time that most people make resolutions. I've been inspired by a friend, and I'm tired of feeling tired all the time.

I want my old body back. Dry January is merely the catalyst.

Dry

I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

I stood on the bathroom scale, before my usual Sunday morning swim, expecting the news to be bad. Last week was an anomaly, I told myself. I wasn't about to repeat it. And if I did, I should be concerned: it was a lot of weight to lose in one week.

The scale said I had lost 0.6 kilograms, just under one-and-a-half pounds. Not bad. That put me at just under two kilos in two weeks. I was on track to lose 10 pounds in four weeks, my goal for my trip to Mexico.

Last week had been rough. A migraine on Tuesday, where nothing was done, let alone a workout. I walked a lot on Wednesday, climbed a lot of stairs, but didn't really exercise.

Thursday, I went to the gym, tried my hand (actually, my legs) on an elliptical trainer for the first time. I went for an hour and almost killed myself: my back and left hip throbbed all night and I could barely walk on Friday. I took it easy and took lots of pain pills.

It seems that in my zeal for recovery and fitness, I overstepped my abilities.

By late Saturday, I felt ready to get back at it, but I wasn't going to overdo it on one machine. I returned to the elliptical trainer, but only for 20 minutes (though my smart watch only recorded 16 minutes). I climbed on a spin bike for another 20 minutes, and then took to a rowing machine for a final 20 (though, I forgot to stop my watch for about five minutes).

I deserved a beer for my hard work, I told myself as I left the gym, but when I got home I had changed my mind. I didn't want empty calories, I told DW. Instead, I drank a couple of cans of club soda.

No calories.

So there I was on Sunday morning, standing on my scale, looking at my new numbers. While I was pleased that my weight had continued to drop, it wasn't by as much as I had hoped for.

Back to the gym, for a 1,000-metre swim. I started using my legs more and shaved two minutes off my record time.

I deserved a beer today, I said again. But again, when I got home, I couldn't bring myself to having one.

Today is the ninth day since I've had a beer. Had any alcoholic beverage, that is. I've started thinking about my last Beer O'Clock post, and about how I've unintentionally taken a hiatus from my beer reviews. Last night, before going to bed, I looked in my beer fridge, a mini cooler in our basement.

Three cans of beer. That's all I have. Two cans from the last brewery I visited, one can from when I was at Stray Dog's anniversary celebration. That was when I told myself that I would start visiting all of Ottawa's breweries and come up with a list of my favourite five or 10.

I've run dry.

I'm faced with a dilemma: I desperately want to shed the gut that ballooned when I was recovering from my foot surgery. My incapacity had also kept me from getting out over the winter months, and I vowed to return to my beer blogging when I was more mobile. I want to start revisiting breweries but I want to limit my beer intake—something that contributed to my gut over the years.

While my ability to lose the weight is more or less on track, I have been pleasantly surprised about how much fat has vanished from my waistline. I want to keep up my good work.

I think I'll try to harden my willpower even more. I've said goodbye to chips and snacking between meals. As hard as it's been, I've resisted the free snacks that my office kitchen supplies (those giant cookies are tasty but the 400 or more empty calories aren't worth it).

I'm going to start revisiting the breweries, but I'm going to limit myself to a maximum of two pints per week. Which means that I'm going to have to choose the beers that I'll review, wisely.

It's been a dry spell during my fitness regime. It doesn't have to be.

Beer O'Clock, with any luck, returns Thursday.

Fitness Regime

I would never call it a "diet."

After being relatively inactive for about three months, I noticed I was out of shape. My gut, which has been with me for a few years now, seemed noticeably bigger: I've gone from looking like I'm five-months pregnant to seven. My face, which has been showing its age more and more, had chubby cheeks and jowls.

I would see photos of myself and think, you are one ugly slob, dude.

I didn't like the way my overall mass was increasing but more to the point, I hated how it made me feel, both physically and emotionally.

A couple of weeks before my doctor gave me the green light to stop using my cast, DW and I would go swimming on Sunday mornings. With my cast, it was a bit of a challenge as I would hobble into the change room and strip down to my swim suit. DW would lock up our belongings and I would use my crutches to get to the pool. Once I was in, DW would carry my crutches to the side of the pool and lean them against a wall. She would bring them back to me after I finished my laps.

The first week that I tried swimming, I only had enough energy to complete 500 metres. Not bad, considering I hadn't been in a pool in more than six months. Once back home, though, I was exhausted and needed a nap.

With subsequent swims, I was able to extend my workout to 800 metres—half a mile. Not bad but I knew I was capable of so much more.

With our upcoming trip to Mexico only five weeks away, I made a promise to myself to drop some pounds and reduce the excess flab. At that time, I weighed 78.5 kilos—the most I've ever weighed. I vowed to work to lose about four-and-a-half kilos (10 lbs) by the time I left for the Mayan Riviera and an additional 4.5 kg by the time I left for South Korea.

Last Wednesday was the official start to this fitness plan. I set a goal with my Samsung Health app and started off slowly, doing basic stretching exercises that focused on my core. I also started riding my spin bike again: just 15 to 20 minutes at first, to make sure my foot could handle it. While I can't stand and peddle, I can ride at a steady pace with a moderate amount of tension on the wheel. I've ridden twice for 40 to 45 minutes each.

I'm watching what I eat, and though I mostly eat a fairly healthy diet, I've focused on moderation—smaller portions and no unhealthy snacks between meals (say goodbye, potato chips). I've only consumed two pints of beer all week.

Last Sunday, I managed to get in a full kilometre swim. I felt great. Even in the last 25 metres, I gave a strong front crawl without feeling tired. When I entered the stats for the workout into my phone app, it remembered my past swims and told me that this had been my fastest 1,000 metres ever.

Good workout and a record time. I felt good.

But the best part of my first week of working out came when I stepped on the bathroom scale. I had lost 1.3 kilos. That's nearly three pounds. Already, looking in the mirror, I can see where some of the fat has left my face (not all of it, but there's a start).

I feel motivated to continue. I've pulled out my Total Gym, dusted it off, and added it to my regime. I'm going to try to find the time to fit a second swim into my week. As my foot feels stronger and my flexibility improves, I'm going to use the rowing machine and elliptical trainer at the gym.

I'm now fewer than four weeks from my Mexican vacation. With this fitness regime, hopefully I'll feel fit to spend hours snorkelling with the sea turtles and will have the confidence to wear my swim suit in public without feeling self-conscious about my belly.

Fingers crossed.

Please Hold Your Bets

Now that the Thanksgiving dinner is over and done, and the weekend of gluttony is behind us, Lori and I have noticed that the lean bodies we had at the end of our canoe trip are a distant memory.

Not that we're fat or anything. And I, for one, haven't noticed any weight gain on my wife. When she told me that she's started packing it on, I denied it with a "Honey, you look great to me."

That's me, the brown-noser.

She recently told me what our bathroom scale read to her when she stepped on it, and I told her that it must be broken. And then I stepped on the scale, and I feared that I may have been right, that the scale was, indeed, broken.

But the scale isn't broken. We're seeing numbers that, while not astronomical, are higher than either of us would like to see.

And so we've started a challenge.

In the next eight weeks, I have to lose about 15 pounds; Lori, 10. We've started using our calorie-counting and fitness apps on our iPhones. We're avoiding the chip aisles at the stores and have started going for walks.

I'll be hitting the gym this weekend and will start cycling again, something I haven't done in more than a month. Because not only have we made this a challenge, we've made this a competition. The person who comes closest to his or her goal (percentage-wise) by mid December wins $200, which he or she can spend on whatever.

Game on.

My Keys to Fitness

Six weeks ago, I started a fitness regime to help me lose weight. On my last visit to my doctor, he remarked that my cholesterol level shot through the roof, but he also noticed that I had gained some weight.

He made no bones about it: he called me fat.

When I visited him, I weighed 175 pounds. That was 10 pounds more than I weighed the last time he saw me, when he told me that I could stand to lose 10 to 15 pounds.

I now found myself with 20 to 25 pounds to lose. And so I got serious and started thinking about what I was going to do to lose the weight.

The first thing I focused on was my diet. I cut out snacking between meals. No more chips. I also decided that I wouldn't eat after 8 pm. And I would reduce the size of my meal portions.

I downloaded an app on my iPhone to keep track my caloric intake and keep track of my weight-loss progress. I use MyFitnessPal, which gives me a daily caloric allowance—I have a daily allotment of 1230 calories. The app has a vast database of natural and prepared foods, and I can even scan a barcode on a package to determine the calories. When I exercise (and I'm getting to that), the app calculates the calories that are burned and adds them back to my daily total.

So, while 1230 calories doesn't sound like much, the daily total goes up with every activity.

The second thing I focused on for my weight loss was a regular fitness regime. Every day, I need to perform an activity that makes me sweat for at least half an hour.

Now that we're into fair weather in Ottawa, I cycle to work once or twice a week, usually Tuesdays and Fridays. My cycle route takes me anywhere from 47 to 55 minutes, depending on the wind, to cover the 20 kilometres to get to work. On the way home, it takes a little longer because it's largely uphill and the wind almost always seems to be against me. The ride home generally takes about an hour.

On my cycle commute, I burn at least 700 calories. Not too shabby.

On the days that I don't cycle, I walk a three-kilometre circuit in the neighbourhood around my office. There are steep elevation changes, making it a challenging hike. And I really motor: my fastest time was this Monday, at 26:56. At that pace, I almost broke into a run as I swept down a steep section!

Last weekend, I cycled a 48-kilometre loop around the city, which I now plan to do early every Sunday. With a few tweaks to the route, I plan to stretch it to a round 50K.

Again, I use my iPhone to track my walking and cycling workouts. For this, I use Cyclemeter. It's a fantastic app. It uses GPS to track my pace and provides my overall time, average speed, fastest speed, fastest kilometre, calories burned, and more. It uses Google Maps to give me a satellite image of the area, with my route marked out, showing the kilometres divided up. I can click the kilometre to see what my average speed was for that segment.

The app also talks to me, so if I save a route, it periodically tells me whether I'm ahead or behind my best, median, or worst time. I know the voice is going to come through my headphones when the volume of the music that I play drops: it resumes the playing level once the message is delivered.

My favourite feature is the e-mail notification. When I tap Start, an email message is sent to me and anyone I want (Lori also gets the message). A second message with my stats is sent when I tap Stop. But the cool thing is that when Lori receives the first e-mail, she can click a link any time through my run to see the map, with my route so far and my location within the last five seconds.

So if I don't check in when I'm expected, she can locate me.

It's been six weeks since I started my weight-loss regime, watching what I eat and exercising daily. So far, so good. In the six-week period, I've lost 12 pounds. That's two pounds for each week, so far. During the week, my weight fluctuates, but at the end of each week, when I do my weigh-in, I have seen a significant loss.

I feel it in my gut. I see it in my face. Lori and the girls even notice that I'm in better spirits. If only I could get more sleep: imagine the changes in me.

I'm about halfway to my desired weight. I anticipate tougher challenges as I drop below the weight I've been carrying for years. As my flab turns to muscle. Ultimately, it's not the numbers I care about, though I strongly feel my goals are attainable.

I have my next blood test next week. I'm hoping that my cholesterol scores from last time were a glitch. I expect a significant reduction.

And I see my doctor in five weeks: if I can drop another 10 pounds, he won't call me fat.

He'll call me phat!