This Time I Mean It

Getting Past What Holds You Back with Baby Boomer Weight Loss Expert Scott 'Q' Marcus

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The Only Path Forward

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My son, half my age at 32, asked me if I can remember a time when things were “this bad.”

“No,” sadly I replied. “We seem to be at a new low.”

Later that week, speaking with an octogenarian friend, I posed to her the same question. Her reply was the same as mine. “No, we seem to be at a new low.” Should I ask someone celebrating 100 years on the planet, I fear the response would not change.

We might disagree as to the definition of “bad” — or even “things” — but I am convinced we’re all in agreement: Colloquially stated, “What a freakin’ mess!”

At the risk of harshing your mellow, let’s examine a couple specifics:

  • After observed the most divisive Supreme Court nomination process in history, one might argue we are also witness to the fabric of our nation being ripped asunder. Not only have we have drawn lines in the sand, we have fortified them with cement, and constructed walls to prevent passage from anyone of differing views. More than one political observer has postulated that our country’s temperament is akin to the mid 1800s (sic), prior to — and triggering — the Civil War. There are many who offer that “this great democratic experiment” is sunsetting; our future looking like George Orwell’s classic novel, Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Hang on, that’s not the worst news.

  • The UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, in what many consider a moderate perspective, implores “urgent and unprecedented changes” are needed NOW to prevent global warming from climbing over 1.5º Celsius (2.7º Fahrenheit) by 2030. Should we continue on the path on which we now find ourselves, expect an uptick of approximately 3º C (4.5º F) resulting in major cities flooded; island nations wiped off the face of the planet; extreme droughts and heat waves; insect infestations; and wars over water and food — um, just to name a few. Yes, the planet will carry on – but it will become close to inhospitable.

I could – as I’m sure could you – site countless more illustrations, yet once one has enumerated the end of humanity as a potential outcome, everything else seems, well, somewhat inconsequential.

Yes, things are indeed bad.

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Walking a Minefield: Tribute to Friend

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It’s been said the difference between depression and grief is that the former seduces, while the latter attacks.

Whether it’s delivered by phone, direct conversation, email, or – ever more prevalent these days – via social media; the effects remain the same. Word blasts you in the solar plexus as a surprising sucker punch. A tsunami of shock flooding away whatever thoughts had been active the instant prior, blood rushes from your head, you stagger slightly, and then the awful reality of the moment clamps itself firmly on to your psyche, a rabid dog unwilling to let go.

Shake it as you might, the jaws of grief hold tightly; the only effective tools to pry loose its pincers are acceptance of this new horrific, hurting actuality; and patience, allowing time to apply — however slowly — its healing salve.

Looking back on the twisted road that to date has been my life’s journey, one of the main thoroughfares on which I’ve traveled has been my involvement in the media.

Starting as a college DJ at UCLA, I spent decades on the air and behind the scenes, eventually ending up as a media coordinator and consultant (among other jobs). There was an expression among “air personalities” back then: “You can tell the success of a disc jockey by the size of the trailer attached to his car.” Between the years of 1977 and the early eighties, I had no fewer than nine addresses. Tribes of nomads were we, wayfaring across this vast land, U-hauls in tow, pursuing larger audiences and higher wattage, mostly in pursuit of the Holy Grail of prime time on a clear-channel 50,000-watt blowtorch.

Some found it. Most took a detour — as did I, ending up on the Northcoast of California in 1983 to program an AM/FM combo. My original plan? Stay among the redwoods for a few years before moving to the bay area, intent on afternoon drive on KFRC. Should 35 be labeled as “a few years,” there’s still time. (Of course, KFRC has been gone since 2005 so there is that.)

Over the last 24 hours, I’ve heard distressing news about two of the tent posts of my life for these last three-plus decades.

One of my closest friends has been fighting cancer. Recently, he was told there was nothing left to do, “Go home and live your life as well as you can.” I fear that a future column will pay tribute to him.

Yet, today, I awoke to find out that Pete Meyer, morning personality on Power 96 in Eureka, passed away shockingly, suddenly, without foretoken.

It’s appropriate that as I write this, gray clouds suffocate our sky line, embracing the melancholy that this community now collectively bears.

If you don’t live among the towering titan trees and rocky coasts in Humboldt county, I’ll bet you know someone like Pete.

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Avoiding the Seduction of Negative Thinking

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Each week, I find it more and more difficult to prevent the current news cycle from wrenching the reins of this column and hijacking it into the topic of current events.

If you have read my writing for a while – or I have had the pleasure of getting to know you in person – you know that I have very strong political views and believe that I can effectively argue for my causes, while still remaining respectful of those who respectfully disagree. So, it’s not that I think I should shy away from such discussions or that those topics don’t matter. Rather, there’s a place and time for them, and these 600-word missives are neither.

Having laid all that on the table, the state of the nation and world seeps into our collective consciousness; we cannot avoid it, even if we tried. There is no shield; nor is it wise to blind ourselves from what is happening around us. Yet, at times, I feel like I am marinating in a stagnant, slime-covered, putrid swamp and emerge as quickly as possible, begging to be purified.

The result to this onslaught of negativity and name calling is to wipe one’s hands of the whole repulsive situation, thinking,

“I’m done! Count me out! It’s never going to get any better. I can’t do anything about it. Why even bother to care?”

That attitude — even more than the events which triggered it — is the true, more pressing danger. We cannot allow ourselves the luxury of negative thinking. Sure, the negativity is enticing. It’s a simulated siren’s call, offering peace and quiet, cooing seductively, “Come here; forget your woes. Let me take care of you. You don’t need to think about it.”

“How is negative thinking a luxury?” you might ask.

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Louisiana, Minnesota, Dallas from Multiple Angles

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Tumult reigns.

In Louisiana and Minnesota, police tragically killed two innocent black men. Later that same week, the city of Dallas was held hostage as a vile murderous reprehensible individual ripped asunder the hopeful futures of five brave police officers, who were ironically protecting the rights of a crowd protesting the deaths of the two aforementioned black victims. Of course these are not the only examples of violence tearing through our national fabric of late. As President Obama said while consoling a grieving, shocked city at the memorial, “I’ve been to too many of these.”

The loss of any life is a loss to more than one.

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What the Biggest Loser Report Misses about Weight Loss

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Since I’m thought of as “That Weight Loss Guy” (or so I’ve been referred to when people realize I’m the person who writes this column), it would seem appropriate that I follow the TV series most appurtenant to dieting: The Biggest Loser.

It might seem that way; but that’s not the case.

I’ve seen one half of one episode and that was enough for me.

First of all, it focuses too much on how fast one can lose weight rather than how long one can sustain a healthy lifestyle; the antithesis of my philosophy. Secondly, one of the trainers was browbeating a contestant to get her to make the necessary changes. I believe firmly that if guilt and shame were motivational, no one would be overweight. It doesn’t work. It never will. And, it’s just ugly to watch. Finally, me watching a show on weight loss is unnecessary. I live it 24/7. I can see my own program right in the mirror.

Having placed all that on the table, I’ve been approached several times by folks curious of my opinion about the study in the journal Obesity (and then reported by media) showcasing what has happened to contestants on that show. In case you haven’t heard, let me briefly recap.

The media’s main takeaways were that weight loss leads to permanent metabolic damage; and also that no one can maintain it long term.

These conclusions are based in large part on the fact that that the contestants’ resting metabolic rate (RMR) – which is how many calories your body needs per day to function – dropped while losing weight and never came back up when they put the weight back on. As for weight loss being futile, that hypothesis came to be because the average contestant lost about 125 pounds, and has so far regained about 90.

At first blush, it does seem alarming. But before you sell your treadmill and throw yourself into a box of donuts, consider these:

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Scott "Q" Marcus 707 442 6243 scottq@scottqmarcus.com

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