Stupid

“You know, you have to be a little stupid.”

It may not sound like much, but let me tell you the who-what-when-where-why of one of the most compelling, impactful, and important things anyone has ever said to me.

INT. GYM/WEIGHT ROOM – AFTERNOON

We’re somewhere in 2008 of the timeline.  I’m at the gym working out with my two good friends Joe and Chris. They’re a lot bigger than me, and to give you a visual of that, picture the standard icon of the strength of your signal on your cell phone.  There’s five bars, and if I’m the middle bar, Joe and Chris are labeled to the right respectively, aptly giving you the best possible signal on your phone for crystal clear conversation.

Many times I wondered why they let me train with them.  Maybe because I made them laugh – not because I told jokes so good that they could be exchanged for pure gold, or wit so sharp it made you say cheddar, no.  They laughed because I couldn’t lift weights for beans, and understandably so, that holds a lot of entertainment value.  Fair enough; I laughed at myself, too.

We’re doing burnout sets, which means we’re flirting with death until we decide it’s okay to come back to life.  More technically, we’re doing one exercise – repeatedly – toward the brink of utter exhaustion at the end of a series of exercises that were performed in a more standard x reps for y sets.  You can imagine it’s only fun if you’re crazy.

Or in this case – stupid.  But, in a good way.  Let me explain.

For the burnout set we’re doing push ups – a classic exercise with the right amount sadism.  Naturally, I burn out first.  I can’t even tell you how many I did (couldn’t have been much), but I can tell you how hard my body flopped to the floor at the end of it.  Have you ever seen someone try to run through a glass door they didn’t see was there?

Harder than that.

Chris, the tallest bar of the cell phone signal icon, actually burns out second.  That leaves Joe as the iron man of the burnout set, and my jaw drops watching him keep at it.  One after another, he pushes himself up, and descends down, then back up, and repeat.  I didn’t lose count, because I wasn’t trying to keep one.  At this point, I was awed and inspired.  Chris, drenched and dripping with his own sweat, turns to me and says these words I’ll never forget, and words I have and will continue to live by:

“You know, you have to be a little stupid, you know?  You have to be stupid to just keep going.  That’s all pain right there, why wouldn’t you just stop, you know what I’m sayin’?  Like, stupid to the point that you can’t even register what pain is.”

Joe is still going – one push up after another.  Grunting, muttering expletives under his heaving breaths.  Just when I think he’s going to burn out, he pushes right back up.  His determination was so heavy it felt like you could gather chunks of it from the air, pack it up in tupperware and save it as a post-workout snack for later.  Joe finally burned out his set, but even after a gutsy display of tenacity I still thought he could have easily kept on going.  I was convinced he felt more tiresome of Chris and I staring at him with jealous eyes.

While it seemed like an insult (albeit a playful one) at first, there is something powerful to be grasped from Chris’s genuinely honest observation about Joe – what we all understand as an innate human reaction of instantly pulling your hand away once you touch a hot stove was something Joe seemingly didn’t have.  In this case I took this not as a lack of intelligence, but rather a strong indication of mental toughness.  Only in the specific manner in which Chris diagramed his view of Joe did I conceive strength in a completely different light:

“Stupid” people won’t know how to quit, even when they’re burnt halfway to hell.
“Stupid” people take on challenges that are already labeled as impossible.
“Stupid” people go toe to toe with adversaries that will beat them to a pulp, and “stupid” people will find a way to get back up.
“Stupid” people avoid using excuses, especially the most valid ones.
“Stupid” people find ways to be vulnerable, in order to stay humble.

Joe is pretty stupid, in fact one of the most stupid guys I’ve ever met.  Chris is no different, and I’m lucky to have met and befriended several other people that can be just as stupid.  I want to be the same, if not even stupider.  In fact, I try to be the most absolutely stupidest person in any given room I walk into.  I want people to say about me, “That guy?  Michael Arce?  That’s one stupid motherf—-r, man.  So stupid he *willingly solves math problems when he’s completely inebriated with alcohol.

So, Joe and Chris used to call me Mikelovin’.  There’s absolutely no point to me mentioning this at all, I just wanted to say it because I’m still the shorter end of this cell phone signal metaphor, I have zero appeal going for me so far, and we’re already at the end of this story.  I needed appreciate the ego boost.  I’m the one writing it, and I can do so.  Do somethin’.

I’m with stupid.

*true story

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Unsweetened

I’ve recently taken some time to take a step back to view my year to date and I’ve convinced myself that the biggest change in my life is that, I have diabetes.

If you’re close to me, and had no idea about this news, let me alleviate some of that shock in the aforementioned statement – more accurately, I have willingly inherited type 2 diabetes.  Here’s what I mean by that –

In mid February of this year, a good friend of mine, RQ, admitted to me that he has been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.  I’m versed enough to understand that it’s more than eliminating soda pop from your diet.  Here’s what I got –

When we eat our bodies break down foods and turn them into glucose and other nutrients used to fuel bodily functions.  After a meal, our levels of glucose rise, which then triggers the pancreas to produce insulin (a hormone) which unlocks the doors for glucose to be released from the blood.

When someone has diabetes, either their body can’t produce insulin, or the body doesn’t properly respond to insulin.  This is a problem, because insulin is what allows glucose into the cells.  If glucose can’t get into the cells, that means glucose stays in the bloodstream, causing abnormally high sugar levels.  High sugar levels can lead to even more health problems; the snowball effect is not a desirable one here.

Let’s look at that differently with slight shift of the eye, layman’s terms on another level, if you will.  We’ll remix the following:

Glucose is now Joy.

Pancreas is the Landlord.

Insulin is named Keys.

Blood will be called Prison.

And cells will be me, you, your mama, and your cousin, too.

When we eat our bodies break down foods and turn them into Joy.  After a meal, our levels of Joy rise, which then triggers the Landlord to produce keys which unlocks the doors for Joy to be released from Prison.

When someone has diabetes, either their body can’t produce keys, or the body doesn’t properly respond to keys (like a wrong key unable to unlock a door).  This is a problem, because keys allow Joy into me, you, your mama, and your cousin, too.  If Joy can’t get into me, you, your mama, and your cousin too, this means Joy stays in Prison, causing a lot of unhappiness all around.  And a lot of unhappiness leads to me, you, your mama, and your cousin to have a laundry list of other health problems.

Are we good on understanding diabetes?  This is where you nod.

At the time I accepted this news with empathy and carefulness.  I’m not a doctor, and while I may have some idea on how to help, I hadn’t a clue where to start.  This is all I knew – that RQ was told to take insulin shots, eat less of the bad stuff and more of the right stuff, and to increase his physical activity.  Emphasis on increase physical activity.

For the first two thirds of my life, I lived a very unhealthy life.  I ate all the bad stuff too often in a day.  I was beyond obese, and if I continued this path I would have died a very young man.  From my own experience I understand firsthand how intimidating it is to make that first step into fitness – not just a gym – fitness.  Whether it’s on a treadmill next to people faster than you or even at home in the privacy of your living room, fitness is absolutely terrifying and judgmental, and it will tear you in pieces until you reach some level of comfort under your own skin.

In the same conversation RQ broke his diagnosis to me, he also shared that he’s already been doing something about it – taking a group class at a nearby studio where he works.  At the time he’s three-four weeks into this class.  I fully grasped how much courage that took, needless to say I couldn’t have been more proud of the guy.  But I knew he needed, he wanted more.  While one workout a week is a start, the solution to this needs more horsepower.

For work, this is what I do, again layman’s terms – I look at a lot of data and oversee software configurations for my company.  My company manages health and fitness centers for other companies and community centers that have their own gym within their work campus.  In other words – in regards to RQ – I can get him any gym membership he wants.  Contrary to popular belief, I’m not one to initially push people in gyms.  What I’ve learned throughout the years is that, if anyone is going to stick around in a gym for longer than the first three weeks of January, they’re going to need to push themselves in first (as a business, the trick is to keep them from leaving, but that’s another story).

And that’s exactly what RQ did – he pushed himself in an awesome studio (The Corner Studio) in San Francisco’s Potrero Hill neighborhood.  He’s gotten his feet wet, now it’s time for the deep end, and this is where I was able to give it another nudge – I told him exactly what I said earlier, “you pick whatever gym you want, and I’ll get you in there.”

“But I don’t know how to use the machines, I wouldn’t know what to do,” he replied.

“Then I’ll work out with you.  I’ll take that studio class with you, too.”

“That class is too easy for you.  Don’t you work out hard?  I can’t do your workouts.”

“We’ll modify.  Every work out is hard, don’t ever believe otherwise.  If you’re willing to put in an hour into something that a large majority won’t do, then it’s never going to be easy.  We’ll get this done.”

Since then, RQ has gradually increased his workout count anywhere between 2-6 days a week, and anyone is putting in that amount of work, results are expected.  This is the fun part.  Here’s what happened since –

When one is diabetic, their blood sugar level is 7.5+.

In February 2017, RQ’s blood sugar level was 10.3.

Three months after training, RQ’s blood sugar level dropped down to 8.0.

Five months after training, his blood sugar level dropped again to 7.8.

Seven months after training, his blood sugar level dropped again to 7.1.

Blood sugar levels between 4.0 – 6.5 are considered normal.

To reiterate – I’m not a doctor.  But I think I can confidently tell you that those trends are pretty fucking good.  Most mornings I would receive a text from RQ, a photo of his daily glucose readings measured in mg/DL, and when using this method of measurement 70-130 is considered good.  RQ began to hit between those marks pretty much every day.  I accepted this as my own levels without question nor hesitation – his levels were my levels, his training is my training, his diet is my diet, and all the good and the bad and everything in between was mine too.  This what I allowed myself to train for.  No longer chasing PRs on lifts.  No longer the focus on the amount of miles logged in or the minutes per each mile.  No longer chasing 200+ revolutions on a jump rope in a minute.  No longer driving down that needle on the weight scale.

I’m hell bent on getting to that 6.5 blood sugar level.

His texts then follow up with words of appreciation for the training, things like and not limited to “your methods/strategies are working, you deserve great moments, any ex-girlfriend of yours should have never left you,” and this one being the most used, “may good karma reward you back.”

Karma.  Hmm.

First of all, no ex-girlfriend of mine can have me back.  Secondly, yes I do believe in karma, don’t let that hmm throw you off.  It’s like the hippie cousin of Newton’s 3rd Law that says for every action there is a reaction, yeah?  Newton was pretty good at science.  Newton was a good guy.

And that’s the key to good karma isn’t it?  It’s returned to good people.  And I’ll be the first to tell you I am far from a good man.  But for some strange reason I’ve been lucked with knowing some real great people.  RQ is one of them, one of the greatest guys I’ve ever met.  And another great guy I knew was our friend AJ.

RQ, AJ, and I hung out in our college days.  We were good friends, enjoyed a lot of good times and laughs.  From the early 2010’s and on, AJ was a severely dedicated marathoner and triathlete, fighting for his own young daughter who was battling cancer.  He co-founded the organization Team Cancer Sucks that helps raise funds for cancer patients.   In the worst of ironies, he was diagnosed with his own cancer, the very damn thing he was fighting against for his daughter.  She won that battle, she is alive, healthy and well.  But AJ is no longer with us after losing his life to cancer in 2015.  AJ was a damn great man.

AJ had cancer.  RQ has diabetes.  I have… nothing.  I shouldn’t be without health conditions.  Karma, life, whatever is responsible here is 0/3 – AJ didn’t deserve cancer.  RQ doesn’t deserve diabetes.  And I don’t deserve nothing.

I can admit, maybe the reason I help RQ is in part of trying to avenge our friend AJ.  Maybe this is my anger at karma for not allowing me to carry the worst of situations.  Maybe I drive myself through the concrete with work, training, and everything else in my world to the complete and utter brink of exhaustion because deep down I know I shouldn’t be so lucky.

Maybe, just maybe, I’m trying to be like AJ, where he seemingly took the cancer that plagued his daughter and took it as his own to deal with.

I don’t know, maybe it’s a little bit of everything.  Maybe I’m overthinking it all, and I loathe it when I overthink.  Regardless, my focus is unwavering – I’m all in for breaking through 6.5.

This is for RQ, and this is for AJ.  Straight up, no sugar added.

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Andrew

I’m trying to work, but I can’t.  I’m angry, confused.  I feel everything and I feel nothing, all at the same time.

Just like that, without explanation or warning, my friend Andrew was gone.  And all I have left is the fortunate ability to remember to keep myself composed.

We came up at the Village Fitness Center together.  When I first met him, he came in as a new member at the gym, and I was with the Service Desk.  He was a skinny kid right before, and as I like to joke, the gamma ray accident turned him into the Hulk that everyone knew and loved.  In reality, he was extremely dedicated and focused at his craft, and the physical feats he reached are proof of this.

Shortly he began an internship and eventually became a certified personal trainer with the VFC Family.  After garnering success, he took his work to other locations within the company – Federal Fitness, Avalon Bay, and Fillmore to name a few.  After several great years with us, he moved to Los Angeles, and found more success in the fitness industry.  The sky was the limit for Andrew, and everyone that knew him believed this with complete certainty.

One of the best memories I have with Andrew was Halloween, had to have been close to six years ago.  We were at a party in the city, and I’m pretty sure that, and this is something that happened way to often than it should during this previous version of myself, I forgot many of the details toward the end of the night.

But I do remember this – I was a cop.  Aviator shades, vest, and two colorful water guns.  There were other cops with me, and we looked really cool. I’m talking about other-side-of-the-pillow cool, trust me.

Not as cool as Andrew, though.  He waltzes in as Akuma from the Street Fighter video games.  He had it down to the details – the attire, the wraps, and of course, the muscles.  The guy was built like a statue, and it was safe to say he stole the show.

Andrew wasn’t much of a drinker then, in fact I don’t think he ever had one up to that time.  Until, this Halloween party.  Maybe he was intimidated by my water guns (that probably shot out a liquid that rhymes with Pequila later in the night), maybe it was my pheromones that eventually changed his mind, or maybe – and this is what I will believe – maybe it’s because he loved me like a brother, and because of this, he was going to have a drink with me.

And yes, I loved him, too.

We go to the bar, and I tell Andrew, “F&#% it man, bring your boys too. I got all of you.”  Side bar, when I drink, everyone drinks.  That’s my own little life rule.

“Four Jameson shots my good dude,” I tell the bartender.  We toast to… something.  Maybe we toasted to being gym rats, or to friendship, or to the Akuma character, or to the fact that the Giants were one more game away from winning their first World Series in the San Francisco era.  We took it like champs, hugged and high-fived like bros, and took more photos at the photo booth in the other room because we were that much full of ourselves.  Andrew then tells me, “That was my first shot in my life.”

I bought Andrew’s very first shot, and I truly take that as a high honor.  They say that you never forget your firsts, and I hope this rings true with Andrew.  Because I will never forget him.

You always think that life gives you chances for another round, but that’s never the case.  This is another reminder that the only chances in life are the ones you take.

As I remember Andrew, I am reminded how unpredictable all of this is, and that anything can be taken away at any given time.  I’m reminded to continue to take those chances every day, no matter how big or small, because just how Andrew easily displayed, greatness is manifested from those with the will to win, not from those who are afraid to fail.

I am reminded to continue to live in the honor for those we’ve all lost in our lives, and pave the way for others after us to adopt the same.  The best thing in this world is what we have between each other.  Not of things made of matter, but things that matter – conversations, moments, laughs, undocumented sights, and unrecorded sounds.

This is the privilege of remembrance, and Andrew – my colleague, my former co-worker, and most of all, my good friend – it has been an amazing privilege to have had you in my life.

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Train

I have a love-hate relationship with working out: I love it when I do it, I hate it when I don’t. For last eight years, I have gone no more than two weeks straight without some sort of workout or training session. So it’s definitely been coded in my blood to just… go.

And I’m very proud about that aspect about myself. I’ve been on the receiving end of unnecessary fat jokes and comments from friends, family, and strangers for two decades. And it really sucks, by the way. I’ve been able to look back and laugh about those moments now, but trust me when I say that it took some blood, several tears, and a whole lot of sweat to get to that point of acceptance. And, if my calculations are correct, if I averaged a safe bet of four workouts a week for the last eight years (416 weeks), that amounts to 1,664 workouts.

And after 1,664 workouts you would be easily led to believe that I am some chiseled out monster that eats dumbbells for breakfast, flosses with jump rope and lifts cars with my eye lashes. If you do, thank you for the wonderful compliment.

But I’m not. While I have lost a lot of weight, I’m not where I want to be (yet). The problem I’ve always had is that I plateau, quite honestly more than anyone I know. I have hit wall after wall after wall, I lose focus and I find myself taking steps back for several weeks and/or months. I’ll buy one too many Cadbury Eggs bags at Target post-Easter sale, add three too many cheat meals during the week because I feel I deserved another, visited my parents and ate too much of that oh-so-good comfort Filipino food, or had myself too many packs of peanut M&Ms, thinking that eleven burpees would burn it all off.

True story – it takes eleven burpees to burn off ONE peanut M&M. The moral: chose portion control, or suffer the consequences.

Then there’s that crazy thing called life, too. Sometimes it just sucks you dry, and other times you’re having just too much fun. Either way, too much booze is involved, and that’s where you can blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-alcohol.

You may also believe that I am knowledgeable about everything health and fitness. I am not this, either. I have many close and successful friends in that field, and I’ve picked their brain for years learning and understanding what works and what doesn’t. I have not earned one certification, and never will I consider myself an expert. But I understand what I need, what works for me, and what it’s going to take – for me. And recently, I have gained a much better understanding of when to slow down. You can’t always go pedal to the metal. You get hurt (as I have plenty of times), and you are shelved for days or weeks, and all the momentum goes out the window.

That’s where the wall appears. Then, boom. Right to your chin. The wall’s in the car, you on the ground, tryin’ to figure what the f%$# just happened.

And I did run into that wall last week. The good thing is, it didn’t knock me backwards. I couldn’t get over that 5AM alarm, but I eventually got something in later in the day. While feeling like you’re staying put is not the greatest thing, there is a win in holding your ground. Once you can weather the storm, you can move forward once more and continue to chase that burn.

And when you start naming your workouts, that’s when you know you’re having fun and you’re on board the right train. Take today’s session, which I aptly titled The ABC’s:

A. 3:14 minute cardio warm up (row machine)
B. Shoulder stretch routine with broomstick
C. Hip rotations and warm up
D. 21 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
E. 1 minute plank
F. 50 crunches
G. 18 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
H. 1 minute plank
I. 50 reverse crunches
J. 15 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
K. 1 minute plank
L. 50 scissor kicks
M. 12 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
N. 1 minute plank
O. 50 bicycle kicks
P. 9 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
Q. 1 minute plank
R. 50 oblique crunches (left)
S. 6 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
T. 1 minute plank
U. 50 oblique crunches (right)
V. 3 reps barbell thrusters @75 lbs
W. 1 minute plank
X. 50 hip bridges
Y. Cool down
Z. Leave no doubt: take a photo to prove you’ve done your ABC’s

One last thing – how many Jamie Foxx references did you catch in this post?

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