Cardio in the 2nd Millenium
My mother is one of those people that have become spoiled by their own retirement, reminding me that, among all my pressing duties and responsibilities in this twilight of our liberal democracy, maintaining my weight is chief among them.
So I have started a new diet and excercise plan, courtesy of MacroFactor and it’s sister app, Workouts. Powered by AI, the app measures your food and caloric intake, utilizing biometrics to track your calorie expenditures and intake, exploiting the age old formula of, “Hey, fatass! Don’t eat more than you burn!”
I am suspicious of AI most of the time, wondering if this app has already gained sentience and is now trying to crash my liver with an over abundance of protein, but I have yet to encounter anything truly sinister. The idea of an app tracking calories is far less suspect to me than an AI therapist or medical professional. The former is assisting with lowering the administrative burden of calorie tracking, while the latter requires wisdom and established relationships. It would appear that, despite myself, I am losing weight because of the app, although the progress is purposefully slow. I’ve set a program that will (God willing) help me get down to 190 pounds by some time in October, so the pacing will ensure that I develop new habits along the way.
This seems to be the issue with most diets: maintenance.
In 2024, I embarked on a great crusade against my waist line after a health scare, finding out that my liver was “fatty”. What happened next was a long road to reducing my alcohol intake and reducing my overall food intake. I found myself doing a “Mediterranean” diet, which consisted of enough feta to kill a small elephant and lots of salads. I also forsook bread and most sugars and supplemented my break periods at work with brisk speed walking around the building that I work in. At my “best”, I had lost about 25lbs, weighing in at 198. Within a year, however, I had gained back all the weight. What’s interesting about MacroFactor is the rapid onset of calorie awareness. The portions that you would eyeball and think, “sure, that’s not that much chicken …” suddenly become far larger than you thought. How much is 2 tablespoons of olive oil, anyways? Answer: not much. But, how many calories is it? Answer: a metric fuck-ton.
The obesity problem in the United States is real, with many of us being overweight simply because the availability of food is so unrestricted. For most of human history the process of collecting food and cultivating it was accomplished at great expense. Although, I am not advocating for a return to a prehistoric existence, I would be remiss if I did not at least contemplate the unique situation we find ourselves in. Preservatives and additives that help prolong the shelf life of foodstuffs notwithstanding, I think it’s good to buy a slab of chicken and marvel at the simplicity of lightly salting it and then throwing it on the grill. The end result can be like going to a comedy club to see a “clean comic”: good clean fun. I suppose that makes eating a steak like going to see Tom Segura, if you follow the analogy. But, sometimes, that’s what we need to be healthy: a balance of observational comedy and lurid depictions of felatio.
