It may seem to hard to believe, but Fruity Pebbles cereal can be part of your diet improvement. It all depends on the bad food you ate beforehand.
 
Last week, I chose to purchase a gigantic box of Fruity Pebbles. This was designed to ween me off my poor snacking habit of hammering large bags of M&M’s, something I’ve done off and on for years, and periodically defeat as one of my addictions.

The rationale goes like this: “What’s worse? A bowl of Fruity Pebbles? Or seven ounces of mini-M&M’s?’
 
You can look on the box of cereal or the wrapper of the candy to look at how you’re being harmed. Carbohydrates. Sugar. Artificial flavors and colors. You’re going to get it in spades from both products.
 
Here’s the thing where Fruity Pebbles helps me out, and perhaps this is a method for anyone to slightly reduce consumption of something you know is not good for you, but you still find it being a go-to snack over and over: You serve it in a bowl.
 
Why does serving it in a bowl mean anything? Because that limits what you pour into it. Sure, you can pile the Fruity Pebbles until it overflows when the milk is poured in, but the bowl in and of itself establishes limits for you. Of course, you must stop at one bowl, but that’s kind of a built-in limit. And you need to keep your bowl to a normal size and not go for the mixer bowl that allows you to pour half the box of cereal into it.
 
M&M’s have no such advantage. Sure, if you buy small packages at the convenience store, the size of the package can limit what you put in your mouth. But if you go for the smallest package available, it’s still easy to buy two and eat both of them.
 
The thing, too, about chewing Fruity Pebbles (for me anyway) is you take a little extra time to crunch them and roll them around in your mouth, which leads to you eating slower and ultimately satisfying your sweet tooth. M&M’s you can just keep tossing in your mouth. For long periods of time.
 
The cereal bowl also has some type of psychological limiting factor for unknown reasons. Maybe it goes back to eating cereal for breakfast. You pour the grain in, saturate it with milk, munch away, and when you’re done, it’s time to start your day. When you eat a bowl for a snack to satisfy your sugar urge, boredom, anger or motivational needs, it delivers on that mindset. You eat, you’re done, you move onto the next task on hand, whether that’s something at work or around your home.
 
I do have some worries about using Fruity Pebbles as a crutch. This coming week, I’m switching over to Cocoa Pebbles for a change of pace, and to keep the boredom curve from kicking in. Gotta shake things up, if you know what I mean.

But the same principles of limitation and slower munching should keep my Cocoa Pebbles consumption on the right track to provide the slight positive results expected from switching over from the pounding of M&M’s. I’ll let you know when I lose a pound.

​The Wisconsin Senior Olympics, after a morning thunderstorm delay of an hour and 15 minutes, took place yesterday starting at about 9:45 a.m. at Homestead High School north of Milwaukee. No one died.
 
And, without hyperbole, everyone who competed had a good time. Story number one:
 
As I prepped for the 60-64 age group shot put, I chatted with a 90-year-old man who came up from Illinois to compete in the shot and discus. He was a former high school track and field coach and brought two of his former students, both competing in the 55-59 age bracket. How cool is that?
 
Both stood over 6’3” and 260 lbs. Needless to say, they dominated.
 
I didn’t have a shot put ball the right weight. Did that turn out to be a problem? No. Several guys stepped forward to offer me theirs.
 
A woman with short red hair, about 5’1’ and over 65 started talking to me. She’d never thrown the shot put before,  but decided to go for it. Every time I saw her, she was smiling.
 
If you happen to care about results, my goal in the shot was to break 30 feet, with an outside goal of hitting 31 feet. I met the first and just missed the second. I’ll work on my technique for next time, as feedback from friends determined that I don’t use my legs enough. Sounds like my golf swing.
 
The long jump and triple jump pit was next to us. I’m one of those people who don’t know how people can leap and land without destroying their knees after a certain stage of life. Like after the age of 50.

But that didn’t stop these grey-haired men and women. They sprinted (if you could call it that), planted and leapt, sailing into the sand and splaying forward. Sure, it wasn’t 10 feet, but still majestic to watch the effort and desire. Man. One skinny short guy with his knee in a complicated brace hobbled down and gave it his best. Then he staggered over to the shot put area to join us. What a competitor.

Like many others, he entered multiple events. I figured this out later. We left for food, and when we returned, the track events were in full swing. You quickly saw that the guy in the knee brace was not unique.
 
Race after race, you heard the same woman’s name and saw one guy with a blonde ponytail and slight potbelly running around the track, taking on one event after another. The woman kept winning. The guy kept finishing last. They both kept going.

For both, I think they had some special spirit and goal -- an accomplishment they wanted to conquer. Whether it was competing in every running event, I don’t know, but there was a joy in watching them, and clapping as they sprinted or chugged along.
 
I can imagine them telling their grandkids, “Grandma won 7 gold medals in the Wisconsin Senior Olympics.” Or, “Grandpa competed in 7 senior Olympic running events in one day without keeling over. Isn’t that incredible.” Yes.
 
My 3:44 result in the 800 put me in 10th place out of 12 runners as they put three age brackets together. That time beat my prediction of 3:48, so I felt good. I knew myself pretty well, and was able to slight exceed expectations. A lot to be said for that.
 
As I picked up my bronze medal for the shot put, I stood in line behind a guy who’d won three gold medals. Later, I saw him on the track smoking the field in the 200. I stood still, watching this guy fly around the track, amazed at his ability, reveling in the day and his experience. The joy flowed outward and embraced us all.

(Editor’s note: This is the fourth in a series as I prepare for the Wisconsin Senior Olympics. The event is this coming Sunday.)
This is it folks. Seven days left until I throw the shot put and run the 800 in the Wisconsin Senior Olympics.

In many ways, this journey began with my kids. They all started running in middle school, then got competitive about it in high school, and that carried over as all three went on to compete at the D-III collegiate level. Proud of them year after year, they inspired and motivated me to step into the arena.

Growing up I ran fast, but never competed in any track or field event. I played baseball, football, basketball, eventually golf, and did run one season of cross country my senior year in high school on a lark. I never thought about really “competing” in any type of running or field event. Watching our kids over the years, the successes they achieved, the hard work they put in that delivered results, I started thinking about some events that I could compete in as a 63-year-old.
 
I knew sprints were out as I probably would tear every muscle in both legs. And I knew distance events were out because there are guys out there running 5k and 10k races regularly and they would crush me like the flea I am. So I had to find something in-between and settled on the 800.

Our son Kirby encouraged me into the shot put. That was the initial event to trigger my thinking, as he felt I shouldn’t run after having surgery to shave off a huge bone spur on my left heel in October 2017. I agreed about the shot put, and disagreed about running as my body had healed pretty well over the ensuing 18 months after surgery before I started training.
 
I’m sticking to my two goals of arriving on-site Sunday with my body relatively intact and wanting to finish both events without tearing a muscle. Beyond that, anything goes. If only two people enter the shot put, I should be able to take the bronze. If enough guys are silly and hurt themselves during the 800, perhaps I won’t finish last. We’ll see. I’m going to take it slow and see how the race develops.

At this age, I’ve found warming up is probably the most important thing about running a good race. Stretch, get the muscles loose, prepare your body slower to give it an opportunity to perform. The mind must encourage the body. We’ll see how that goes.
 
Multiple coaches encouraged our three kids along their paths, including Rick Miller, Jeff Stiles, Donna Ricks and Jason Deardorff. They have all positively influenced our kids in their running, and by extension they’ve taught me things about perseverance, staying engaged and doing your best. It doesn’t mean you’ll win, but it means you’re in the arena and there’s a lot to be said for that in the grand scheme of things. All four mean a lot to our kids and I salute them for their coaching, leadership and encouragement. I doubt I’d be doing this without them or having watched our kids compete the past 10 years or so.

My wife Debbie is the rock of our running, showing me by example over and over what she can do in road races over the years. Her example demonstrated to me what the mind and body are capable of when you put the extra effort into it. This race is for her, our kids and the coaches. The starting gun awaits.
(Editor’s note: Next week will cover the two events.)
​

(EDITOR’S note: This is the third in a series.)
 
Sometimes your body rebels. While training for the Wisconsin Senior Olympics, several months back I yanked my hamstring. It’s a searing injury, with the hamstring being so importantly connected to other leg muscles that you must be delicate in rehabilitation.
 
As a 63-year-old training for the 800 and shot put, I felt pretty good the first few months, slowing upping my reps in training for the shot put, and slowly increasing my speed for the 800. Bit by bit. Pick it up in small increments. Sometimes being careful isn’t enough.
 
One of the interesting things to navigate as you get older and train for events such as this is the injury factor. Your spirit tells you to push yourself. Your rational mind tells you to be careful because you can hurt yourself.
 
When you’re younger, you can blast all-out when you run. Not the case now. You can slowly build up your speed circling the track, gauging which muscles are twinging and holding back just a bit because you know how easily that muscle-pull can occur.
 
Most of my training has been on the trails running with our dogs or in the gym, circling a shortened basketball court. All it took was heading to the outdoor track for my right hamstring to go bad.
 
It was late spring and we were down seeing two of our kids, and the track was just outside our hotel room. I had to get out there. I knew it was time to test what it was like to run two laps around the track. But I never made it.

The first lap went well. At the start of the second, I felt good. “Hmmm, maybe I can stretch my pace,” I thought to myself.

Not a good idea. Near the end of the 100-yard straight-away, I felt the hamstring tug and tighten, sending that unpleasant stabbing pain to my brain cells. I pulled up. Tried to shake and stretch it out. Tried to jog again, no dice.
 
The injury was not major. At the same time, healing at this stage of the game needed to come quickly. I stopped running for three weeks, continuing to stretch out. Then, slowly I reintroduced jogging to the training regime, followed by a slow picking up of the pace, all the while wondering if the hammy was going south again.

It could at any point. I’ve been told that in these senior sprinting events, runners coming up lame and not finishing the race is a regular occurrence. So, with my first goal of getting to the 800 and shot put uninjured, my second goal is to finish both those events without a major injury.

I’m okay with coming out of the competition sore in ways not considered beforehand. That’s to be expected.



But running hard, pushing my body to a limit without causing injury during the competition requires a certain knowledge and fortitude to “not run as hard as you can.” It’s only natural to want to haul off and sprint. I know that is not good.
 
The brain and the spirit have to battle now. Monitoring your body and knowing what it can do are critical to being ready to start the race, and capable of finishing it.
(Stay tuned for next week’s final pre-race installment.)
​