Dirk Hoyle stood only 5 10″, but strutted like he was a foot taller.  His Special Forces and bodybuilding days were well behind him, but hand him a spear and shield and he would’ve fit right in as one of King Leonidas’ 300.  Now 34, he clinged to a youthful cool image — usually dressed in surfer shorts, a tank top that tugged to his bulging muscles, and designer sunglasses flipped over his short bleached blond hair.  Few could get away with the look, but he did.

The first two weeks of training were hell — I was like some out of place Marine recruit two days into basic training who went from Ooh Rah! to WHAT DID I SIGN UP FOR.  My soft 14 year-old body weathered unheard of fatigue and pain.  Dirk’s favorite torture method for me was military calisthenics — a simple, yet demanding series of exercises that don’t involve any weights or machines.  The worst of them were these double push-ups with about six different steps to complete just ONE.  So doing five was

tough.  Ten?  Brutal.  Hey JJ, how about you do FOUR sets of FIFTEEN?  That bastard.  But this is what we did every day — calisthenics, lunges, stair stepping, running, and weight lifting every area of the body — a regimen fit for The Biggest Loser.

These days were temporarily behind me.

And my diet?  A max of 1700 calories a day, consisting mostly of protein bars, meal replacements, fruit, vegetables, and egg whites.  No more wolfing down chimichangas and Hot Pockets as after lunch snacks.  Somehow, despite this system-shock and initial struggle, I remained motivated to stick it out and get in shape.

July became August, then September, and training continued as the school year started.  The pounds were melting off, and he was beating up on me as usual.  Putting the water bottle Dirk always carried to good use, he’d occasionally douse me with it whenever he felt like, as if I was some pesky fire t

hat needed to be put out.  “Three more reps,” he would say towards the end of a long set.  And countdown: “3, 2, 1—, 2, 1, 1, 1,” extending the ‘three more’ into seven or eight.  SCREW YOU! I’d gasp, after doing more than double of what was expected.

Ah, but it was good for me.  By the time the November tryouts finally rolled around, I had lost 40 pounds, and more than half my body fat.  The miracle was pulled off, and I easily made the hoops squad.

We continued working together off and on for the next year or so.  Quickly after, we lost touch.  I do wonder sometimes what Dirk is up to; whether he’s toughening up a new fat kid, or in the mountains of Afghanistan hunting down the remnants of the Taliban.

Regardless, just about everything I’ve ever learned about diet and exercise, I learned from him (among other things, like how to handle an AK-47, or choke someone out, but I digress.)  And I’ve needed it, as I’ve gone on three or four long term major diet and exercise programs since (where do you think all that bacon goes?).   And using the methods I learned from him, I’ve seamlessly lost the weight and reached my goals.  Without getting into details of different exercises, it’s no more complicated than this: I try burn more calories than I eat, and boost my metabolism by combining many small meals with exercise.  It’s hard work, but completely fail proof.

It’s also suggested that I find a niche, and stick with it to build an audience.  That’s probably sound advice, but I’m not going to.  Yes, I’m a writer currently specializing in copywriting, but who really wants to read about that?  Other copywriters or aspiring ones, sure, but that’s very limiting, and there’s enough on the subject out there to fill ten hot air balloons.

So what am I going to blog about, then?  Whatever my ADD-ridden, crazy beautiful mind lands on.  From TV/movie reviews to commentary on current events to philosophies on life — and everything in between — I’m as open as a 7-Eleven.