Vinnie Tortorich

I’ve mentioned on this blog before that I had a radio show when I lived in New Orleans in the 1980s. For the uninitiated, it was a call-in talk show. It was kind of like an “ask the expert” thing. I was the expert. It goes to show they’ll let anyone on the radio, and let anyone call themselves an expert. Despite this, I generally had more knowledge than the folks calling in. Note that when I didn’t know an answer, I didn’t make one up. I would consult a few doctors I knew and then give out the answer on a later show. One day when I decided to plunk down the phones and take some questions, I received a call from an older lady. I’m assuming she was an older lady. If she wasn’t she was a smoker. She had a weak, yet raspy voice. Think Suzanne Pleshette nowadays, not back when she was hot and sexy. But I digress. Wait…I forgot what I was talking about. I got caught up thinking of her young, raspy voice. OK, I’ve pulled myself together. The caller said she hardly eats anything, and when she does, it’s a vegetable. She couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t losing weight. In fact, she was gaining weight. I asked a few questions. She said she loved vegetables, fresh fruit and a serving of yogurt a day. I asked about exercise, she said it was moderate. She got out and walked from time to time. I asked if the yogurt was nonfat. She said it was lowfat, and she only had one serving. It wasn’t adding up to me. I was perplexed. I then asked her how big of a serving she was having. She said, “Just the one little carton.” I asked how big the carton was, so she went get it. It sounded like a comedy routine as her feet clip-clopped there and back. She returned and asked “Are you still there.” I said yes and then asked her to read the nutrition facts. There was silence for a moment. Then I heard “Oh, dear.” To make a long story short she was eating a half gallon of lowfat frozen yogurt every day. First off, I assumed she was eating not frozen but plain lowfat yogurt. Not an ice cream cousin. Please, let’s not gloss over the fact that she was eating a half gallon every day. I told you that to tell you this. Way back when I moved to Los Angeles, I had a friend who eventually became a roomate. She had the type of job you want every roomate to have, especially if it’s a female. Kristine was all female. Her job? She was a bikini model. Kristine and I are still good friends today, almost 20 years later. I actually get to see her from time to time. We generally have a cup of coffee, and check to make sure we’re OK in life, then part ways. But there’s another time I hear from Kristine. I hear from her when she gains a couple of pounds, if she’s met a new guy or has an event coming up and needs to look good. She knows what I’m going to say. She knows all of the information. Hey, if you can get a fitness guy for free, why not. And to be honest with you, I like when she calls. She did just that a couple of weeks ago. It seems that with the holidays she’s put on five pounds. I gave her some advice, like using Weight Watchers. She’s used the program with success in the past. I’m not sure why she doesn’t use it every time. I gave her the usual advice. The stuff that I know works for her. Then a week later, I got another call from my friend. She couldn’t understand why she worked so hard on her diet for a week and didn’t lose a pound. She kept me on the phone for more than 20 minutes as we tried to figure out what was going wrong. I was giving her what I call “the O.J. Simpson interrogation” where I left no stone unturned. It seemed she was doing everything right. But just like the old lady and the half gallon of yogurt, I knew something had to be missing. Just as I was getting off the phone, I asked when was the last time she had her period. It was coming up. The pound or two of fat she lost was replaced by the pound or two of fluid they gain in the days before their cycle. The point of this story is it takes well longer than just one week for your body to adjust to any diet. Just like Kristine, remember other factors can play into it. Just because you did everything right for one week doesn’t mean that magic will happen.

I was talking to Christina one day. This was a couple of years ago. I’ve known Christina for the better part of ten years. I started training her right after she had her second daughter, Corey. Like most women after a second kid, she thought she had put on a little weight. I heard the usual story when I went in. She was a basketball star, and all around good athlete. She spent the 1980s as an aerobics teacher. She just wanted to get back to where she was before. I’ve had few clients who’ve worked harder than Christina to get in shape. It wasn’t long before she’d done her first marathon. And not long after that she found full triathlon. She’s gone full tilt in it ever since. Christina’s body has morphed into the body of a fine athlete over the years. To give you a description, she has the basic body type of Dara Torres, the Olympic swimmer who seems to come back year after year.

Christina is ripped. She told me one day something. It totally baffled me, but in some weird way, I kind of understood. In her mind’s eye, she looked like the pros she saw in magazines. But when she sees pictures of herself crossing the finish line, she still feels like a fat oaf. Nothing could be further from the truth. Christina, like a lot of my other “aging athletes,” looks amazing. I told you that to tell you this. Like most people who live in Los Angeles, Christina comes from somewhere else. Specifically, she’s from Ohio. She met her husband Bill there. They moved together to California to find fame and fortune. Not to digress, but Bill did just that. Once a year the couple go to the Carolinas to hang out with old friends. Several couples they knew way back in the day rent a beach house for themselves and their kids. Recently they decided to stop that practice. The main reason being the friends they grew up with seem to have a problem with Christina. Was she being a jerk? Absolutely not. Was she acting out of line? Absolutely not. What she did do was show up. That seemed to be all it took for some of these other women. She would take time to swim, run or ride a bike. That alone is enough to make other people look at what they’re doing. It didn’t stop there. When the group hit the beach, Christina’s body looked better than it looked when she was 18. The other women didn’t fare so well. Every year she would come back, and sometimes even cry because of the way she was treated. I explained that she was simply holding a mirror up to these women. Working hard and keeping in shape, she showed them what was possible. They could no longer say to their husbands that they worked hard every day taking care of the kids. I applaud Christina and people like her. They keep the rest of us honest.

It was an amazing day in Los Angeles on Sunday. I watched a piece on ESPN and saw where a dome in Minneapolis crashed in because too much snow had fallen on the roof. I guess this is where I’m supposed to feel guilty about living in southern California. Eff that, that is why I moved here 20 years ago. Let me give you a brief history lesson. Back in the late 1980s the Cajun craze hit Los Angeles. Just about every restaurant was trying to blacken anything and everything. They started hiring New Orleans chefs. That’s when one of my childhood buddies, Big Daddy Callahan, got paid copius amounts of money to move to L.A. to cook. I might add that Big Daddy might be one of the best chefs I’ve ever known. I’m not just saying that. He’s that good. As kids, he whipped up stuff Emeril would dream of making. It’s not just me that thinks this. The whole world does. He’s been the executive chef at some of the finest establishments in the world, like the Watergate Hotel in Washington. But I digress. Because Big Daddy moved to L.A., I would go out to visit him. I would leave cold rainy weather in New Orleans during January and stay with Big Daddy in the San Fernando Valley. Every day I would ride a bike, run or hang out on the beach. Sunday was like one of those days. When I woke up, I knew it was going to be special. Instead of taking my car to one of my morning clients, I took my motorcycle. Even though it’s not as fuel efficient, I took the long way to each of my other clients. I wanted to soak in as much of the day as I could. At 2 p.m. I found myself at the shooting range in the Angeles National Forest. I usually take several guns with me. On this day, I took one. It was a Remington .270 model 700 bolt action. It’s the least accurate gun I own, partially because it’s old and has been shot a lot. My grandmother gave it to me when I was 15 as a Christmas gift. I bagged a lot of game with that gun over the years. Once I left the shooting range, it was back to work to see my evening clients. For most people, Sunday is a day of rest. Not for me. It’s just another day to work. I told you that to tell you this. As I left the Angeles National Forest, my throat got dry and started to burn. That’s a down side when you live in a dry place like L.A. on a day like today. So just before I wrote this piece I had a 12 ounce soda. It was a Vernors Ginger Soda. It went down so well. It cured my scratchy throat problem. That soda got me thinking. I don’t drink many sodas. Never have. If I drink anything with bubbles, it’s usually Pelligrino water. Sometimes I’ll have a Guinness beer. But that’s about it. When it comes to quenching thirst, I’m a water guy. That’s what the blog is about today…good old H2O. Most of my readers are health conscious. They go to the gym, hit a spin class from time to time and some hardcore people do ultra events like triathlons and so far. They are generally interested in their health and their body is a temple. They want to be at the peak of their athleticism. But all too often these same folks will do anything to quench their thirst. Anything but drink water. In my opinion, most sports drinks are not only as bad as sodas…they’re worse. They’re chock full of sugar, artificial colors and loaded with chemicals to stay stable. The next time you need a “sports drink” use the best sports drink on the planet…water. If it’s extremely hot where you are and you’re exercising, add an electrolyte. Some of my favorites: Salt stick, lava salt, nuun and e-caps.

I was talking to my nephew today. I know what you’re thinking. Wow, he talks to his nephew a lot. You would be right. I love my nephew and we seem to have a lot in common. The main difference, as I’ve said before, is he’s a real writer. I’m a hack. I don’t even put paragraphs in my blogs. I guess you can say it’s my “thing.” Here I am digressing in the first few sentences. We got into a conversation about how to make lots of money. Mike said something poignant. He said, “I used to do some fishing when I was a kid, but I was never very successful at it. I would dip a baited hook in the water, and every now and then, get lucky and pull one up.” He continued, “I’d go to school and hear from my friends about how they caught tons of fish.” I let him in on a secret. When I was a kid I used to go rabbit hunting with an Italian gentleman named Joe Latino. He grew up with my grandfather. He was nice enough to take me and his grandson Nicky hunting. We went practically every weekend during the season. I told Mike that every time I went with Mr. Latino and his friends, I would surely bag several rabbits. I was as young as 11 and 12 years old. With a single-shot shotgun I did this. Somehow the dogs knew how to get the rabbits to come right next to Nicky and I. By the time we hit 14, the Nickster and I would go hunting by ourselves. We would take the same beagles. We had semiautomatic shotguns with several rounds. Yet our rate of success went way down. Some days we didn’t even bag a single hare. But whenever we’d go with Mr. Latino and his friends, we would bag lots of rabbits. That’s when my buddy and I learned that hunting isn’t just about having good aim. It’s knowing how to work dogs. It’s about calling out and letting your dogs know where you are so they can push rabbits into your direction. There was no trick behind it. It was just good, solid hunting. I told you that to tell you this. Friends, family and others will often tell me the same story about how they joined a gym. They tell me how they would go religiously on a daily basis or every other day, yet don’t see any changes in their body. I ask them what they’re doing. They say, “You know, the machines.” I say, “Which machines?” I get any myriad of answers where people do what looks like an air movement of whatever they do on the machine. I ask if they’ve ever hired a fitness trainer. They usually say it comes with the membership. They usually then tell me about how the trainer wasn’t interested in training, but in selling. The point is simple. Whether fishing, hunting or exercising, you will only get out of it what you put into it. And you’re only going to be as good as the knowledge you have. Seek the knowledge. Find out who the best trainer is. If you want more information, write to me. I will give you this knowledge for free. No matter what you are looking for, the information is out there. Plenty of books have been written about this. One of my favorites is Starting Strength by Mark Rippetoe. I know it is about powerlifting, but Mark and I were cut from the same cloth. We are both around the same age, and we both were into powerlifting around the same time. His knowledge is second to none. Now if only I can find someone to teach me how to bowl. Maybe I will break 135 one day.

A client once asked me if I was locked in a prison cell and could only have one piece of exercise equipment for a year, what would it be. Without hesitation, as if I had thought of it a thousand times before (which I hadn’t), I answered with two quick words. Jump rope. The client looked at me somewhat startled. This woman had a lot of money. She had a beautiful gym. Most of her equipment was commercial quality. I loved that gym. I knew exactly why she asked the question. She wanted to know what her gym was missing. I had news for her, it wasn’t missing anything. She had a jump rope, and we used it often. I could tell her thought process had changed from her original question. She became more interested in why I would chose a jump rope if it were all I could use for a year. My answer: it’s the biggest bang for your buck. I said, think about it, if I had a treadmill I would still get the weight bearing exercise. For the uninitiated, that’s when you bear your own weight. It would do little for my arms. I then said if I had an exercise bike (or as we call them now “spinners”), though I would have cardio fitness, I would have no upper body workout. And I would give up the weight bearing part. Most weight lifting machines only work one muscle at a time. In my opinion, perfectly useless. Now a jump rope, there’s a different story. I get the weight bearing exercise, cardio fitness and I’m also working my shoulders and arm muscles. Not to mention one of my favorite new words that everyone loves to use, it helps my “core” whatever that means. I told you that to tell you this. I was talking to my nephew today, Mike. I like talking to him. He’s a journalist by trade. Like most journalists, he’s generally curious about how things really tick, and he’s more knowledgeable than most. He’s a man after my own heart. Mike is interested in being in shape. He recently lost 35 pounds on Weight Watchers. But due to the holidays and getting a little relaxed on the plan, he gained a few pounds back. Going back on the Weight Watchers program, he mentioned that this time he wanted to incorporate some exercise. He’s lucky because he gets me for free. He’s been asking a lot about exercises that are good for him. But today he asked me what exercise does the least for you. Just like with the jump rope, without stuttering, I said, two quick words. Sit ups. He was shocked. He said, “Wait a minute, the man that still has a 12 pack in his late 40s is telling me sit ups will do little to no good for me?” My answer was a resounding yes. Sit ups will do more for your hip flexors than your rectus abdominus. He then asked me how I kept the 12 pack all these years. I told him it’s pretty simple. Watch your calories. Don’t overeat. And do lots of aerobics. I told him I do less than 150 sit ups per week. In the interest of full disclosure, the sit ups are not the plain old kind. It’s usually different kinds of ab work. He wanted to know the recipe so I gave it to him. Increase aerobics, decrease caloric intake. That will give you a six pack. He then said, “It’s dark when I get home, how can I do aerobics?” Without hesitation, I said get a jump rope.

I’m going to start with a quick history lesson about one of the greatest comedy teams in history, the Three Stooges. Most know them as Moe, Larry and Curly. But there was a fourth Stooge that most people don’t know about. His name was Shemp. He was actually one of the original Stooges, but was replaced by Curly. Shemp would later return. My hometown once had a festival and parade for the forgotten Stooge. The Shemp Festival would go off each year on his birthday. I think Billy and the boys over at the First and Last Chance restaurant realized one day that it was Shemp’s birthday. As the story goes, a cream pie throwing contest ensued. There’s another person who’s been forgotten. It’s been almost impossible to forget this guy because we didn’t know who he really was. His name is Cooper Manning. Cooper is the older brother to the two Super MVPs of the NFL, Peyton and Eli. I had the pleasure of coaching Cooper when he was at Newman School in New Orleans. In my opinion, and the opinion of many, he was probably the most talented of the Mannings. He was just beginning to shine as an athlete at Ole Miss when he learned he had spinal stenosis. He had to leave football forever. I guess the world will never know what he could have been. I told you that to tell you this. Cooper showed up at Newman one day with a pair of training shoes that looked more like a Rube Goldberg project. It looked like a normal basketball shoe that had a clump of rubber on the front. It was an oversized heel on the toe box of the shoe. The claim was it would make you jump higher and give you more power and speed. My suggestion to the young Manning was to never put them on. If he didn’t trip or twist his ankle, he would rip his Achilles right from the calcaneus. Either way, I didn’t think the end result of this miracle shoe would be any good. Years later, in the 90s, Seinfeld did a spoof on this very shoe.

OK, folks we’re going to double clutch it here. I told you all of that to tell you this. I was on a bike ride with a few friends yesterday. One of my favorite pupils, Caroline (known from a previous post called 59 inches of inspiration), was on her road bike for the first time in a long time. Leading up to an event, she only rode her time trial bike. She told me it felt weird to be on the road bike. It was lighter and more agile. The first thing she noticed out in Thousand Oaks was that a lot of people were riding their tribikes. There’s no triathlons going on anywhere, at least not this close to Christmas. Where’s the advantage? My answer was no different from the answer I gave Cooper Manning. No, there’s no advantage. In fact, I could argue there is a disadvantage. Most pro cyclists, and a lot of pro triathletes, won’t ride a tri bike until they have to. These bikes are purpose built and uncomfortable at long distances. The only reason to ride it before the competition is to get used to it. I wouldn’t take it out on a daily basis, mainly because of the position. Your hip angles are closed down so much that you’re not causing your muscles to operate in an optimal way. Why would people ride them if it won’t help them become better athletes? I explained that people often do what they see others do, assuming it’s the right thing. Humans are like lemmings. We just seem to follow people right off any cliff they’re walking off of. Athletes often do things that are bad for them. Does this make them bad people? No. It’s just misinformation that becomes truth.