Life in the Fast Lane

By: Sean | March 3rd, 2009

The title of this post may be a little misleading. You may read it and assume that this is going to be about the glamorous, high-octane, fast-paced lifestyle of being a recreational adult soccer team manager: The wild sex, drugs and rock and roll mayhem. The blinding pressure to succeed. The shady mobster dealings and blackmailing–oh, wait. I’m confusing my life with most every episode of “Dream Team.” Never mind.

Once a year for 40+ days or so, I put myself on a fast during the season of Lent. It is just something I do to exercise a little discipline, lose some of that pesky holiday weight, and prepare for Easter. I don’t get preachy with it. I don’t encourage others to do it, either. I try really hard to keep it low-key. However, every Wednesday night at indoor for six weeks–and now Sundays since I’m playing winter outdoor–I really feel it on the pitch…’cause I got very little to nuthin’ in the tank.

The fast isn’t as bad as it sounds. I limit myself to 1000-1200 calories a day, down from my usual pizza and Mexican food fueled 2500-2800 calories I’m guessing I would normally eat. Mmm…pizza. I also set a minimum weight that I won’t allow myself to fall under. Last year, I dropped from 180 lbs. to 165 lbs. I’ll probably be real close again this year. If I hit 160, then I stop fasting. During the course of a regular work day, the diet plan is pretty easy to stick to and, minor stomach rumblings aside, not too arduous. Oatmeal and water for breakfast: 170 calories. Soup and water for lunch: 150 calories. By the time dinner hits, I can eat pretty much whatever my girls are having and feel fine. Soccer nights, however, put a damper on this arrangement.

Last week, Ash Wednesday, was the first day. The first day/week is generally the worst. Because of my daughter’s practice schedule, I didn’t get to “top out” to 1200 calories before my indoor match. I knew it was going to be a rough night when two warm-up runs left me feeling gassed. The pervasive smell of popcorn and that warm processed cheese sauce for the nachos seemed to be stronger than usual. Mmm…warm processed nacho cheese sauce. I subbed out after less than two minutes. Midway through the first half our side got a break with numbers and I was fed a beautiful gift of a lay-off pass with not even the keeper to beat. Seanny managed to shoot the ball off his own plant leg and send it over the net from a distance of about four yards. It seemed like my whole night went that way. The only reason my shifts went longer than two minutes was because I was playing the last back and our offense/midfield was owning the opposition’s half of the field, leaving me with little to do. When I did need to run, everything seemed like it was, well, not quite in slow motion, but definitely not at the same speed everything else was going. When I did score late in the second half, it was actually supposed to be a cross but I slammed my boot into the ground just before I hit the ball and it roofed the goal instead of sliding over to the striker. Whatever. Good enough reason to sub out!

At the final buzzer, forty-four minutes later, there was nothing left. My gut was growling. My head ached. I felt a little detached from everything except the sweet aroma of the warm processed nacho cheese sauce. My G2 “Gatorade Lite” did nothing to quell my appetite and after hanging out with my team in the arena bar for a bit over popcorn and beer–mmm…popcorn and beer–I stumbled home and dreamed of chocolate. Mmm…chocolate. I’m not sure how I can use my ongoing starvation to my advantage on the pitch through April. Will it make me hungrier for every 50-50 ball? Too much of a cliché. Will it give me better nutritional insight into my diet so I can eat and prepare more effectively? Come April 12th I am going to gorge on the first dessert placed in front of me until the entire thing has found a happy new home in my lower intestine. If the opposing keeper is giving me shit and hassling me in the box, will I eat “his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti?” Mmm…fava beans…I think fava beans are low in calories…

Final note: The image for this post is a lovely soccer-themed cake. Imagining the entire pitch as a delicious baked treat seemed so much more appropriate than using a picture associated with, say, cannibalism, which I did also Google. Now I have to explain to my wife why “images+cannibalism” appears in my browser history.