Post by D B DavisPost by h***@gmail.comPost by Dan TilquePost by h***@gmail.comPost by Dan TilquePost by m***@sky.comReducing fat is most easily accomplished with diet, not exercise.
Depends on how much exercise you do. Do enough vigorous exercise and
you'll lose weight. Most people don't do enough exercise of any sort.
It's about 3500 calories to lose 1lb of fat
Cycling is 450-750 calories per hour.
So it's a lot of time needed, then there's the point that the exercise
gene rally does make you eat more...
Losing weight and keeping it off is damned tough
You apparently are unaware of EPOC (excess post-exercise oxygen
consumption). If you exercise hard enough, your metabolism is raised for
a period afterwards[1] and you burn more calories than normal. The key
is the exercise has to be hard. Interval training or climbing steep
hills on a bike, for example. Moderate exercise, which for some reason
is usually recommended, won't do it.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Excess_post-exercise_oxygen_consumption
[1] 14 hours according to one study I saw. The subjects of that study
were non-athlete college students doing what I consider to be vigorous,
but not extreme, exercise. I think most professional athletes, when in
training, are in a state of constant EPOC.
https://www.livestrong.com/article/485498-does-exercise-raise-your-metabolic-rate-for-several-hours-after-the-workout/
suggests an average of an extra 190 calories from basal metabolic rate
spread over 14 hours.
So we're looking at the aftereffects of about 18 sessions to burn a lb of fat.
Allow me to share some anecdotal evidence with the group. It's
predictable for me to lose two to four pounds bicycling up the mountain
on a hot summer day. A lot of that is sweat. My wife tells me that a
dancer, Michael Flatley for instance, can lose up to five pounds over
the course of one performance.
In my case, the bike ride has to go all the way up to the top of the
mountain in order to melt away pounds. Rolling around in the foothills,
even uphill, doesn't do it.
The summit makes me golden. When my _Perry Rhodan_'s pulled out and
read something magical happens. My consciousness travels back in time;
regresses to the golden age of science fiction once more. An age when
limitless energy was on tap. An age when the world was full of limitless
possibilities.
It's the endorphins, you see, and apparently also EPOC, as pointed
out above. An endorphin high with a EPOC kicker.
Harold Soloman was a professional tennis player of the 1970s, with a highest
world ranking of number 5 in 1980. He was largely a defensive player,
nick-named "the human backboard". Some of the best tennis of his career was
at the 1976 French Open, where he lost in the final to Adriano Panatta,
after beating Guillermo Villas and Raul Ramirez. The following is from
Curry Kirkpatrick's account in _Sports Illustrated_:
Before he put away Taroczy, Ramirez had swept quietly through four matches
with the loss of only 19 games. On the other hand, his semifinals opponent,
Solomon, had acted out his usual passion play in Paris, rallying from
desperate straits in three different matches. When he reached the quarterfinal
against the ever-brilliant Guillermo Vilas, Solomon was psyched up and ready
to attack.
"I'm smacking it as hard as I can for as long as I can," Solomon said. "I'm
going to win or they'll have to carry me out on a stretcher."
The two groundstroke specialists began their hammer and spin contest from
the baselines early in the evening, splitting two one-sided sets before
Vilas arrived at 6-all in the third set, 6-5 in the tie break, set point.
The Argentine blasted a certain forehand winner into the corner, but
Solomon raced four feet out of court to jerk a two-fisted backhand down
the line past Vilas' racket and into the hearts of little men everywhere.
Dispirited, Vilas made two errors to lose the set, then succumbed completely
in the fourth under the gathering shadows.
By that time most of the players and officials were enjoying their tennis
night at the Moulin Rouge featuring an assortment of jugglers, acrobats,
performing dolphins and a certain amount of naked flesh. But Solomon had left
a ton of his own out there in the dirt. "I'll never forget that backhand,"
he said after his 6-1, 0-6, 7-6, 6-1 victory. "I pulled that one out of you
know where."
He still had a few left for Ramirez in the semis. Again it was an intense,
even struggle. Again Solomon fell behind. And again in a key sequence he
pulled off some marvelous shots to swing the match. This time Ramirez led
in the fifth set 4-2 and was serving at 40-15, one point from a 5-2 margin.
But the Mexican chose to serve and go to the net, and he was punished for it.
After four successive gutsy Solomon winners—the last a slashing overhead
backhand volley—Ramirez appeared to be stunned. Solomon had broken back to
3-4 and he ran out the set with the loss of only four more points and won
6-7, 6-0, 4-6, 6-4, 6-4.
The courtside temperature was posted as 52° Centigrade, which would be over
125° Fahrenheit, which would be ridiculous. Or would it? "I drank 22 bottles
of water and lost nine pounds," said Solomon, who weighed 138' before the
match. "I've never in my life been so exhausted."
I seem to recall reading that the water bottles were about a half-pint
each, which would correct for a quarter-liter. Assuming 250 milliliters,
22 bottles would be twelve pounds, so he sweated off 21 pounds total.
Peter Wezeman
anti-social Darwinist