The 4-Hour Body_ An Uncommon Guide to Ra - Timothy Ferriss [59]
End of Chapter Notes
15. Men acutely exposed to cold for two hours (in a liquid-conditioned suit perfused with 10°C [50°F] water) have been observed to increase heat production by 2.6-fold and increase the oxidation rate of plasma glucose by 138%, of muscle glycogen by 109%, and of lipids by 376%. Raising the body’s heat in response to cold exposure is done mostly by burning lipids (50%), then glycogen from muscles (30%), then blood glucose and proteins (10% each).
16. (176.5 – 46.9)/1,000 g/min * 120 min * 9 cal/g.
17. Shivering also contributes to increased muscular GLUT-4 activity, just like air squats.
18. This energy “wasting” is possible due to an uncoupling protein called UCP1, also known aptly as thermogenin.
19. Ephedrine and clenbuterol, neither of which I recommend, are two examples of b-agonists. According to reliable sources interviewed for this book, several infomercial fitness celebrities achieved their amazing transformations with abuse of clenbuterol, not the exercise they claim responsible. “Clen” works, but don’t count on your endocrine system working properly after megadoses.
20. This evening decline is largely true only for non-obese people; obese individuals tend to have uniformly depressed insulin sensitivity at all times.
21. Nickname courtesy of one test subject in 2009.
THE GLUCOSE SWITCH
Beautiful Number 100
DISCLAIMER: This chapter discusses the use of medical devices. Speak with your medical professional before jabbing such gadgets in your flesh.
Everything is a miracle. It is a miracle that one does not dissolve in one’s bath like a lump of sugar.
—Pablo Picasso
7:00 A.M. PST, SECURITY LINE, DELTA AIRLINES
My hands were sweating.
Rehearsing one-line explanations in my head was getting tiring, and the queue ahead of me wasn’t getting shorter. I started shifting impatiently from foot to foot, like a boxer waiting for the bell, or a three-year old preparing to wee himself.
Understandably, this behavior made the older midwestern couple to my right nervous. I considered telling them, “Just be glad I didn’t go with plan A,” but I had a feeling this would make things worse.
Plan A, to be clear, was awesomely stupid.
Plan A was to wear a 50-pound weighted vest through security and onto the plane headed for Central America.
Two days earlier, I’d explained the rationale to a friend:
“I don’t know if the gyms will have what we need, so I would at least have the vest.”
“Hmmmm … okay.”
“But it’s too heavy to check as luggage, so I’ll just wear it. The only downside is it might be impossible to get in the overhead bin, so I’d have to wear the damn thing for the whole flight. The two-pound bricks are clearly made of dense black plastic, though, so security shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Bricks? Ha ha ha … yes, a great idea. Well, give me a call once you have a security boot on your head and an assault rifle in your eye. Dude, that’s a TERRIBLE idea.”
“You think?”
“Suicide bomber jacket? Yes, I think.”
So the vest remained at home.
But that was just one carry-on item. Fortunately, the metal detectors didn’t pick up plan B, which wasn’t on me but in me. This required some tact. I moved to a restaurant near to my gate to check on things. Something was wrong.
Sitting in the darkest corner I could find, I pulled up the side of my shirt and surveyed the damage. The sensor wasn’t working.
“Motherf*cker,” I muttered as I winced and slowly pulled it out of my abdomen. I held up the two metal prongs I’d inserted under my skin the night before and looked at them from all angles like a diamond. No visible problem. Perhaps the metal detectors screwed it up.
The Nicaraguans at the closest table had stopped eating and were all staring at me with mouths agape.
“No pasa nada. Soy diabético.” Nothing’s wrong. I’m a diabetic. That was the easiest explanation I could offer, even though I wasn’t a diabetic. They nodded and went back to eating.
I ordered coffee and pulled out a notebook. Despite this minor glitch, I already