Myth of frontier hardihood takes a beating in CDC report

Well, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention picked a fine time to call us fat. Released shortly before Thanksgiving, their obesity report has us ranked as the 22nd-heaviest state in the union, a little above the national average. That's not so bad. But to rank as the fattest state west of Texas?

That's embarrassing.

How does this square with mushers and mountain runners, cyclists and skiers and obsessive triathletes? How does this square with the burgeoning popularity of the Tuesday Night Race Series in Anchorage -- runners of all ages burning calories and boosting endorphins, with nary a Big Mac wrapper in sight?

We've got Kikkan Randall, for crying out loud.

And state health officials compare us with the "stroke belt" states of the Southeast?

When's the last time any of us ordered a double cheeseburger, large fries, sweet iced tea and a moon pie?

Maybe we can take heart in the cautions about the report -- small sampling sizes may skew results. On the other hand, officials say we may be even stouter or fuller-figured than the numbers suggest, given that both men and women tend to overstate their height and women tend to understate their weight.

Then there's the obligatory what-it-costs figure. This one says $477 million in medical costs associated with obesity. Staggering. But that doesn't mean we'd save $477 million and see our insurance rates go down if every Alaskan had six-pack abs, gym memberships and a compulsive desire for salads.

So what do we do, besides walk away from that lemon meringue leftover in the fridge?

First, recognize some troubling truths. Winter isn't as hard on most of us as it used to be. Cold used to burn more of those calories when we were actually out in the cold more. Old-timers didn't worry about weight while wielding an ax at the woodpile. Now hunters drive four-wheelers where they used to walk.

Some of us have become skilled indoorsmen. The Internet and increasingly sophisticated video games have become increasingly addictive. Why embrace winter when you can escape it nestled in a chair -- or, if you're not too far gone, on your feet simulating reality as a snowboarder or rock icon? Virtual reality isn't a sci-fi theme anymore. It's here.

This is not to make light of our physical condition. Rural Alaska, where life's demands once made fitness, stamina and self-discipline essential, suffers some of the highest rates of obesity, according to the CDC. That's not good news in villages where not long ago subsistence living in hungry country kept people from going soft. They weren't necessarily svelte, but healthier.

Second, Alaskans could stand to eat better. As epidemiologist Andrea Fenaughty pointed out in the Friday front-page story, blaming urban Alaskans' girth on our wealth of fast-food outlets is simplistic. Maybe we eat for comfort -- as antidote to darkness, as balm for daily lives too caffeinated and rushed, where convenience trumps nutrition. We eat like we drive -- too fast, too distracted.

As for exercise, we need more. Move it or fail to lose it.

And even if you're not inclined to leap into winter and don't give a fig what the CDC says, go take the dog for a walk and take a few minutes off the daily treadmill. You'll improve your mood, increase your circulation and sharpen your mind. You and your family will be better off -- and you'll be better at that interactive video-game challenge, less inclined to reach for the chips.

BOTTOM LINE: CDC says we're getting a little soft around the middle. That changes, starting tomorrow ...