I have a knack for surprising people with a special talent: I’m fast. But there are a lot of fast people, and certainly most people are faster than me. So what’s the big surprise? I’m really fast…for a fat guy. Some have said that I’m deceptively fast. I just don’t look like I’d be quick, which is probably a better word for it. My quick bursts do not last long enough to make me a fast mile runner, because until last week, I hadn’t run a mile in over 5 years, partly because I wouldn’t want to, and partly because I couldn’t.
I used to brag about being a really fast fat guy. It didn’t bother me much. I wasn’t happy overall with my physique, but hey, at least Sarah still loved me, and at least I was still fast. But I don’t much feel like bragging about it anymore. I’ve grown tired of the instant joke material it creates. I do not like putting a shirt on in the morning and hoping it still fits. Sucking in to do up my pants doesn’t much appeal to me, either.
I don’t want to be fast for a fat guy anymore. I want to be viewed as kind of slow for being in such good shape. So I’ve been working hard. Thanks to the encouragement of Sarah and other friends – not to start, but to be successful – I’ve got my act mostly together. I’m no where near where I want to be, but I’m moving in that direction steadily.
I’ve cut out pop. I’ve begun counting and tracking my calories on the myfitnesspal app for my phone. I track my workouts. I go to the gym two or three times a week, and I’m committed to running and walking at least 2 miles (combined) one other day. I track my progress on my runs using the micoach app. And I didn’t start last week. I’ve held off on mentioning it until it became a solid part of my routine. Anyone can diet and exercise for two or three weeks straight. I know I’ve done it many times before. But this time, I think it’s different. I have goals, I have the tools, and I actually have the ambition. I’ve bee working out for 6 straight weeks, and I’ve lost 2 pounds per week all but two weeks. I don’t like missing the gym, which is what led to running in the first place. I have to exercise.
What are my ultimate goals? First, to throw away every pair of fat pants and never buy them again. I want to move down to at least a 32-inch waist, which means addressing the Starbucks’ proportioned muffin top above the waist. If I stay on track, that’s attainable by Christmas or shortly after. I hate shots, so I want to avoid diabetes, which runs in my family. I like clothes. I want to wear them and enjoy them and not hold my breath hoping to be able to button them without sucking in. And I want to honor Sarah, who’s gained all of 5 pounds in 10 years of marriage and carrying one child.
So I’m on a journey. Feel free to encourage me, and I look forward to the day when you say, “Huh. You know, you’re kind of slow.”