Thursday, July 25, 2013

Time to lose...

I've struggled with weight pretty much my whole life.  I've been up, I've been down.  Looked good, looked not so good - you get it.

I want to be healthy; give my children/wife a strong, healthy dad/husband, and more importantly:  to feel great.  I want to wake up some morning, feel like I could take on the world, and then actually feel like giving myself the "Buddy Christ" thumbs up when I look in the mirror.  I want to live that day, perfectly fueled and feeling great all day long…and then repeat that day after day for all the ones that come after that.

This is a lifestyle change.  It's not a diet, it's not a fad, it's not a trend.  It's my desire to change, little by little, bit by bit.

I've gotten fed up in the past, tried to do something, then failed.  But today, I'm doing two things I've never done before.

1 - I'm making myself accountable to you all.  I'm putting it all out there and exposing myself to the encouragement of forward progress, and the motivation to do better when it's not so forward.  

2 - and this is the fun part - I'm personifying my weight.  I'm a mathematician working in a quasi-financial role - I deal with numbers all day.  Their meaningless to me - plain rice/white bread/4 door sedan - boring.  Today I personify it.  I'm at 210 pounds currently; I want to lose 50 (yes - ambitious, but not rubbish).  I'm naming all 50 pounds.  When I'm running/lifting/eating well/playing with my kids, I want to know who I'm up against at that time…I don't want to think "ok, I'm at 35, going for 36" - I want to think "this week, I'm taking on Iris, Nadine, and Angelina."  Then it's a vendetta, then it's tangible, then it's personal.  And when I see that they're gone, up comes a new list of foes…not just a predictable number.  Game on.

You've likely noticed by now that I chose girl names…that is unless you happen to have dude friends named Iris, Nadine, or Angelina I guess.  I chose them for a reason, for meaning - and none of the names on the list were intended to be anyone I know - not even Tina :).  In fact, I didn't write the list - I got it from somewhere.  I'm betting the first person to pick up on it will be a guy, and will also realize that Lisa is in fact not the last name on the list - props to you if you've figured it out - now off to Google with the rest of you.

I'm going to beat this, and it's going to start now.  All forms of encouragement, support, one-upmanship, and peer pressure are welcomed.

So, here it is.  "The List".  DISCLAIMER:  This may take a while…

Pound 1:  Mary
Pound 2:  Barbara
Pound 3:  Lindsey
Pound 4:  Laura
Pound 5:  Alma
Pound 6:  Madeline
Pound 7:  Patricia
Pound 8:  Carol
Pound 9:  Daniela
Pound 10:  Stefanie
Pound 11:  Erin
Pound 12:  Pamela
Pound 13:  Stacey
Pound 14:  Anne
Pound 15:  Kate
Pound 16:  Vanessa
Pound 17:  Denise
Pound 18:  Diane
Pound 19:  Iris
Pound 20:  Nadine
Pound 21:  Angelina
Pound 22:  Rose
Pound 23:  Susan
Pound 24:  Megan
Pound 25:  Tracy
Pound 26:  Rachel
Pound 27:  Bernadene
Pound 28:  Deborah
Pound 29:  Gina
Pound 30:  Hillary
Pound 31:  Kimberley
Pound 32:  Dorothy
Pound 33:  Donna
Pound 34:  Samantha
Pound 35:  Ellen
Pound 36:  Gabriela
Pound 37:  Shannon
Pound 38:  Jessica
Pound 39:  Sharon
Pound 40:  Tina
Pound 41:  Marsha
Pound 42:  Natalie
Pound 43:  Virginia
Pound 44:  Tanya
Pound 45:  Grace
Pound 46:  Ashley
Pound 47:  Eleanor
Pound 48:  Cathy
Pound 49:  Lynn
Pound 50:  Lisa

Thursday, July 11, 2013

Confessions of Guilt from THE FUTURE: July 2014

I cried like an angry hungry baby today. I'm just glad I didn't soil myself while doing it. Me and a buddy ran the Tough Mudder today. We started training roughly a year ago, building up from a state (at least myself) of gravitationally secure video game experts, to the rough cut beasts of men we are today (how I managed to grow an extra foot taller in my late 30's I'll never know). Our training mostly prepared us...mostly.

The run was ok, the obstacles were fun for the most part; it all went well. Until the end. At the end of these things is a gauntlet of sorts, where you have to run through wet mud....and dangling electrical wires. I knew about them going in, and I thought I could beat them. I figured I'd see a bunch of determined men and women power right through with angry looks on their faces, but no. Not even the 4 rough and tumble firemen (who we ironically had to fireman's carry the last half of the race as it was just too much for them), who offered to go ahead of us as thanks, were able to muscle their way through it without screaming and squealing.

Bear Grylls, whom we had rescued from a rather precarious wall climb obstacle a few miles back, made it a bit further. But even he broke down to blind rage and panic long before the end. Incoherently babbling about turtlenecks and a fuzzy leprechaun. It got weird.

I made it about half way in before I dropped. I turtled hard. The world went somewhere else. I was a mess of sparks, tears, and tiny shreds of dignity. It was awful.

I thought of my girls, pulled myself together - gave a quick glance to my buddy to make sure he was doing the same and we made off. Each grabbing one of Bear's arms and a couple of firemen, we pulled them safely across the finish line and into the history books. We made it.

But I cried - a lot. And incase you were wondering - no, still no hoverboards.