Thanks to the fact that I’m a blogger, I can look back on just about any time in my life and see it in print. I just read about moving to Darktide in AC. I read about my new template. I read a letter to my sister I wrote seven years ago. All in search for my entries about losing weight.
I work out pretty hard these days. At least, I like to think so. But looking back on my journal I see that I am fooling myself.
Losing weight is hard. It is hard work.
No matter what country I am in, I smile at the people who have no idea how to lose weight. They hop on a bike with a book, pedal nonchalantly for thirty minutes and proudly proclaim “I did thirty minutes on the bike.”
Really? Why aren’t you sweating then?
I run three times a week and I think I’m doing good. Which I am. But if I want to lose the weight that I really want to lose, I need to do more than double that. Twelve years of marriage and ten years of Magic and video games bloated me up to 213 lbs. My brother came home for thanksgiving, took one look at me, laughed, and said “Man, you got FAT!”
Marilyn lit into him about his bald spot. Don’t mess with her man.
But he was right. I was fat.
When Marilyn passed away I needed to get back into shape, cause, well, I like women. My journal from those days is insane.
8:00 a.m. Ran 1.5 miles.
6:00 p.m. Rode stationary bike for forty minutes.
7:00 p.m. Three sets of curls, three sets of shoulder press, three sets of pushups.
9:30 p.m. Rode bike for thirty minutes.
I showered twice a day. Once before work and once before I climbed into bed.
I changed my diet from McDonalds to fresh fish. I ate six inch sandwiches at Subway. I switched from white bread to wheat.
I lost 40 lbs.
That’s what it takes to lose weight.