Weight: 273 pounds
Distance: 2.2 miles (jog/walk)
I've been waiting for the big moment.
That moment that screams "I won't live this way anymore!" and "I'm better than this!"
That moment that those once-fat people on the talk shows refer to as the catalyst to their amazing weight loss and change in lifestyle.
That moment when the heavens part, the light shines down, the angels sing, and I'm hit with a powerful revelation that turns my life around forever.
It hasn't happened.
I am nearly 300 pounds, I get tired going up a single flight of stairs, my knees and hips hurt all the time, and I haven't had a pair of pants that fit well in 10 years. I wheeze, I snore, I stuff my face with greasy goodness, and I sit in an office chair for 8+ hours a day. I've got a beautiful family, a great job, terrific friends, and at this rate, I'LL NEVER MAKE IT TO 50. All of this, and it STILL wasn't enough to get off my lard ass and do something about it.
So what did it?
I started training for a marathon this morning ON A WHIM.
I hate running, fat people don't run well, and my schedule is plenty full as it is. So why do a marathon?
It dawned on me this morning that a marathon isn't something that I'm expected to do well. No one looks at me as a threat to beat them in a marathon. The guys in the front of the race don't look over at me before the gun goes off and think that they're in for a challenge. I don't even know what a fast time in a marathon is. All I know is that it has a start, a finish, and 26.2 miles in between. In fact, speed doesn't matter to me at all. Only SURVIVAL matters.
When I look at it that way, it actually seems doable. I have one, very simple, very clear goal: SURVIVE. In a way, it's a metaphor (or simile, or whatever the heck it is) for my life packed into a single year. I don't really need to focus on diet, or exercise, or cholesterol (which I LOVE, by the way), or any of those other IMPOSSIBLE tasks that fat people obsess over. I just need to aim for survival.
Seems like something pretty worth while.