Showing posts with label motivation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motivation. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

To Share, or Not to Share

Days until Marathon: 361
Weight: 273 pounds
Distance: 2.4 miles (jog/walk)
Total miles: 7.2

Every fat person has hefty goals (pun intended). Those goals always involve eating better, exercising, and losing a MASSIVE amount of weight.

No fat person ever sets a goal of losing 5-10 pounds.

Instead, we concoct a beautiful dream of someday walking around shirtless in the hot summer sun as we mow the yard. Proudly displaying our newly unpacked six-pack to all the neighbors and passersby.

Well, that's my dream anyway...

Unfortunately, I'm about 80 pounds away from even thinking about doing anything resembling "shirtless." I don't even shower shirtless anymore. Laundry and hygiene at the same time is multitasking in my book. Plus, I need a support bra just to start the mower without seriously injuring myself.

Fat people set mostly unreachable goals about every 20 minutes or so (heck, I've set a few since I started typing). Typically, in the excitement of the moment, we even take one or two steps toward achieving them: we eat a light lunch, we walk on the treadmill, we read up on the "all new" cabbage diet, etc. Shortly thereafter, however, we cave to uncontrollable depression/weakness/Pringles, and start over. This process tends to take about an hour, from start to finish, and occurs several times a day.

Big goals are the downfall of big people.

Often times, we husky-folk keep our fantasies of weight-loss to ourselves. Maybe we are shy. Maybe we are afraid that we'll fail and look silly to those we've told. Maybe we would like it to be a big surprise when we show up to work one day, 80 pounds lighter, and people shower us with compliments about how attractive we are...or maybe that's just me. At any rate, our silence tends to take the sting out of the impending failure. It also allows us to fail MUCH more easily.

Sometimes, we portly-people like to declare our intentions to a select few. Maybe we share it in order to bolster our courage. Maybe we are looking for a partner to support us along the journey. Maybe we need a confidant to grab an extra large pizza with when nobody else is around to ask us, "are you sure you want to be eating that?" Given a day or two, after the initial goal setting rush wears off, we stop talking about it, and it fades away. Weeks later, someone will ask, "how's the diet comin'?" and we'll respond, "oh fine," then kick ourselves for ever coming up with that stupid goal.

This time, I'm trying something new. I'm taking the goal sharing idea to a whole new level. I'm not just telling a few people around me, or just my friends and family. I'M TELLING THE WHOLE FRICKIN' WORLD.

I'm posting my run summaries on Facebook. My calorie intake is on my cubicle wall. I'm writing a blog, for crying out loud. I tell every person that I meet that I'M GOING TO RUN A MARATHON. I am forcing myself to think about and confront my goal every moment of every day, because I see it and hear it and feel it EVERYWHERE.

So, in 361 days, I will either be able to celebrate my accomplishment with a LOT of people, or I will experience a failure of epic proportions in front of every person I've ever come in contact with my entire life.

There's no half way, and for now, that's keeping me going.

Friday, April 30, 2010

Getting off my Lard Ass: Day 1

Days until Marathon: 366
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?

Nothing.

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.