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Dig Deep
I’ve never been good at sports. In high school I dabbled in football and basketball, not because I enjoyed it but because I thought it would impress the girls. After I graduated, my interest in running around getting all sweaty diminished even further. I just couldn’t see the point of burning energy that fast only to wake up the next morning with aches and pains in parts of my body I never knew I had. It never worked on the girls either.
Now, I’m not saying I was a couch potato. Of course I knew all about how important regular exercise and a healthy nutrition was. The thing is,
I felt okay.
I’ve never smoked. I never had any problems climbing a couple of flights of stairs and those few extra pounds around my belly never really bothered me. In fact, on our very first date the girl who later became my wife actually told me she kinda’ loved the ‘cuddly bear’ look!
So yeah, body wise, I was at peace. Me and the wife would take a vacation once a year and we’d make a point of walking everywhere. And I mean literally everywhere; sandy beaches, mountain paths, forest trails. Not a camel ride, pony trek or a rickshaw in sight. We’d come home feeling fit, refreshed and relaxed. It was enough for us. We were happy. Then one by one the kids came along and we became even happier. Sure, our vacations changed. We never hiked as much with the kids as we did without them. But that was okay too.
Like everyone else I know, I fell into a comfortable routine. I had a 9 to 5 office job I enjoyed. Fridays I’d go for a few beers with the guys. Weekends were for shopping trips. Thursday night was pizza night. You know the kind of thing, right? Average, slightly boring but also nice and safe. Secure even.
I had what I thought was a ‘normal’ lifestyle.
Then a few years back I went to see my local doc for the yearly check-up. I was totally oblivious. Apart from the odd colds and flu I had never been seriously ill in my life. I always thought I must have been blessed that way. Sure, I expected the doctor would gripe a little about my blood pressure and suggest I ate less and took more exercise. No big deal. I felt as fit as a horse.
But what the doctor actually said made my jaw hit the floor!
Turned out I was obese. Obese! Me! I felt like someone had just sneaked up from behind and pulled the rug out from under my feet. Driving back home that word kept reverberating around the inside of my skull like an ominous echo. I had guessed I was a little overweight. But obese? I’ll be honest with you and admit it scared me. Obese people had heart attacks. They developed diabetes. All kinds of nasty stuff. They’d break out into a cold sweat just from reaching for the TV remote. Didn’t they?
By the time I got home I decided that wasn’t going to be me. I was going to lose weight. Fast. I was going to get myself fit and live to be a hundred. Or something like that. I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I had about a million vague thoughts flying around inside my head and some of them frightened the pants off me. But as I got out of my car and walked the few yards to the house I made up my mind to change my life.
