The Fire in My Belly

When I started this process, I think the Tanita body composition scale said I was something like 200 pounds over-weight. I had a BMI of nearly 50. I really have yet to improve upon those numbers that much. Maybe more importantly of note, I had lived an ever-deteriorating sedentary lifestyle (how could I not have with those numbers?)

Over the two years prior to the start of my change I more and more often felt disabled. It's not that I was lamenting not being able to run a marathon, but that I couldn't do normal, able-bodied person things like stand up for an extended period, for example. I began to avoid everyday, common situations that might be too physically demanding for me. A social invitation had to be analysed: Could I fit in the booth at that restaurant? Could I handle being outside in the heat at a barbecue? I was feeling less and less capable. I was concerned that I was becoming truly disabled.

A severely overweight person misses out on a lot of things. Lacking speed and agility on the playground as a kid was only the beginning of my life's problems, not to mention the social stigma of being overweight (I wonder if it's any easier nowadays since there a lot more kids with weight problems.) The one time I tried out for organized sports when I was a child, I was sent home for being too heavy. There was a weight limit on the pee-wee football team. I could give you a thousand such examples. I  won't give them all to you at once, but I'll spread some of them out in other posts over time.

A fat person grows up feeling shackled, unable to do everything that a normal (healthy) person does, unable to live life to the fullest, unable to do everything they want to. Every day growing up they are more and more conditioned into believing they are not equal to the healthy majority.

This is why there's a fire in my belly. An exercise fire. I am determined to change my body to make it the healthiest, strongest, most capable I can. And walking's just not going to cut it.

I've been told for years by medical professionals to walk. Walking is healthy and is an excellent exercise for anyone of any age and any fitness level. But it only goes so far in changing the body to make it all it can be. I yearn to be more fit.

The fire was stoked last night when I went on a bike ride with my young son through every nook and cranny of our subdivision. It was casual, it was easy and I felt like I did when I was a kid. It brought me back to moments and evenings of riding my bike when I was young and the feelings of freedom and the fun that I had. Throughout the years, and through many bicycles, I've often felt I had a special relationship with my given bike of the day that involved bonding and trust. I once again have that relationship with my bike. If that sounds hokey, you've never been a passionate cyclist.

Those around me through the years have sometimes categorized me as someone who won't grow up. A very few frustrating people have thumbed their noses at me every time I did or said something less than serious. I pity this type of serious, constrained, often joyless person. There's nothing wrong with having fun and letting your guard down as an adult. There's nothing wrong we staying young. I've been a happier person and a better person for it.

But a person with a serious weight problem frequently misses out on those good feelings for all kinds of reasons. We often feel restrictions from being socially ostracised, not being able to participate in everything that life has to offer, or simply from the mindset you develop where you think you can't or shouldn't do a lot of things because of your weight. I never allowed myself to swim in public, for example (more on that on another day.) Is there anything more fun than playing in water? I missed out on that.

My medical professionals always seem to be telling me to take it easy and concentrate on changing my lifestyle in a lasting way. They remind me to be patient. But once the shackles start coming off, you want it all. If a person confined to a wheel chair for much of his or her life could suddenly walk, I'm sure they'd want to run. And run and run! That analogy might be a little overblown, but I hope it helps you better understand how I feel.

I do worry that, like with so many other things with me, it'll be all or nothing when it comes to fitness. I fear that I might not have the time or enthusiasm some day and just stop (again.)

For now, though, my life-long profession is that of athlete. I want to become a little more fit every day and start taking back what I've missed out on. That means jogging, cycling and having access to equipment at the gym. At the core of my fitness routine will be walking, but there's so much more my body is capable of, and it's exhilarating to discover that every day.