League of Extraordinary Middle Age Gentlemen
Apparently, I'm not alone in this fitness frenzy. There is a chime of recognition in the eyes of many of my colleagues, friends and family when it comes to mortality creep, and the need to bend back the scythe of the Grim Reaper. We are the League of Extraordinary Middle Age Gentlemen, who wore Speedos with pride in the 70's, danced and drank way too much partying to the great hair bands in the 80's, and tried to hold on to our youth with bleached jeans in the 90's. As the first decade of the new Millennium came to a close many of us are forging through our 40's while others are flirting with the 50's. We have aged, most definitely, some better than others.
What's especially interesting to me is that I honestly didn't care what I ate or drank or how much exercise I did or didn't get until a few weeks ago. It just didn't matter how many bags of chips I inhaled or how high the pile of empty beer bottles was getting in the garage. I generally felt healthy and happy, and paid absolutely no mind to my expanding waistline. I playfully referred to myself as becoming "pleasantly plump", although I didn't really believe it. So why the wake up call? Why now?
I'm not sure, but the need to expeditiously become a slimmer and trimmer person hit me upside the head. It was like a premonitory wind that came up in December and blew me over on Boxing Day. My wife has been gently encouraging me to eat better for a long time, to try out her yoga classes and her raw food concoctions, to take care of myself. I smiled and waved and carried on with the consumption of heaping helpings of unhealthy food at all hours and all portions--invincible.
Watching the scale move down in tiny minuscule steps, I embrace the fact that getting anywhere close to my ideal weight of 170 pounds is going to take time, and lots of it. So, as the meter starts to drop I plan to celebrate the victories along the way. Getting below 200 will be the first major milestone. From there, 190 and beyond, to territory I have not seen for at least 15 years.
January 5, 2010 - 204.8 pounds, 31.0 % body fat
What's especially interesting to me is that I honestly didn't care what I ate or drank or how much exercise I did or didn't get until a few weeks ago. It just didn't matter how many bags of chips I inhaled or how high the pile of empty beer bottles was getting in the garage. I generally felt healthy and happy, and paid absolutely no mind to my expanding waistline. I playfully referred to myself as becoming "pleasantly plump", although I didn't really believe it. So why the wake up call? Why now?
I'm not sure, but the need to expeditiously become a slimmer and trimmer person hit me upside the head. It was like a premonitory wind that came up in December and blew me over on Boxing Day. My wife has been gently encouraging me to eat better for a long time, to try out her yoga classes and her raw food concoctions, to take care of myself. I smiled and waved and carried on with the consumption of heaping helpings of unhealthy food at all hours and all portions--invincible.
Watching the scale move down in tiny minuscule steps, I embrace the fact that getting anywhere close to my ideal weight of 170 pounds is going to take time, and lots of it. So, as the meter starts to drop I plan to celebrate the victories along the way. Getting below 200 will be the first major milestone. From there, 190 and beyond, to territory I have not seen for at least 15 years.
January 5, 2010 - 204.8 pounds, 31.0 % body fat
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