My Magic Number

During college I weighed somewhere around the neighborhood of 230-235lbs. And no, I didn't play High School football.

The Navy always said my "ideal" weight was about 164lbs. At the most I should be under 185lbs. I have NEVER hit that mark, not when I entered the Navy, nor even when I finished boot camp where I spent an extra 3 or 4 weeks in their "fat body" division where we exercised more times per day than normal divisions, were not allowed any sweets or sodas, and had to attend a once-per-week nutrition class where they used realistic models to show us what fat was supposed to look like. As I sat and stared at the wriggling, yellow mass, I thought to myself "am I ever going to get out of this "fat body" division?

So the weeks went on, and I dropped a pound here, a pound there, all trying to reach a magical number of 185lbs. so I could rejoin the normal folks and proceed with my military training. The big day came - weigh ins. I took my place on the scale while a pretty older lady watched the balance teeter back and forth... move forward or be cast back into purgatory. 186lbs. There was a moment when the woman looked at me that broke my heart, and it wasn't until later I figured out she looked that way because I had just broken hers. The look of desperation, depression and hopelessness my face portrayed at seeing 186 must have been too much for her to stand. She whispered "That's close enough." to me, and I watched as she wrote my magic number - 185 down on her clipboard. I was free. I was free.

When I graduated boot camp, I was between 186 and 190lbs. When my girlfriend saw me for the first time, she cried because she thought I was ill. Pale, thin, and with sunken-in cheeks, she honestly thought I was a terminal patient. I felt weak, even though I was in the best shape I'd ever been.

It wasn't long after boot camp that I started slowly creeping up and up, away from my magic number, slowly putting back on the lbs I'd lost. Size 36 pants got tight, and I was just about to slip comfortably into a 38 when I got accepted for Officer Candidate school - boot camp for officers. So back I went, marching, drilling, PT for 18 hours a day and when I left, I was around 190lbs. I felt good, I didn't look like I'd been starved to death, and I could easily pass the Physical Fitness Test (PFT).

Of course, good things never seem to last, and three years later I was approaching 220lbs and definitely needed the 38 pants. There was a trade off of sorts, however, because I was strong as an ox - could "max out" the push ups and sit ups requirements for the PFT, although I still only scored "Good" on the 1.5 mile run. I got around the weight requirements by having my body fat percentage taken, or the old "rope 'n choke" as it was commonly called, using a tape measure and a seemingly random chart. With a little bit of gut-sucking and neck expanding, I could make the requirement easily, making it look on paper that I was within standards.

In 2007 I resigned from the Navy, weighing a hefty 225lbs. That was the first of May. As I write this, July 30th, my bathroom scale announced to me that I am the proud owner of 242.5lbs of "fat body". Did I mention I'm 5'9" on a good day?

I often would see morbidly obese people (300-400 or more pounds) and wonder "Why did they let themselves get this way? Didn't they know this would happen?" Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have turned to face the mirror and realized I am standing at that hypothetical point I wondered about. I have gained approx 5 lbs per month since I left the Navy, and if I keep going, I'll weigh 265lbs by Christmas. This is simply unacceptable. I've got a 6 month old son that I won't be able to keep up with, or help if he is in trouble.

So as of today, my new magic number is 200. The Navy's number made me weak and pale, and I'm over 30 now, so I have to allow for a little bit extra. 200 should allow me to feel and look better as well as be strong enough to handle whatever activity my son wants to throw my way. This will not be easy. I am going to document my progress, win or fail here to keep track and make me feel it when I'm starting to give up. While 200 is my magic number, the true test is whether or not I can comfortably fit back into my XL shirts and 38 waist pants. The belt holes never lie, and I'm out to my last one.

Here's to 200. Let's do the work.

Sine Metu

Another Year Goes By - The Changes Stay The Same

So, we're coming up again on another birthday. It makes me think back over the last year and see what's different; what changes have come and how they've affected my life.

This time last year I was still in the Navy, working a boring desk job and hating every minute of it. I was about 20lbs lighter, and didn't know that in two days I would find out that I was going to be a father.

I no longer have that desk job, and thus no income! Luckily we've stashed enough away to live for a little while, during which time I'm trying to breathe life into a business - ever inflated a hot water bottle with your mouth? Kind of like that. Hard, but not impossible. Time's a ticking though, and I figure that if I haven't created income by Christmas, it's time to dust off the ol' resume and hit the streets for your standard 9 to 5'er. Of course, me going to work for someone now would be like trying to pour raindrops back into a cloud. It's possible, but all you get is hail.

My son was born in January, 6 weeks early and had to stay in what I affectionately called a "baby baker" for a few weeks until he finished developing the ability to eat on his own. Born 4lb 9oz, he's 6 months old and over 16lbs. The doctor has officially taken him off the "premie" charts and started sizing him up with the "normies". 6 months old and already being held to a higher standard...who'd have thought? Now, the insurance companies on the other hand have a problem with that 6 week early arrival and refuse to cover him medically - even after a letter from his doctor stating he does not nor ever had any medical issues. Sometimes the "computer says no" mentality really gets my blood boiling.

My wife's birthday is the day before mine, which means she's a year older as well. While I look in the mirror and have slowly seen the face of a spirited young man start to crack and darken, looking whithered and tired, I look at my love and her face is more brilliant than ever. Her smile is as broad as it was when we met, her eyes as loving, caring and devoted, and I wonder what it is that makes her stay so beautiful. It may be a cliche, but I really do think that angels come to Earth to guide us, help us find our way back from the abyss, and I believe she's one of them, whether she knows it or not. Perhaps she worked out a deal with the Big Man to get sent to me, but the deal was they had to wipe her memory of having a harp and wings. She is the most giving person I know, so I have no problem believing she would have said "yes" to leaving heaven if it meant she could help someone as lost as I was.

So there you have it. My many changes and my rock. As for that 20lbs, well, I guess some things may never change.

Sine Metu.

Stupid Rocky Balboa

You know, I understand that Rocky's all about getting the everloving snot kicked out of you, but getting back up over and over and over again until you win. What the hell was with the latest movie? I think someone dared Sly to do it for $5. What a waste of time, I mean, was there even supposed to be a lesson learned here? You're never too old, keep trying, or something? Who knows?

I guess I'm thinking about this recently because I feel a little like ol' Rock lately. I'm trying to get a business started, and I'm getting knocked left and right. It's an uphill battle since the business I'm starting isn't really a common one, and people tend to shy away from what they don't understand. A few have come around, and a few more are waiting in the wings, so there is light at the end of the tunnel. It's a long, long tunnel though.

So, I'm a little rough on Mr. Balboa, but there is one short speech the boxer gives his son during the flick that kind of stuck with me. His kid's whining about being in Rock's shadow, among other things, and Rocky won't have it. Although not the most eloquently written speech ever, he says:

"The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It is a very mean and nasty place It will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me or nobody is going to hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard you hit, it is about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much can you take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done!"

So Rock, ol' boy, I'm going to keep moving forward.