The true, wandering, improvised story of one man's quiet journey from unfit and unhealthy to something better. The chronically slothful author seeks to feed two birds with one seed, breaking out of his cycle of neither exercising nor publishing by s...
Back on Day 127, I had my best check-in yet. I was down to 170 pounds, nearly seventeen below my Day 53 high of 186.8, and I set new personal records in all four of my strength-and-endurance categories. Then my diet ended, my wife and I started our post-Tax-Season celebrations, and we spent two weeks on vacation in Curaçao. We had a fantastic time, and did lots of walking and swimming, but my official fitness regimen came to a halt. We ate lots of delicious local foods: goat stew (kabritu stoba), beef stew (karni stoba), conch (karko), iguana (yuana), and grilled chicken, pork chops, and ribs. And lots of carbs, since nearly everything comes with french fries or rice-and-beans. After we returned home, I was too busy for much in the way of exercise, and my wife's birthday week involved lots of eating and drinking with friends. I did squeeze in a game of racquetball, but it kicked my ass, leaving no doubt that my cardiovascular improvements had slipped.
I knew I would eventually find the time and willpower to get back into my Orbital Velocity rhythm, but I had skipped my April 30 check-in, and was filled with dread at the prospect of my May 15 check-in. Work and birthday festivities meant that the check-in didn't happen. And then I put it off again. And again.
Until today -- Day 161. My wife is away for the afternoon, at a clothes swap with girlfriends. I have some time on my own, and no good excuse to put off the check-in any longer. As much as I've been afraid to measure, record, and share the proof of my many self-indulgences, I knew I had to do it. I was disappointed in myself for going more than thirty days without a check-in, and I was determined not to let myself lose any more of my hard-earned momentum.
So I put on my exercise clothes. I did ten minutes of stretching and breathing and meditatively lying on my back with a cat on my chest. I moved the coffee table aside so I'd have enough space on the living room floor for sit-ups, where I tuck my toes under the sofa for stability. I started up the timer app on my phone, and I pushed myself into the process.
Much to my surprise, my numbers weren't so bad. I've put on six pounds in a little over a month, but my strength-and-endurance numbers were better than I expected. I managed to hit my pull-ups record, and I even set a new record for jumping-jacks.
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It's done. I'm proud of myself for sticking with my commitment. For the second time in two months, I returned from a long trip and had the will and presence of mind to get back into my fitness regimen, without too terribly long of a delay. After having put my discipline aside for a few weeks, so I could relax and have a great time, I was then able to get back into the swing of things, rather than let myself slide all the way back to square one.
Now it's time to cut down on treats, make time for more exercise, and lose all the weight I've put back on. I was excited to fit into clothes I hadn't been able to wear in a long time, and to feel no embarrassment about my body when wearing nothing but swim trunks. Time to get back down to 170.
