But I'll get you all caught up on this soon, but in the meantime, I wanted to post the first Before and After pics from the journey (the befores are on the left side). You've gotta look REAL, REAL CLOSE and you can see some subtle differences.
Friday, August 5, 2011
08.05.11 :: So Much To Tell...
Oh. My. Lanta! I can't believe it's been a whole week since we spoke. There's SO MUCH going on. So much with my journey, my business, my work at the church... It's crazy. This week's been bananas! B-A-N-A-N-A-S!!
But I'll get you all caught up on this soon, but in the meantime, I wanted to post the first Before and After pics from the journey (the befores are on the left side). You've gotta look REAL, REAL CLOSE and you can see some subtle differences.
But I'll get you all caught up on this soon, but in the meantime, I wanted to post the first Before and After pics from the journey (the befores are on the left side). You've gotta look REAL, REAL CLOSE and you can see some subtle differences.
Friday, July 29, 2011
07.29.11 :: Being fit is more than a number...
In a recent post, I mentioned how I'm motivated by progress and promise. If it feels like I'm "getting somewhere," it's easier for me to put my weight behind the effort (pun intended). But I'm learning that not all progress is necessarily measurable.
The scale is telling me that weight is coming off, but at a snail's pace. And there's a (pretty big) part of me that wishes it were happening faster. But I'm already doing that thing where I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think, "Hey... that's new." Or I'll look down at my arms and wonder who's they are. Or Kate will tell me she can "see it in my face." Or my blood sugar will drop below 100 for the first time ever. Or I'll have to make yet another hole in my belt.
Not to mention my confidence and self-esteem. I already feel like I can do things that I couldn't just a few weeks ago (starting with the Packers 5K tomorrow). I feel energized and capable.
I'm learning to feed off of those feelings for my motivation rather than numbers I used to rely on. It's kind of addicting really. The charge I get out of "look what I did" is beginning to equal that I got from "look what I lost." And I like it. I like it a lot!
The scale is telling me that weight is coming off, but at a snail's pace. And there's a (pretty big) part of me that wishes it were happening faster. But I'm already doing that thing where I'll catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and think, "Hey... that's new." Or I'll look down at my arms and wonder who's they are. Or Kate will tell me she can "see it in my face." Or my blood sugar will drop below 100 for the first time ever. Or I'll have to make yet another hole in my belt.
Not to mention my confidence and self-esteem. I already feel like I can do things that I couldn't just a few weeks ago (starting with the Packers 5K tomorrow). I feel energized and capable.
I'm learning to feed off of those feelings for my motivation rather than numbers I used to rely on. It's kind of addicting really. The charge I get out of "look what I did" is beginning to equal that I got from "look what I lost." And I like it. I like it a lot!
Monday, July 25, 2011
07.25.11 :: I'm a Fair-Weather Fan of me...
I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love my Green Bay Packers. My all-time favorite team, my all-time favorite sport. The idea of switching allegiances is repulsive to me. So, good or bad, win or lose... They're MY team. I LOVE 'em!
On the other hand, are the Milwaukee Brewers. I really, really like the Brewers. I hardly ever miss a game (or at least part of it). I could probably give you the line up and batting order off the top of my head. I enjoy following them.
But only because they're in a battle for first place in the National League Central.
I suspect that if they were standings bottom-dwellers (as they have been for so many years), I probably would've stopped watching/listening/following sometime around Memorial Day. In short, if there's no chance for them to make the play-offs, I can find better ways to spend Summer evenings.
If they're not winning, I'm not following. I'm a fair-weather fan.
And, as it turns out, I'm a fair-weather fan of me, too.
This journey of mine got off to a fast start. I sold out for the fitness regimes. Made connections with rockstars in that area (Kat V. and Zac & Fawn W.). Plunged head-long into better eating and meal-journaling on MyFitnessPal.com. And so I saw quick, big drops in my weight and in my belt notches.
I was proud of the immediate progress. I shared that success with others and they answered with shouts of acclamation and support. Folks were calling me an inspiration. I practically doubled my efforts. Engaged more deeply. I got addicted to the success and the resulting support. It was a very heady experience.
"60lb goal? Bah. 100lbs? Now we're talking!! That's, like, 10 weeks from now at the rate I'm on. I'll be skinny by Halloween. Maybe I'll go trick-or-treating as a Chippendale's dancer!!"
Then came week two.
Despite the efforts (and against the direction of TeamWoodfin), I weighed-in frequently only to find the progress had ground to a complete stop. In fact, yesterday I learned that I was moving backwards weight-wise.
"Backwards?! Are you f-ing kidding me?!? Backwards? This is a lot of work to move backwards. A LOT of work! Hell... I can eat sausage biscuits and tubs of movie popcorn to move backwards. I certainly don't need to count every gram of fat and every calorie I put in my pie-hole to get THOSE results."
Yesterday morning at this time I was ready to give up. "Screw it," I thought. "I'm just meant to NEVER drop below 300 pounds. I'm meant to be fat forever."
And then that defeated (defeatist) attitude permeated my whole outlook on everything in my life. Yesterday we had a booth at The Wedding Show: Summer Edition at Shopko Hall. I didn't even want to do it anymore. Our booth looked sucky. My work wouldn't compare to others. No one would want to stop and talk to the creepy, fat photographer. I was broken... again.
But like Abe's uneaten Sausage and Cheese Biscuit, I stopped and refused to swallow that idea. I spit it out. (By the way, I didn't get that far with the SCB... I just threw that away.) To quit would be an insult to everyone. It'd be an insult to the people who've already invested their time into this journey of mine by teaching me and training me into a new lifestyle. It would be an insult to the people who've taken the time to say, "Way to go! - I'm rooting for you!!" It would be an insult to those people who've said that my efforts and bravery and transparency have been an inspiration for them to make changes in their own lives; to start on their own journeys. It would be an insult to Kate, who's been so super supportive. And, not least of all, it would be an insult to me. The today me and the tomorrow me. I owe myself more than quitting. I have to be my own biggest fan. The president of my own fan club.
So even when I'm behind on the scoreboard, even when I'm at the bottom of the standings, even when it looks like I've got absolutely no chance to succeed, I'm STILL gonna be a fan of me. Fair weather or not.
You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have. ~ Unkown
On the other hand, are the Milwaukee Brewers. I really, really like the Brewers. I hardly ever miss a game (or at least part of it). I could probably give you the line up and batting order off the top of my head. I enjoy following them.
But only because they're in a battle for first place in the National League Central.
I suspect that if they were standings bottom-dwellers (as they have been for so many years), I probably would've stopped watching/listening/following sometime around Memorial Day. In short, if there's no chance for them to make the play-offs, I can find better ways to spend Summer evenings.
If they're not winning, I'm not following. I'm a fair-weather fan.
And, as it turns out, I'm a fair-weather fan of me, too.
This journey of mine got off to a fast start. I sold out for the fitness regimes. Made connections with rockstars in that area (Kat V. and Zac & Fawn W.). Plunged head-long into better eating and meal-journaling on MyFitnessPal.com. And so I saw quick, big drops in my weight and in my belt notches.
I was proud of the immediate progress. I shared that success with others and they answered with shouts of acclamation and support. Folks were calling me an inspiration. I practically doubled my efforts. Engaged more deeply. I got addicted to the success and the resulting support. It was a very heady experience.
"60lb goal? Bah. 100lbs? Now we're talking!! That's, like, 10 weeks from now at the rate I'm on. I'll be skinny by Halloween. Maybe I'll go trick-or-treating as a Chippendale's dancer!!"
Then came week two.
Despite the efforts (and against the direction of TeamWoodfin), I weighed-in frequently only to find the progress had ground to a complete stop. In fact, yesterday I learned that I was moving backwards weight-wise.
"Backwards?! Are you f-ing kidding me?!? Backwards? This is a lot of work to move backwards. A LOT of work! Hell... I can eat sausage biscuits and tubs of movie popcorn to move backwards. I certainly don't need to count every gram of fat and every calorie I put in my pie-hole to get THOSE results."
Yesterday morning at this time I was ready to give up. "Screw it," I thought. "I'm just meant to NEVER drop below 300 pounds. I'm meant to be fat forever."
And then that defeated (defeatist) attitude permeated my whole outlook on everything in my life. Yesterday we had a booth at The Wedding Show: Summer Edition at Shopko Hall. I didn't even want to do it anymore. Our booth looked sucky. My work wouldn't compare to others. No one would want to stop and talk to the creepy, fat photographer. I was broken... again.
But like Abe's uneaten Sausage and Cheese Biscuit, I stopped and refused to swallow that idea. I spit it out. (By the way, I didn't get that far with the SCB... I just threw that away.) To quit would be an insult to everyone. It'd be an insult to the people who've already invested their time into this journey of mine by teaching me and training me into a new lifestyle. It would be an insult to the people who've taken the time to say, "Way to go! - I'm rooting for you!!" It would be an insult to those people who've said that my efforts and bravery and transparency have been an inspiration for them to make changes in their own lives; to start on their own journeys. It would be an insult to Kate, who's been so super supportive. And, not least of all, it would be an insult to me. The today me and the tomorrow me. I owe myself more than quitting. I have to be my own biggest fan. The president of my own fan club.
So even when I'm behind on the scoreboard, even when I'm at the bottom of the standings, even when it looks like I've got absolutely no chance to succeed, I'm STILL gonna be a fan of me. Fair weather or not.
You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have. ~ Unkown
Thursday, July 21, 2011
07.19.11 :: It's my party and I'll cry if I want to...
I'm at my desk. Crying. (You can stop reading if you don't want to read a woe-is-me tale.)
It's been kind of a crap morning to begin with. I ran late out of the house. Skipped breakfast. I defied TeamWoodfin, and stopped to weigh myself only to find I found one pound I thought I'd lost. Crap. Morning.
But, we press on... right?
Well, I was at the office and talking with some co-workers in the common area. A church volunteer comes round the corner and shouts, "Hey!" To which we all look up, each wondering to whom is she hey-ing. There were lots of conversations going on, so there was a definite din in the room. And rather than call me out by name, she gestures to her waistline. Like Aaron Rodgers. I can only imagine my face. What? I'm a champion? What is this woman saying with her pantomime? It turns out, that's the international symbol or sign language for, "Hey, fat guy!" Who knew?
Well I went over to her, answered her questions cheerfully and retreated to my office. There I reflected on what had just happened and start blubbering like a nancy. Spare tire gesture? Really... who does that? Who calls out people by their physical characteristics? If I had a big nose, would she have gestured such? Or if I were missing a leg, would she have leaned and fallen over to get my attention?
It's as though I didn't have a name (Scott), a title (Communications Director) or a social place (buddy). All I was to her at that moment was the fatest guy in the room. To her, I wasn't defined by my position or my family or my gifts or my passions. I was defined by my weight. That was humiliating and degrading.
I'll get over it. I've already started to. But as I write this I want to encourage all of you about a couple of things:
To the non-fat people: Do you have a physical flaw? Knobby knees, big ears, eyes too wide apart, that weird second toe that's longer than the big toe? Can you imagine if someone defined you by that flaw? Like, picked the one thing about you that you hate and called everyone's attention to it. "Hey, guy who can't grow a proper beard where the mustache connects to the goatee!" Or, "Yoohoo, lady who can't wear lo-rise jeans because your butt's too high up your back!" Can you imagine? You'd be mortified.
Please be sensitive to that idea around overweight people. Their weight doesn't define who they are any more than your hair color or your knobby knees define who you are. Give 'em a break.
To the overweight people: Never mind the bollocks, there's more to you than your waistline. No matter where you are in your journey (and whether you've even started one), take the time to identify the things about you that you're proud of. The kinds of things you admire in other people. If you're like me, it may take time. Sometimes it's buried under years of ridicule, self-loathing and humiliation (crying again). Like a cupcake candle at the back of a deep cave. But once you reach it you'll realize how bright that candle is. It doesn't take much light to create hope (and banish fear) in complete darkness. Then, guard that cupcake candle fiercely and jealously. Don't let anyone or anything blow it out. And they're gonna try, intentionally or not. But it's yours to protect and it may just be your saving grace. I know it is mine.
It's been kind of a crap morning to begin with. I ran late out of the house. Skipped breakfast. I defied TeamWoodfin, and stopped to weigh myself only to find I found one pound I thought I'd lost. Crap. Morning.
But, we press on... right?
Well, I was at the office and talking with some co-workers in the common area. A church volunteer comes round the corner and shouts, "Hey!" To which we all look up, each wondering to whom is she hey-ing. There were lots of conversations going on, so there was a definite din in the room. And rather than call me out by name, she gestures to her waistline. Like Aaron Rodgers. I can only imagine my face. What? I'm a champion? What is this woman saying with her pantomime? It turns out, that's the international symbol or sign language for, "Hey, fat guy!" Who knew?
Well I went over to her, answered her questions cheerfully and retreated to my office. There I reflected on what had just happened and start blubbering like a nancy. Spare tire gesture? Really... who does that? Who calls out people by their physical characteristics? If I had a big nose, would she have gestured such? Or if I were missing a leg, would she have leaned and fallen over to get my attention?
It's as though I didn't have a name (Scott), a title (Communications Director) or a social place (buddy). All I was to her at that moment was the fatest guy in the room. To her, I wasn't defined by my position or my family or my gifts or my passions. I was defined by my weight. That was humiliating and degrading.
I'll get over it. I've already started to. But as I write this I want to encourage all of you about a couple of things:
To the non-fat people: Do you have a physical flaw? Knobby knees, big ears, eyes too wide apart, that weird second toe that's longer than the big toe? Can you imagine if someone defined you by that flaw? Like, picked the one thing about you that you hate and called everyone's attention to it. "Hey, guy who can't grow a proper beard where the mustache connects to the goatee!" Or, "Yoohoo, lady who can't wear lo-rise jeans because your butt's too high up your back!" Can you imagine? You'd be mortified.
Please be sensitive to that idea around overweight people. Their weight doesn't define who they are any more than your hair color or your knobby knees define who you are. Give 'em a break.
To the overweight people: Never mind the bollocks, there's more to you than your waistline. No matter where you are in your journey (and whether you've even started one), take the time to identify the things about you that you're proud of. The kinds of things you admire in other people. If you're like me, it may take time. Sometimes it's buried under years of ridicule, self-loathing and humiliation (crying again). Like a cupcake candle at the back of a deep cave. But once you reach it you'll realize how bright that candle is. It doesn't take much light to create hope (and banish fear) in complete darkness. Then, guard that cupcake candle fiercely and jealously. Don't let anyone or anything blow it out. And they're gonna try, intentionally or not. But it's yours to protect and it may just be your saving grace. I know it is mine.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
07.19.11 :: Ain't No Mountain...
My thoughts as I was driving to work this morning. (Sorry for the bad video/audio. Stupid HTC phone - ♬ Wish I had an Apple iPhone ♬)
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