Left foot, right foot, break foot, right foot

I wrote a long post in mid 2014. I covered a few things in many words. One being about events in my life that reshaped the way I think. Particularly with respect to lifestyles and changing them. To recap, I was too fat in January 2014 to fit into most rides at Universal Studios. The visual metaphor couldn’t be clearer. The way I was living was keeping me from enjoying my life. And I knew who was to blame.

Me. No one else. No external sources. So I needed to start changing me.

“No… uh… wait. It’s ok. I… oomf… I really want to ride on Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey. What if.. ow… what if I lie on my back, push my gut this way…”

I stopped drinking. I was a frequent beer drinker for the previous 7-8 years. I’d often buy a 6 pack after a bad day and drink at home. Sometimes I finished all 6 that night. One BBQ pool party I drank 18 Amberbock and Sam Adams. I wasn’t addicted but I wanted to prove to myself I could be better for me and change who I was. Be someone else. Me, but better. The mental haze lifted after two weeks of not drinking. Two months in, I started working out with the help of a friend. I was down 40 lbs six months later and I was feeling amazing.

But there’s a thing about lifestyle changes people sometimes forget. Myself included. These changes are difficult to implement. They’re often beset by constant setbacks. It’s rarely, and I’d argue “never”, a straight road with clear weather or pleasant travelers.

Everyone suffers setbacks. Everyone.

Six months into vigorous strength training, I no longer trained with my gym partner. While not at all the right woman for me, she stirred in me a desire to love and be loved that I hadn’t felt in years. She was with someone else and she didn’t feel the same way. While she wanted to remain friends, I couldn’t put myself through the daily reminder of wanting and unavailability. So I did the only healthy thing I felt comfortable with and kept my distance. She understood.

I continued to work out on my own, but getting used to it took some time. I was used to her changing up the workout plan regularly. But now, I used the same workout plan for close to 9 months. Researching workout schedules and adjusting was never something I did well or cared to do. Give me a plan and I’ll follow it happily. The only adjusting I’ll do on my own is improvement. More weights when I could. More reps or running longer when I should. Pushing the envelope of my ability like water erodes the shore. Slowly and surely.

And that kind of mentality bled into how I ran and trained for a half marathon, but not until after I hit a slump. But the most wonderful slump imaginable.

After a quiet while, I met a woman. A woman I was beat into believing couldn’t exist by a soulless city like Miami. She was fun, bright and smart. Built of love and broken and repaired in all the places that made her humble and powerful. She made me feel like my idea of love was possible: fulfilling conversations into our waning years. I saw that whenever I looked at her. I still do.

And she marked that paradoxical wonderful slump.

I’m a man of habit. I happily take on change, but I feel I take to change slower that most. When I first stopped drinking, I changed nothing else but not drinking for two months. Then I thought to maintain that and add one more lifestyle change. Working out. And that would become my game plan. Establish one habit. Add another. Repeat. Brick upon brick upon brick.

I had been alone so long that loving her as well and wholly as I wanted to and as she deserved was a Mt. Everest of lifestyle changes for me. It had absolutely nothing to do with her, though. She’s the easiest woman to love. So open and understanding. But the weight of changing habit was fatiguing. No matter how badly I wanted the change. She was cognizant of that and was saintly patient. She loved me just as wholly as I set out to love her. I took to climbing that mountain in me, and she climbed beside me the entire way. Sometimes hoisting me on her back.

“Ok, I’ve got my mountain skivvies and climbing stick and cape. Give me your worst, world’s tallest mountain!”

So my fitness took a back seat through that internal climb. But I maintained as well I could and only gained 10 lbs in that almost year. I trained for my half marathon for the last few months of it and put aside weight training. I didn’t want to needlessly injure myself after stuffing so much money into RunDisney’s pockets.  

Last week, after my race, I ran 3.1 miles on Tuesday and Thursday. I’ll continue doing so.

This week, I started weight training again. My arms are spaghetti. My chest and back, ground beef. (Is it lunch yet? What do I work out to make pasta sauce? Wait… I don’t think I want to know.) I woke up in the middle of last night because of the soreness. But I know it’s just because I’m restarting. The road swerved and that’s fine. Sometimes the scenic spots sit at the bend. I have a way to go, but I’ve lost those extra 10 lbs. and then some. I’m at the lightest I’ve been in years.

I’m learning that lifestyle changes aren’t about being perfect and hitting every benchmark. And that path is long. Life long. Changing is imperfect, messy and demands your constant attention. Ignore it and life will decide your path to erosion. Pay attention and accept there will be punches to roll with.

Just keep going. And punch back.