Goal weight: 195
Weight this morning: 234
When I walked out the gym this morning, the first thing I saw on my car was the 26.2 sticker on the back window.
I almost scraped it off with my key.
That was the sticker I got after running the Marine Corps Marathon on Oct. 31, 2009. Twenty-six point two miles. I didn’t feel worthy to have that on my car. Not after today.
The first exercise my group did today was push a folded white towel the length of a basketball court. And back. Then we did it again. My legs, which were already sore, gave out. My mind said push and they said, “bite me” back. But I did it.
Then we went and ran on the treadmill. Paul LaCoste personally got in my face and challenged me to work harder. I’m pissed about how poorly I did on the treadmill. I’m pissed about how poorly my physical condition has gotten. I’m pissed I’ve made bad choices. In the fourteen months since the marathon, I’ve became an obese, out-of-shape fat slob. If my health were my budget, my Cousin Dave would tell me to cut up my credit cards. I’ve been writing too many checks on my health’s account. Now those checks have started bouncing.
But I decided to keep the 26.2 sticker.
It’s a reminder that every morning when I come out of the gym tired and sore that I have it inside me to be fit again. That I can break through the barrier of when I’m tired and want to quit. That I can make a change. I did it at mile 20 on the bridge over the Potomac River when my legs started to cramp. I can do it now.
Paul threw out a statistic. The state of Mississippi spends $900 million paying to medicate the side effects of obesity. That’s $900 million that could go to schools, to the general budget, to making Mississippi a better place. To hell if I’m going to contribute to that statistic any more.
Today I didn’t do so hot. Tomorrow, I’m going to push even harder.