Friday, February 19, 2010

Taking The Leap

Today, I did something that I haven't done in about ten years.

I joined Weight Watchers. For the third time in my life. They say third time's a charm, right?

First time I did it, I lost about thirty pounds. I was 13.

Next time I did it, I was in high school and was too ashamed to admit to myself I was doing it again. I lost five pounds, and stopped going.

This time, I'm hoping things are going to be different. It's a new decade, and my hopes are that this decade aren't as tumultuous weight-wise as the last one. Let's recap the past ten years, shall we?

In 2000, I was in high school. While I was overweight, I was never fat and was still a nationally-ranked field hockey player. I was being recruited by numerous Division 1 schools, as well as the US Military Academy. I probably fluctuated between 160 and 165 all through high school.

In 2003, I entered the US Military Academy and began the hardest, longest, most strenuous, and healthiest six months of my life. I dropped about 25 pounds during that time, weighing in at my lowest ever of 143. I had (probably) around 20% body fat, and muscles galore. I almost had a six-pack, for crying out loud, and could do 3 sets of 6 unassisted pull-ups.

Then they kicked me out, because I'm a big old homo. Depression set in, and I gained almost sixty pounds over the next year and a half. I was going to college, binge drinking every weekend, not working out or taking care of myself, and not really playing any sports.

In 2005 I found out that my college was getting a field hockey team, and the coach would be someone who had recruited me during my high school days. Over the next year, I whipped myself into shape and dropped down to 170. I was also able to run a sub-8 mile, and beat half my team at the majority of the speed and endurance drills we did (as a goalie, that was not expected or required).

In 2007 I started training for, and ran, my first marathon. I also ran a half-marathon that year. I ran my second half-marathon, and my first triathlon, in 2008. I was probably hovering between 165 and 175 those years.

I moved to New York City and discovered the beauty of take-out. I've been living on my own for three years, and I still haven't learned to cook. I've been fighting injuries, and I just had shoulder surgery which has kept me from working out for the past 2+ months. I've also entered into a relationship with an amazing woman, and with that came the requisite relationship weight-gain.

Since my last serious foray into racing, when I was fluctuating between 165 and 175, I've put on some serious weight. I weighed in at Weight Watchers this morning, and it broke my heart to see how much I've let my body deteriorate over the past two years.

The final number? I weighed in at 199.2.

I've never weighed this much before in my life. And I will never weigh this much again. I am tired of my seesawing weight. I'm tired of having clothes in my closet that don't fit me anymore (for bad reasons. I'd love to have clothes in my closet that are too big for me!). I am, in short, disgusted with myself.

I have a lot of issues with food. Right now, I have peanut butter bars in the drawer of my desk that I bought at the meeting this morning. I can't concentrate on ANYTHING because all I want are those damn bars. If there is food in the vicinity, I will eat it even if I don't want it. That's one of the reasons I do take-out so much - it gives me a certain amount of food, normally with no leftovers. If I have food in the house, I WILL eat it. Even if I'm not hungry. Even if I don't necessarily like it. Even if I have to sneak it.

I have an obsession with food. I've always had an obsession with food. I need to END this obsession with food. It won't be easy, and it won't happen overnight. But it WILL happen. It HAS to happen.

And I WILL do it this time.

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