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With a nod to a line given to me from a recent television show that I enjoy, I’m declaring a jihad on my weight.
I’ve struggled with my weight for the past 15 years. I was a skinny person until I hit 28. At that point, something happened and I gained about 60 pounds. At my peak, some of my friends referred to me as fat. Eek.
I started running about seven years ago. I lost about 20 of the pounds. Some them went into muscle, some of them went away. But a bunch of them hung around – mostly my belly and my ass.
In 2003, when I was training for the Chicago marathon, I dropped another 30 pounds. None of my clothes fit; that was very satisfying. I ran my fastest marathon by a wide margin. I’m sure my cholesterol was a lot lower. No one called me fat anymore.
Five years later, I feel semi-fat again. I’m still running marathons, but those 30 pounds are back. I’m 20 pounds off my peak, but no where near where I want to be.
Enough. Starting today the weight comes off. If you are having a meal with me, help me help myself. Send the bread back. Ask me if I’m sure I want another drink (one is plenty). Remind me that I only have to eat half my food. Notice all the vegetables that I’m eating. Pat me on the head when I skip dessert.
Weight – you are going away.