Appsolutely Vital.

Four years ago, I was roughly 330 lbs. I was living in a small, one-bedroom condo in Toronto, Ontario. It was nice. I had a loving, faithful wife. She was nice. I had a new compact, fuel efficient commuter car. It was nice. I had a mid-management job in a fancy office building where I managed a team of people. It was nice.

I was nice. Yet, I was also miserable. 

Ten months earlier I worked for a Florida-based company and in just 25 minutes, I could be on Clearwater Beach to share a bucket of fresh crabs and watch the sun set with some of the greatest friends I've ever made, by my side. That was nice. Yet, I was miserable.

I spent six and a half years traveling back and forth to Tampa, FL on business. I never golfed. I never went tanning. I didn't rollerblade, or bicycle, or even go for walks. I spent most of my time either working or at home in the air conditioning. The times I had a rental place with a pool, I enjoyed the solitude and privacy of my backyard. That was nice. I was miserable.

The simple fact is, I don't think I've ever been truly happy in my adult life. It's not that I don't like who I am. I'm very content. I'm unhappy with what I am.

Just over fifteen years ago I was a pack-a-day smoker. I drank soda by the half-gallon. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted. I was in relatively decent shape because I had a physical job. I literally walked miles a night, and got fairly lean but I would never claim I was "fit". Within a short year or two that changed. I earned a promotion, got a desk job, and never thought twice about a change in diet. Life was all about convenience foods. I left "the healthiest shape" of my life far behind and went on a spiraling decent.

I try to remind myself of that now: I didn't gain the weight over night, so I certainly won't lose it over night.

Had I told myself fifteen years ago that some day I would regret that lifestyle, and told myself that a healthy future meant green juice, jogging and a non-meat/non-dairy lifestyle, I'd have laughed myself into a straight-jacket. Ironically, the insanity part wasn't the idea of healthly lifestyle, it should have been the idea of ignoring my own health. Some where between 22 and 35 I lost myself in a world of high calorie, heavily processed, nutrient absent foods and it showed in every aspect of my world: physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. 

Watching Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead identified that for me when they introduced the character Phil Staples, the 429-lb truck driver. I'd never seen him before, but I knew him. I recognized the place he was living in, proverbially. There's not much lighting there.

See, when you watch a movie and there's a little fat kid in it, he's always the slow, chunky one eating the junk food and trying to figure out what all his friends are running from. Same for the overweight girl in the movies; she's never the one that can expect the limo to roll up with Richard Gere hanging out the sunroof, calling out for Lady Vivian. There's something about being fat that is universally recognized as lazy, sloth-like, undesirable, goofy and in some cases, even mentally slower than everyone else. Like a permanent life-state of being picked last for the baseball team. Constantly.

Apparently, you can even chalk your lack of career success up to your lack of physical health now too. As if having to look at your swollen belly in the mirror every time you get out of the shower isn't bad enough, you have to be discriminated against financially by your boss too.

The hard part is fixing it. You can't just go in and have it all removed. It's not like the crappy little apartment where you can just put in your notice and do the midnight move. It's not the lousy job with the jerk boss you can simply walk out on. It's not the junker jalopy you can park under a bridge in the old rundown part of the downtown area and set fire to it, then bribe two old homeless guys with a bottle of Old Crow whiskey to say someone matching your ex-wife's description was running away from the area. No, being fat and unhealthy is like none of those things.It's more like scaling Mount Everest in a tank-top, speedo and flip flops during the Off-season. You could try, but you'll be lucky if it doesn't kill you, or at least turn you back defeated without the proper preparation and training. To train and prepare you need the right tools and the right support.

Todd Lange tweeted to me today. That made me happy. He was asking me for my email, because apparently I get a bonus app from him for 10k101 because I've mentioned him in posts and my YouTube videos. I'm deeply grateful, but more importantly I'm happy. Not for the freebie (Love that though, Todd!), but because of what I can do now that I have never been able to do before. I'm going on my forth week of jogging training, and nothing says "Yes We Can" like completing a segment of the 5k101 program, that Todd developed.

Todd Lange saved a life. His app (and free podcasts) has helped me learn how to do the impossible. Four weeks from now, provided I am not delayed by illness or injury, I should be able to run five kilometers uninterrupted  That is something I've never been able to say, never mind actually do. That makes me happy.

In the present moment of my life I have a mediocre middle-management job. I have an aging car. I'm in the middle of a long, drawn out divorce. I'm not where I want to be, doing what I want to be, making what I want to be or being what I want to be, but, I'm happy; I'm happy because I now see what I can do when I put my mind to it, prepare and move towards a goal that's not about chasing a dream. 

In the coming years, I'll be running 5k and maybe even 10k races. I'll be enrolled in an MBA program. I'll be a homeowner again. I'll be self-aware. I'll be a better man.

I'll get there soon.

Finally, I am not running from something; I'm running towards something. And that is absolutely fantastic. But, I'm happy. And that is absolutely the most important thing in life.

With any luck, this life change to a healthy new beginning means I'll live longer to enjoy it too!

With appreciation,
FatGuy