Here is a question I have not been able to answer. I have successfully lost significant amounts of fat on many occasions. Every time I have done so, the benefits have been immeasurable: I felt happier, healthier, stronger, more confident, and so forth. On every occasion I have said to myself, "life is so much better this way, I will never go back to being fat again." And yet, every single time, I went back again. In fact, only four months ago, I hit an all-time high -- 238 pounds with 38% bodyfat. Because being fit feels so much better than being fat, I do not know why I keep returning to fatland. But I've done it every time.
In high school, I was a 135 pound weakling. Although I was skinny, I was not in great shape. I tried to do a 5K fun run in eighth grade and had to walk most of the way. I tried to go as fast as I could, but still it took me about 38 minutes. I was sore for a week. I began lifting weights in 9th grade and became able to bench press 140 pounds -- a little more than my body weight. I felt pretty good about that. Even better, I beat the school record for dips with something like 47. Not bad, considering the fact that in seventh grade I could not do even one dip.
The problem is, I severely neglected my lower body. I hated doing squats or any other leg exercises, including running. So my legs never got very strong. I tried running a few times, but half-way around the block I would get so winded I would feel sick. Walking seemed like a waste of time, so I never considered a walk/jog/run program. Besides, being a skinny kid, I was only interested in getting strong -- I didn't have to worry about getting fat.
A year out of high school, I was surprised to see that I weighed 150. I was still pretty skinny for a guy just under six feet. One day, at age 20, I looked in the mirror and realized I was beginning to look fat. I got on the scale and was surprised to see that I weighed 185. I decided it was time to try that dieting thing that the women-folk always talk about. I didn't know anything about dieting, but I did know that I needed to start exercising and eating less. To make a long story short, I ate less, exercised more, and in five or six months I was down to 165. I still had a little roll of fat around my mid-section, but I felt a lot better.
When I got married a year-and-a-half later I weighed around 170-175. My wife, about 130. That's when the real battle of the bulge began -- for both of us. While I certainly noticed the swelling, and hated myself for it, I never realized how bad it was getting until I hit about 220. At that point I began taking a lot of P.E. classes in college: basketball, weight-lifting, karate, etc. I also took a health and nutrition class. I learned a lot about nutrition and fitness, and by the time I began grad school I was down to 200.
During the first year of grad school, I got serious about fitness like never before. I was in the weight room at 5:30 every morning -- six days a week. I gained a lot of muscle that year. My bench press went from 160 to 225. I was able to do well over twenty dips for the first time since high school. Sadly, I again neglected my legs -- though not as much as in years past. I did do leg extensions and leg curls, but no squats or anything intense. I rode the exercise bike several times per week. I played basketball about four hours per week. By the end of the year, my weight was down to about 180 and my bodyfat was at 17% -- down from about 38% the previous year. At that time, I couldn't imagine not going to the gym every day. Feeling the blood pumping through my swelled-up muscles after a good workout every morning was priceless. I had never exercised this much or this regularly before. I was addicted to working out and was never going to quit.
Unfortunately, I had to leave school for the summer for an internship and I did not have access to a gym. What's worse, I spent four hours driving to and from work every day so I was so exhausted when I got home, I did nothing but eat, sleep and work. I couldn't wait for the summer to end so I could get back to school and back into the gym.
When I returned to school in the fall, something was wrong. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, I had lost the motivation to get up and go to the gym in the mornings. I tried a few times, but never could get much of a workout. I desparately wanted to feel the way I had the year before, but the magic was gone. And I could not get it back. By the end of the year I had managed to get to the gym no more than a handful of times. By the end of grad school, I was pushing 230.
That winter I lost 15 pounds just by cutting my eating, counting calories. But I just didn't have much motivation, and I didn't do any exercise. By May I was back up to 225.
That's when I began to fight the biggest, baddest, battle yet.
To be continued . . .
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