Quote:
|
Originally Posted by Subby
Incredible read: The Best Fat Loss Article on the Motherfuckin’ Internet
|
That's a heck of a link there. I'm definitely going to use the article here as I, at least to the small degree that one person can, attempt to drag this thread out of the land of necro for my personal use -- and perhaps others will rejoin, perhaps not. I've got the usual reasons for wanting to do so, not the last among them being adding to my own motivation to keep on. This 'reset' post will be pretty long -- I'll get to the results in another post. Speaking of which(all quotes that don't indicate otherwhise are from that link):
Quote:
|
Originally Posted by Physiqonomics
the more you look for motivation, the less motivated you become, because you don't do anything. Action begets motivation
|
Very much so.
Personal History
Many moons ago, in the mid-90s, I was your average HS athlete; in pretty good shape but I definitely could have been in better, training was inconsistent, etc. At that point I was at 210-215 lbs. on my 6-4, wide-bodied frame. I wish the doctors were right: based on the size of my feet(size 14 in 8th grade) they expected me to be about 6-9. Then I probably could have made a living playing basketball in Europe ... but I might not have taken it seriously enough for that to happen anyway. In any case, college was a dark time in my life personally, and I turned the 'freshman 15' into 25. From that point(240 at age 19), I added 5-10 lbs. annually for my 20s, and I was over 300 lbs. and into my 30s before I started fighting back with any serious, sustained effort. I've lost up to 50ish pounds a few times since, always gaining it back eventually. For most of my 30s I vacillated in the 300-330 range.
A Strange Injury
About three years ago now, I noticed one evening that my right ankle was aching. I figured it would be fine in the morning -- but it was worse. Then I thought it was arthritis, which I'd had an issue with in my left hip a few months earlier, so I tried to treat it the same. Didn't really help much, and I was limping around everywhere. After extended shifts at work I would barely be able to get from the car to the house. There were times I literally couldn't put any weight on it at all. In one of life's rather ironic financial reverses, I had just dropped down to one job after working two(about 65 hrs. or so a week) to get out of debt and build up a solid emergency fund. That fund quickly went hasta la bye-bye due to the medical bills, which eventually included a bone scan, umpteen XRays, and an MRI.
In June 2015 I had surgery that I couldn't afford and still haven't paid off the costs for to remove a piece of bone that broke off the back of my ankle(talus) and re-attach the tendon. Apparently I sprained my ankle, which I've done so very many times, at some point and barely noticed. I'd worked on it injured like that for about a year, which all the medical professionals said was basically insane(they're not wrong). The excellent doctor who did the surgery said the piece of bone I had flopping around in the back of my ankle was roughly the size of a walnut, the largest one he's ever removed in that kind of injury. I've always been the kind of guy that, if I injure myself, I don't do it halfway. I actually landed on volleyball when I was younger for my most severe sprain(same ankle), and the thing blew up like a freaking basketball. Would have literally been better off breaking it.
After this I ended up working more than I should have, various financial issues and trouble getting around complicated recovery and also led to a less active lifestyle and also more difficulty in eating properly. Not a real good recipe for the battle with weight. Eventually I quit my job of 15 years in March 2016 and started working closer to home, partly because I just couldn't physically handle the workload anymore though there were other factors.
A Unusual Confluence of Events
At that point, I knew I was at a new 'high' weight-wise, but I didn't realize exactly how bad it was due to a faulty scale that was registering significantly low. I have come to realize, via estimation, that as of summer a year ago I had reached an absolutely disgusting 390 lbs. or so. When you tend towards inertia, can't move around much, and have extended periods where you depend on others for transportation, it's a heck of a lot easier to eat what is convenient rather than what is healthy. That's not an excuse, it just became easier to do so. And oh my goodness the crap that I would eat, totally overwhelming the healthy things. The triple threat of ice cream, soda(multiple 12-packs a week plus a ridiculous amount more at work) and the WMI(Weapon of Mass Increase) known as the Baconator were a regular part of my intake for far too long.
Which brings us up to this last June, a year later. The one really good thing that had happened is having a job with regular, consistent hours. That brought with it some therapeutic effects to my bad ankle, which in turn brought slowly improving personal habits. I'd lost almost 20 pounds over the course of a year, a relative drop in the bucket but not nothing, and was now in the low 370s. A few things happened in a short period of time; a brother got married(another to come in a month), I turned 40 years old, I finally managed to get a reliable vehicle for the first time in several months after my trusty Malibu died over the winter, and I started to get the first small signs of coronary issues. And there was more. A guy I used to work with went under the knife for gastric bypass. He was almost a decade older than me, and significantly bigger(initially 450 when the process started for him), with more substantial general health issues, esp. with his feet.
All of this lit a rather massive fire under my arse to not be doing that myself by the time I was 50 -- if I was even still around for it. I'd like to live a few more decades but it sure isn't going to happen with my lifestyle as it is/was. I know from research I've done in the past that past 40, every year brings a major escalating risk of heart attacks and like for men who are obese. I was either going to act now, or accept likely becoming a statistic sooner rather than later. I should be in worse shape than I am -- my family tends towards longevity and there's more hypoglycemia in our tree than diabetes. I don't have it, though I'm like the poster child candidate for Type 2 risk. Not a guarantee that I won't get it or whatever, but I don't have any other known notable disorder issues like those others have mentioned. So I could be a lot worse off.