Baby Steps

As of about 9PM last night, I was ready to abandon this blog. It had been such a long time since I had an urge to write anything that I didn’t see the point in marketing this site and longer. I even deleted the link from my facebook account.

Because of my style of writing, it takes me a long time to formulate what I want to say, and how I want to say it (I have already modified this particular sentence three times … four times … FIVE!). So long, in fact, that I typically decide that the juice just isn’t worth the squeeze and just keep my thoughts to myself. Well, Lisa has persuaded me to pick up the pen … er … keyboard again.

On December 13th, I finished my second marathon. I’m proud of my accomplishment, but if you had told me five years ago that I would run a marathon, I would have laughed in your face. Marathoners were superhuman, and I was fat.

I still remember stepping on the scale at a 24-hour Fitness in Houston and pushing the silver arrow all the way over to 38 while the black arrow pointed to 200. I couldn’t believe that I weighed 238 pounds, but I was still able to find ways to not hold myself accountable for my size. Let me recall a few:

• People tell me that I don’t LOOK that heavy.
• People in my family are overweight. It’s probably hereditary and there’s nothing that I can do about it.
• I eat pretty healthy. I usually order chicken when I eat out.

I was kidding myself and two things were my biggest catalyst for change:

1. I was so ashamed by the way that I looked that I would avoid catching my reflection in a mirror or window. If I was walking up to a glass door, I would intentionally direct my focus somewhere that I had no chance of seeing what I looked like.
2. I was SICK of being uncomfortable all the time.

The second catalyst produced the event that was my turning point. I was sitting at a red light at the intersection 249 and Gessner when I became aware that my belt was cutting into my stomach and it hurt. I was so fat that I hurt. That was the moment that I decided that I needed to make some changes.

Do you remember the movie What About Bob where Bill Murray is obsessive-compulsive and he’s seeking treatment from a psychiatrist played by Richard Dreyfuss? Well, Richard Dreyfuss’ character gives good advice. Baby steps.

I started going to the gym and watching what I ate … and I thought about it. What do I do that causes me to gain weight? Well … I don’t exercise enough and I eat too much.

I kept going to the gym and began to understand proper portion sizes. You mean … I don’t have to eat everything on my plate? Simple concept to understand. Not so simple to put into practice.

I don’t recall how long I had been taking my baby steps before the next catalytic event, but spectating at the Houston Marathon also had a significant impact on me.

Lisa’s dad, Joe, ran in his first marathon while we lived in Houston. I was excited to cheer him on and we were able to see him at four or five different locations throughout the race, but my favorite part of that day was sitting at the finish line and watching the racers cross the line.

Some sprinted across. Some limped. Some shouted out in excitement. Some grimaced in pain. Some were bloody. All were proud of themselves. All of them were, and I was proud for them. I thought to myself uncertainly, “Maybe some day I could run a half marathon”.

So I started training. Baby steps.

• I ran a 10k in February of 2007.
• Then I competed in a sprint distance triathlon in May of 2007.
• Then my first half marathon in December of 2007.
• Then an Olympic distance triathlon in June of 2008.
• Then my first marathon in December of 2008.
• Then another sprint triathlon in August of 2009.
• Then my second marathon in December of 2009.

I started small, but kept setting goals that were more and more ambitious. I took baby steps. There is no diet, no shortcut, no magic pill that will produce sustainable results that you will be proud of.

I ran a marathon and I’m not extraordinary for having done so. I simply took enough baby steps to achieve what I once thought was impossible. You can, too.