When that calendar flips over from December to January, it’s a good time for a little self-assessment and to decide if you want to stay on the current path or take an alternate route. At the very end of 2014 I made a commitment to the former by marrying the woman I love and ensuring we’ll be together until one of us dies (it’ll be me, dudes always go first [insert joke here]) so I have that going for me, which is good. However, I also have to make a commitment to the latter as well because I’ve spent the last three months or so going off the fitness rails, and it shows.
For the first half of last year (which beats most resolutions by at least five months, go me!) I was doing well and then something happened: I stopped enjoying my runs. For some reason they were no longer fun. I kept plugging away at it for a few months after that realization but it was forced, and if you’re forcing yourself to do something eventually you’ll stop doing it. So, I took a break from running, but unfortunately I also took a break from eating well at the same time. I got fat again, but I also timed my fatness perfectly. I knew I’d hit rock-bottom around the end of the year and I did. I knew I could find my motivation again at the start of the year and I have.
In keeping with the confessions, right now when my new wife touches my stomach I shrink away a bit. When she takes a picture of me I suck in my gut. That’s embarrassing. She loves me as I am and I can’t express how much I appreciate that, but I also need to love myself and right now I’m feeling kinda blob-ish.
I’ve occasionally battled with depression and sometimes I’ve let it overwhelm me. I’m beyond being overwhelmed by it now and I know how to deal with it, and while medications help for me there’s nothing better than the natural medication of exercise and eating better. With that in mind, as cliché’ as it sounds I loaded up the iPod (amazing how that sentence is now old school, almost like I was listening to a mixtape or an 8-track) with the Rocky mix, and there was one song that I repeated until my run was done. You guessed it: Frank Stallone. No, wait, it was this guy:
Robert says there’s no easy way out, but he’s dead wrong. There are a thousand easy ways out, which is at least 20 times more ways than there are to leave your lover. There’s no easy way in. In to getting my ass back in shape, in to where I don’t shrink back or suck in my gut. In to where I want to be. With that in mind, it’s time to go. I’m gonna make a fat wooden effigy of myself and put it in my front yard, so when I get back from my runs I can stop and brood at it (while reflecting on how I was responsible for Apollo Creed dying, and motivate myself to fight Mr. T) and then throw a rock at it (I don’t have a motorcycle or a helmet, yet). Much like Ivan Drago had to break Rocky, I have to break myself and put myself back together again…better, faster, more not fatter. I just wish I could grow a sweet Tepper-esque mullet along the way, and find a frayed acid-washed trench coat like I used to have. Truly, there’s no easy way in for that either.
Thanks for reading my narcissistic motivational post, and please, feel free to encourage me or razz me along the way. I deserve both of them. If I can change, you can change, and we all can change.