In January of 2020 emotionally, I was at my lowest, and conversely, my weight was at its highest. I had been beaten down. I was Springsteen’s “dog who was kicked too much.” I was a shadow of the person I once was. I was woefully suffering at hands intent on crushing the last breath from my lungs. I was at a point so low I was living a life dominated by the comfort of despair. That low point led me to give serious consideration to the one “irreversible” option. In my heart, at that time, I believed it was the ONLY escape from the torture and torment which was being inflicted. I knew not if it would be a painless solution, but I believed it to be a prudent one. Yet, thankfully, for some unknown reason, I did not take that leap to the other side. Instead, I planted my feet firm. I lowered my head and decided to go toe to toe with the bastards in my life, to try and uncover and rediscover a mind and body that were once brimming with vigor, strength and power. I fought against the obese and obesity that had shrouded my being. I fought to shake free the yokes of the oppressors which had controlled me, and were taking from me any enjoyment of the gift of life — stifling and strangling that life from me.
That robbed me of living a better life. That had brought me to a state of ill-health. That had pushed me to embracing the demons. Effort was required. I didn’t go from 375lbs to completing triathlons in less than 18 months in one giant step. It took — –One meal at a time. –One workout at a time. –One moment at a time.