Losing weight takes patience

The fitness center where I work out is looking pretty empty lately compared to when I moved to Bigfork about a month ago. I'm guessing the post-New Year's trend of giving up on resolutions to lose weight, get in shape or just make a healthy lifestyle change is starting to take effect, so I'm going to let you all in on a slightly embarrassing, but mostly encouraging, story to re-ignite those fires and get the motivation going again.

I was the fat kid in class.

Gaining, and losing, the pounds were gradual processes brought on thanks to my part-time job at Arby's while in high school and a childhood with unlimited access to soda, candy, and bacon cheeseburgers.

By the time I was 17 years old I topped out at 240 pounds and had mastered the fine art of hiding it with XXL hooded sweaters.

I didn't go on Atkins, I didn't call Jenny Craig, nor did I take any pills, join any clubs or even take Chuck Norris' advice to use a bow-flex. I didn't blame my parents for keeping the kitchen stocked with snacks, I didn't blame the schools for selling ice cream in the cafeteria each day, nor did I blame “lazy American culture” for making me that way.

I took the blame and got mad at myself for getting into a situation which would ultimately cause diabetes, heart problems, an early death, and more importantly in my wormy teenage mind, it meant not having any dates on the weekend.

Losing weight is a big project and I had no idea what I was doing, so I started small.

I replaced mountain dew with black coffee, dealing with caffeine withdrawals and hunger at the same time is too much to ask of anyone. (Don't add sugar, otherwise it might as well be a soda.)

I built a playlist of all the music I owned that got me pumped up since it quickly became evident that this was as much a mental struggle as it was a physical one.

I gradually replaced fried food, TV dinners and anything loaded with sodium, saturated fat and high fructose corn syrup with meals that tasted just as good but had an ingredient list that looked less like a chemistry experiment and more like a grocery list.

I bought a pair of running shoes and a pair of jeans that were too small. I hate wasting money, so I utilized my penny-pinching tendencies to overpower my couch potato habit. Once that pair of jeans fit, I bought another smaller pair and kept doing this until I dropped from a size 38 to a 32 and ultimately to a 28 once running became my obsession about four years later.

Finally, and most importantly, I set aside one hour each day for exercise and adamantly refused to skip it.

The best way to burn fast is with cardiovascular exercises such as swimming, running or elliptical machines. I was too embarrassed to go swimming and the elliptical machines seemed boring, so I opted for quality time with my headphones in private by jogging at night lest anyone see my gut bouncing like a jell-o mold in an earthquake.

Unfortunately, jogging wasn't just hard; it hurt more than anything I had ever felt before. My chest was pounding; stomach churning, lungs bursting and every muscle ached because none of them had ever been used like that.

Jog one block, cough, gag, wheeze, spit, slobber, stumble around until it passes and repeat the process over and over again. Gradually, one block became two, two became three and so on until it felt good, then relaxing, and ultimately an essential euphoria for stress relief that not even a pint of ice cream could compete with.

So, to any waning resolutionists, stick with it, be patient and reward yourself for the small victories along the way…just not with bacon cheeseburgers.