OK... Flash back in time to January, 2011. We are moving my youngest daughter into her dorm after the winter break. Outside the elevator of her floor is a scale. If you are over the age of 40, you know the kind. The one from gym glass with counter weights, to measure your exact weight. So, I climb on the scale, and the damn thing says, 241 pounds. Now, granted, I am wearing a winter coat and boots. But, what the hell? Two hundred and forty-one pounds? There is no way I could weigh that much!
Still, I was in denial. Then there was the TV interview on Channel Six. As I watched myself on TV, I kept wondering who the hell is the fat guy? Had I really consumed so much booze and food that I now looked like Roseanne's husband?
So, I began a quest. I wanted to get back to the weight I had when I met my wonderful wife. I weighed 185 pounds and could fit comfortably in 32" waist jeans. I could run three miles in about 25 minutes and play some street football afterwards. So, street football is way behind me. However; this morning I ran 3.29 miles in 40 minutes.
Today, I weighed in at 205. My target weight is no longer an impossible dream. I still have a long way to go, but I feel the next 20 pounds will not be as hard as the first twenty. The quest continues...
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