Friday, February 23, 2007
I Did It!
After two long months, I managed to break the 190 pound barrier. I don’t remember when I last crossed that barrier, but I’m guessing it was around the time I got married.
When I first met The Wife, I was in the best shape I’d been in since high school. I was working out 6 days a week and managed to get down to 170 pounds. Of course, we all know why I was working out. I was trying to get some action. Then I got some consistent action and the need to workout died. (When they say that a little part of you dies when you get in a committed relationship, they aren’t kidding. It’s the part of you that wants to look good in public.)
Since I met The Wife, my motivation to workout has been hovering around zero. The only time I got remotely interested was when I was getting fat enough that I had to increase my pant size. So I’d work out for a few weeks and decide, “Screw it. I need new pants anyway.” Well now that I’m training for a triathlon, I’m being forced to lose weight due to my training. And that’s a good thing. (Or so my doctor keeps telling me.)
The only problem with losing weight is that it’s slowly driving The Wife insane. And I can’t say that I blame her. You see, The Wife is pregnant. (What, you haven’t heard?) So for the last 9 months, she’s been slowly gaining weight. It’s not her fault. That’s what happens when you’re pregnant. But it has to be mildly frustrating to hear that your co-habitant is losing weight while you’re uncontrollably gaining it. I think it’s kind of like being the sparring partner for an up-and-coming boxer. He keeps on getting better and beating up on more people. So you’re happy for him. But as he gets better, he keeps beating you up more and more.
Anyway, now I have a few new goals. I want to be down to 185 by my brother-in-law’s wedding in April. Then 180 by my birthday. (It’s not until June, so you have plenty of time to buy presents.) And finally, I want to be 170 by the triathlon. I think it’s entirely doable. As long as I can find a few hours a day to tear away from The Wife, a 2-year-old and a newborn baby. Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. (Mostly because I’m expecting The Wife to kick me out of the house sometime in May.)
When I first met The Wife, I was in the best shape I’d been in since high school. I was working out 6 days a week and managed to get down to 170 pounds. Of course, we all know why I was working out. I was trying to get some action. Then I got some consistent action and the need to workout died. (When they say that a little part of you dies when you get in a committed relationship, they aren’t kidding. It’s the part of you that wants to look good in public.)
Since I met The Wife, my motivation to workout has been hovering around zero. The only time I got remotely interested was when I was getting fat enough that I had to increase my pant size. So I’d work out for a few weeks and decide, “Screw it. I need new pants anyway.” Well now that I’m training for a triathlon, I’m being forced to lose weight due to my training. And that’s a good thing. (Or so my doctor keeps telling me.)
The only problem with losing weight is that it’s slowly driving The Wife insane. And I can’t say that I blame her. You see, The Wife is pregnant. (What, you haven’t heard?) So for the last 9 months, she’s been slowly gaining weight. It’s not her fault. That’s what happens when you’re pregnant. But it has to be mildly frustrating to hear that your co-habitant is losing weight while you’re uncontrollably gaining it. I think it’s kind of like being the sparring partner for an up-and-coming boxer. He keeps on getting better and beating up on more people. So you’re happy for him. But as he gets better, he keeps beating you up more and more.
Anyway, now I have a few new goals. I want to be down to 185 by my brother-in-law’s wedding in April. Then 180 by my birthday. (It’s not until June, so you have plenty of time to buy presents.) And finally, I want to be 170 by the triathlon. I think it’s entirely doable. As long as I can find a few hours a day to tear away from The Wife, a 2-year-old and a newborn baby. Honestly, I don’t think it’ll be a problem. (Mostly because I’m expecting The Wife to kick me out of the house sometime in May.)
