I peaked too early this year. It was back in April. I was skinny and in terrific climbing form. My weight was at 73 kilos on my 1.83 meter tall frame (160 pounds and 6 feet tall). My diet was great, lots of fruits and veggies, no deserts and just a glass or two of wine or beer on the weekend. I was on a monastic schedule, getting to bed early and waking up at 5 a.m. I was on the bike almost every day, with four-hour rides in the mountains on the weekends. I was in the best shape of my life since my cross country and track days in high school when I could run a 4:30 mile. Still, that voice was in my head, whispering, “Why must you be depriving yourself like this? Live the good life! Enjoy things! Or you’ll regret it.”
With just a few days left in 2010, I have yet to hit rock bottom. But I’m close. My weight is at 78 kilos, probably closer to 80. I’m afraid to step on the scale. I feel puffy, sluggish and bloated. I got on the rollers yesterday and struggled to do a 30-minute workout without stopping. To be fair, I just finished a two-week trip overseas that wasn’t conducive to working out. But even before then, my training had become erratic. Now, I lack that wonderful confident conquer-the-world feeling we have when we’re in great shape. Last week, while in Sao Paulo, I was shuffling back to my hotel around midnight after another dinner of steak and some sort of fried potatoes, washed down with red wine and lager. I started thinking about how I’ve been living the good life, indulging with friends and colleagues. But a voice kept getting louder in my head. It was saying, “Help! Get me out of here! If this is what the good life is, I don’t want it anymore!”
It was an epiphany of sorts. Partying past midnight, intellectualizing over pints of micro brew and amid clouds of ciggy smoke – it’s not me. Wearing a middle-age paunch and dreading a jog around the park. I don’t want to be that person. I used to wonder if on my death bed, I will regret living the discplined athlete’s life. The self-induced suffering, deprivation, early morning wake-ups, skipping the cheesecake and leaving the bar after the first drink – or skipping it altogether. Now, I’m more certain than ever that I will have no regrets. It’s just not my kind of life.
Most people wait until Jan. 1 to reform themselves. But for me, the comeback has already begun.Posted: December 20th, 2010 | Author: wafflesandsteel | Filed under: Uncategorized | 3 Comments »