Battle of the Bulge

Let me just get it out here once and for all. I have trouble with my weight. It's a war ladies and gentlemen and right now the weight is winning. The tide of this battle needs to turn and I'm not sure I'm willing to use the weapon that I know will win it. Of course there is the argument that I'm not fat, just too short for my weight, or I'm not fat, just big boned. Somehow these arguments don't get it, though.

For the record, I am 59 years old and I remember being 21. I could drop 10 pounds in a week. I was, how shall I put it, hmmm, okay, skinny. Any hint of the weight going up beyond acceptable range and I'd just cut out eating one of my daily meals for a while. That cranked up 21 year old metabolism would just burn those calories like dried out leaves in a pile in fall. Blammo! The weight would be gone in a week or less.

In my early 30's I lived in Austin, Texas and I was poor and didn't own a car. I walked a lot. Now that I look back on it, I don't think I ate that much either. In 1983 I moved to Minneapolis and weighed in at 20 pounds less than I weighed when I graduated from high school. I was really skinny. I got a better job. I got a beat up old car. I walked less. I think I ate more as well. I gained weight back to my high school graduation weight. Still, relatively skinny in R.D. World.

Then I met a woman that I ultimately married. I stayed out till all hours less. I ate regular meals. I quit smoking. I moved to Chicago. I discovered Chicago style deep dish pizza. I got a better job yet. I turned 40. The metabolism began to slow a bit. I joined a gym and started working out regularly. Gained a little weight, but within an acceptable range. I only weighed 5-10 pounds more than I did in high school.

Then came the late 40's and early 50's. The old metabolism just quit burning calories. The gym workouts held the line for the most part until the Thanksgiving to New Year's stretch each year. Too much party and family and food and drink and every year I'd put on a few pounds. I'd usually work really hard to get rid of the holiday weight in the months afterwards, but somehow every year a couple more pounds would be added on to the operating weight.

Then one day in my early 50's I woke up and got on a scale and I weighed 220 pounds. My older sister remarked at a family gathering, "You're finally starting to look like a Ray." Woop! Woop! The alarms went off. The gym workouts weren't getting it. I went outside and started running. (Dieting never entered my head. Two ways to lose weight: 1) Eat less. 2) Burn more calories. I opted for the burning more calories option.)

At first I could barely run around the block. Then I started getting used to it and running farther, and for a longer time. I got to where I was running 25 miles/week. I was losing weight. Someone told me, "Hey, if you're running that much, you should run a race." Me? I don't think so. I ran a 10K. I thought I could run it faster and signed up for some training. I ran it faster.

Next spring I signed up for training for a Half Marathon. Completed that. Signed up for training for the Chicago Marathon. Completed that. I was hooked on running. I lost 25 pounds. Still significantly over my high school weight, but my sister wasn't telling me I looked like a real Ray anymore.

The thing is, if I don't run all the time, the weight keeps coming back. It's never reached 220 again, but the metabolism seems to be creeping toward the zero factor. I look at food and gain weight. If I experience one of those running injuries that occur occasionally, and have to quit running for a while the weight creeps up. It's a struggle to keep the weight below 200. (Sometimes I lose the struggle.)

I am reminded of my Grandpa Vandevier who never was fat. He ate cold All Bran cereal for supper every night at 5 PM. Sorry, I like pizza occasionally. I like a glass of wine or two in the evenings. I like to go out to Italian restaurants and pig out at 9 or 10 o'clock at night. Grandpa Vandevier I'll never be. I try to eat less, but it's difficult. I try to keep running and for the most part I do. Then after a satisfying 5 mile run, I order pizza. I earned it. I'm not fat. I'm just too short for my weight.