Twosocks42’s BodyBlog

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At 261lbs with a 25% body fat, you could say that I was carrying more on my shoulders than I felt ready to bear. My knees and back were in constant pain; I was suffering the symptoms of sleep Apnea and developing Insulin Resistance. Sure, I wasn’t at a point yet where I was already suffering from serious health problems, but their coming was sure as day. The heavier I got the less drive I had; and though my working out at the gym had dropped some of the burden, I was still carrying too much. This contest was answer to more problems than one. While the prizes were alluring, I held no illusions that I stood much of a chance of winning. Rather, I saw a competition, something to drive me and people there to help me along the way.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t see the same swollen bellied fat guy I saw three months ago. When I sleep, I truly sleep- no longer do I wake up sputtering for air. My blood sugar has quit diving constantly, my joint health is improving and already I feel so much better. Sure, the material prizes are wanton treasures that I and anyone else would love to have. However, I am happy with the one treasure I have taken with me from this contest- a commitment to living life healthy, and the knowledge that I can succeed, no matter the adversity.

So, picture this if you will. It’s 10:15 at night. You just got done putting in a hard day at work and you are done for the week. You have a day off and that drive home is more tempting than ever. Instead, you’re changed into shorts and a t-shirt, standing alone in this small therapy gym that’s been there all along, largely ignored by the staff who are free to use it. You walk over to the radio they have in there- a quite obviously old and worn out thing, with scuffs all over it and labels that have faded into obscurity. You try to throw a Compact Disc in it, but the machine just gives you repeated errors and threatens to consume the disc you put in there, so you pull it out and leave it at that. Playing with the tuner, you find you can pick up two AM news stations and one crackly FM station- “HOPE” Christian soft rock and contemporary, just when you need to get you jazzed about working out.

No matter, you leave it there anyway, so at least there is something in the background besides the still quiet that has ushered over the nursing home. Positioning the only fan in the gym on yourself, you get it turned on and find that it at least works, taking what you can get. With everything in place, you find there is nothing more left to stall with and that you must get down and face the treadmill lying ominously in the back, waiting for you to dare operate it. No matter, a brisk run was what you had come for and a brisk run was what you would take.

Stepping up on to the platform, you find the set up a little strange- controls in odd places and a deck that doesn’t quite extend as far as you would like, making for a bit of a bigger pain. It was what they had, so, ignoring such trivialities you step up to the front and run your fingers over buttons, searching for the one that would make this thing run. It’s about then you notice the name of the brand, a simple, single word that struck me more in more ways than I could count.

Epic.

A simple word. When said alone without context it could really mean almost anything or simply nothing at all. Many times I had heard it said purely for the sake of making a sarcastic point, yet this time no negative connotation slipped through my mind. Rather, it touched me briefly and left nearly as fast as it had taken me, leaving me to wonder why such a brand name had such a profound effect on me. Shrugging it off, I fumbled through the controls and found how to start the machine, quickly putting it up to my usual pace, 7.5% incline and 4mph.

The pace was easy enough, a warm up really. Deciding the incline wasn’t quite enough, I jumped it to 8% and continued, working until I came to my first interval, switching the speed up to 7.2mph, getting into a good fast jog. As usual the endorphins flooded and the sense of floating came over me, giving that much needed boost to help motivate me into going further. It was while I charged up this hill that the word Epic struck me again, starting to take root in my mind. For some reason, just thinking of it was making me want it more. So, the next interval put it up to 7.7mph, before just saying the hell with it and throwing it up to 8mph.

So, imagine if you will, running alone in this little therapy gym surrounded by equipment older than yourself, running your ass off after a hard day’s work while blasting cheesy Christian music (hey some is good, but not this station), all for the sake of doing what you should have done a long time ago- taking control of your weight, your health, your life and doing something about it. Running harder than I have before, running in spite of my desire to go home was… Epic.

It’s then I realized that everything I had done so far, everything I plan on continuing to do, is just that- epic. Putting my wear aside, forgetting about that vending machine with all kinds of tasty (but terrible) things within, doing nothing but becoming in tune with my body and my desire to become better myself was an epic transformation. It was on this tremendous feeling of accomplishment I pushed myself up to 9mph and the same incline for my final interval, running harder than I ever dared before.

When it was all said and done, as I bent over breathing heavy and praying I wouldn’t puke, I felt better than ever.

It was epic.