chord509’s BodyBlog

This week was tough. The rest of the "resolutioners" showed up to the gym on Monday. So, my routine was thrown a bit.

Since I work out alone, I prefer dumbbell free weights and cable machines, in that order. Unfortunately, so does everyone else but the seemingly hardcore weightlifters. All of the dumbbells in the 10-35 pound range were taken and all the cable machines had lines of people waiting for them. The only stations open were the barbell benches. So, I adjusted.

So worked out with barbells instead of dumbbells and overdid it a bit. I’m just now able to move somewhat freely without grimacing and groaning. Additionally, I cricked my neck from overworking my back muscles and my arms are finally able to bend at the elbow again.

I looked at my week 1 photos and I think I can already see a difference. My actual body weight increased to 228 pounds, but I have definitely gained some muscle in the last three weeks. So, I’m not too overly concerned at this point. In the coming weeks, the muscle gains should taper off a bit and the weight will come down.

I’m not lifting overly heavy and I’m not eating more than 2,000 calories. So, my muscle gains should not be huge. Right now, my focus is on losing fat. Once I’m done with this 12 week cycle, I will see where I’m at, re-evaluate my goals, and may start a bulking regimen.

Stay tuned!

I did NOT want to work out yesterday. I began coming up with all sorts of excuses and ways of justifying not working out. It really is a bit of a chore. Finally, I reminded myself that I’m tired of being fat. I hate holding my breath to tie my shoes. I hate looking like crap. I hate that my clothes do not fit properly. I hate that I’m all gut and no butt. I hate that I don’t feel like being active. I hate the fat boy who swallowed me one day and has held me captive ever since. Moreso, I hate that I have developed Stockhom Syndrome and feel sympathetic toward the fat man I have become.

So, I did my cardio workout. SUCCESS! Yeah, I did it. Even better, I weighed myself prior to the workout and discovered I have lost 2 pounds already! That REALLY gave me the encouragement and wherewithal to get on the spin bike and pedal like a man on fire.

I am keeping this blog not only to show progress to myself, but to also (hopefully) give hope to someone else. I’d like to inspire someone else, to show others that if THIS fat boy can do it, then (REALLY) anyone can do it.

So I started my workout on Monday. I feel like an idiot at times because this is typically the time of year that we all begin wishing we were healthier, more physically fit, than we were the year before.

This year is no different than last. Last year, I made a promise to lose weight… and I broke it. Sure, I can point to all kinds of things that happened in the year: my wife’s gall bladder surgery, my wife’s brain surgery, being employeed in an unstable economy, et cetera. The bottomline is this: I made a commitment and renegged on it.

I can’t do that this year. I WON’T do that. I’m up to a 36" waistline (well, by sucking in and groaning my pants on, sure!) and can’t afford to buy a larger wardrobe. The humiliation I feel when my shirts bulge at the buttons, gasping for breath when I tie my shoes, shunning group activities when they’re competition-oriented… this is NOT the life I want to live. This is NOT how I want my children to see me. They see me as the strongest man in the world who is afraid of nothing and is dominated by no one.

I want to be the man, the hero, that my children see me as. And so… I will bust my ass in the gym and around the track until the fat boy I am dies by attrition and the man I want to become is reborn in this body.

The muscle soreness is proof of the fat boy dying. The breathlessness is evidence of the fat boy gasping for his final, dying breath. I will succeed. I MUST be victorious. If not, eventually, both the fat boy and the hero will die of some obesity-induced ailment and my children will no longer see the hero, but will inherit a legacy of laziness and self-indulgence.