A 45-year-old fat man trying to find his inner skinny dude.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Here we go again.

So, here's what I've been doing for the last year--raising two babies, being happy at home, and loathing my job.

The four of us--babies, wife, me--we've all put on between fifteen and twenty pounds since the babies came home after a month in the hospital.  Preemies, you know.

The girls are doing great.  They could even pack on a couple more pounds.  They're skinny kids.  Who knew I could yield skinny kids?

The rest of us, well, ugh.

I know--know for a fact, because I was conscious of it almost every time--that I spent a good amount of time eating my feelings.  It's what I do, or at least what I have done, historically-speaking.  I guess I think I couldn't help it.  The agitation had to come out somewhere.  Food crimes, my act-out of choice.  Hey, at least I'm not drinking, or on heroin.

But still.  Even at my (pretty high) weight, I notice twenty pounds (this might be a new thing).  So it's time to get back to paying attention to what I'm eating and moving more.  I don't know about you, but getting sad/depressed does not make it easier for me to get off the couch.

I have a new job, but a long (up to two hour) commute.  My eating over the last week has been better, good, even.  So the challenge is figuring out when I'm going to exercise.  The obvious answer is after the babies go to bed, but I like spending time with my wife, and we can't both leave the house.

The latest workout news is this--I've started running.  Meaning, I've bought nice shoes and have run three times (and walked once, when I was sick, because damn it, I needed it).  I grew up hating to run.  I was a fat kid.  Running sucked and so did I.  But now, I kind of like it.  I still suck at it, but I feel as though I can do it.  There's been no foot or joint pain (good shoes), and I don't beat myself up when I have to walk, which is often.  I exalt that I can move like this at all.  I just turned 46.  I have babies.  It would be fun to drop a hundred pounds in the next ten or fifteen years so I can run with them.  Come to think of it, that's a decent goal.

I hope you're all well.

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