Starting
Weight:
|
237.6
|
Original Target*:
|
248.6
|
Adjusted Target:
|
235.8
|
Actual Weight:
|
234.6
|
Loss/Gain:
|
–
2.2
|
Total Loss:
|
68.0
|
% of Goal:
|
49.1%
|
Avg. Loss/Wk.:
|
–
2.3
|
*Original target calculated from a
starting weight of 302.6 lbs. and an average loss/wk. of 1.8 lbs.
|
|
And here are the month-ending numbers:
Starting
Weight:
|
239.2
|
Target Weight:
|
231.2
|
Actual Weight:
|
232.8
|
Loss/Gain:
|
–
6.4
|
Avg. Loss/Wk.:
|
– 1.4
|
As I said yesterday, I missed the month-ending goal by 1.6 lbs. However, it’s a new month with a new goal: 225.1 lbs. I’m five pounds away from completing the Halloween
challenge; I should have that knocked out by the beginning of October. The next
secondary goal is the 2/3rds mark, ≤ 210.2, which is only slightly above my year-end
goal; more than likely, the weigh-in that achieves one will achieve the other
as well. Already, I’m close to the weight range in which I spend most of my
twenties and thirties — still obese, but far less so than when I was in my
forties. (My ideal range is something I passed when I was a young teenager and
shorter than I am now.)
By the way, I didn’t tell you I have hypothyroidism. Not
taking your hypothyroid medication does make it harder to lose weight. That
partially (but not sufficiently) explains the period from 8/23 to about 9/6,
when my weight went back up and wouldn’t come down: I had run out of
levothyroxine and put off picking up the refills. No more of that.
Just shy of 70 pounds in seven months. That’s quite a feat,
no matter how you look at it. And it all began pretty much on a whim.
I think the major difference between now and the last time I
ran this program is that I realized This is the way I have to live the rest
of my life. Maintenance mode will have a higher calorie budget than does
losing mode. Nevertheless, I’ll still have to watch my intake, adjusting it
downward as I grow older, until for some mortal reason it no longer matters.
I’m pre-diabetic. My younger brother, God rest his soul,
avoided any changes that adult-onset type-1 diabetes didn’t absolutely force on
him, which contributed to his death at the horribly early age of 43. He was
determined to live as much as possible the way he always lived, doing the things
he wanted to do, without ever reckoning the cost. Only recently have I come to
realize how close to that mindset I am as well. Nobody’s life is completely
their own to spend as they wish. And, believe it or not, that’s a good
thing for us all. Someday I may tell you why.
So now I’m in the backstretch of the race. Because I lost so
rapidly at the beginning, I’m about two months ahead of where I’d originally
planned to be. I could complete the main program as early as mid-June, after
which would come some tweaking to reach a good maintenance weight. But let’s
not look too far ahead again; there’s still plenty of time to sabotage myself
through either arrogance, loss of discipline, or too much concern over problems
that haven’t arisen yet. Many alcoholics fall off the wagon at least once in
their recovery. So it is with gluttony.
The backstretch, as racers know, is a little more about
endurance than it is about speed. It’s about keeping your place and not running
too low on energy, conserving for the final turn and the big push to cross the
finish line. Many burn too much too soon, running out of internal resources
yards or miles before they complete the last quarter. I stumbled a bit last
month, but it’s important I don’t over-compensate by pushing harder. There’s no
one to beat but myself. I’ve already come much further much faster than I did
10 years ago. There’s still 68.8 lbs. to go.
And if I cross the line on August 3 as originally projected,
rather than on June 8 or July 6, I’ll still be under a BMI of 25, which is the
final goal of the main program. Eyes on the prize.
That’s where I am now. Take a moment today to reflect on the
losses eighteen years ago. But while we should never forget what happened or
all the people who died that day, remember that our business is to live.
The past is a thing to remember, not a place in which to dwell.
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