Yeah, you read that headline right: A middle-aged fat guy had a kid … kinda.
The last time I hit the scales was last Saturday and that marked 2 weeks in a row where my weight loss for the year added up to 38 pounds.
Sunday was the day my wife and I went out for a nice long walk with the kids strapped into the double stroller. Everything was going fine until we were about halfway back when our 2 1/2-year-old son got sick and tired of passively riding along and wanted out of the stroller.
We granted him his freedom and he had a blast sprinting after my wife as she continued pushing the stroller through the park with our daughter on board. But when you’re 2 1/2 there’s only so much gas in the tank and the little man promptly bonked after running around in the afternoon sun for about 5 minutes.
After that all he wanted was to be in dad’s arms for the quarter mile trip back to the car. By the time we got back to our SUV I was an exhausted, sore, sweaty mess.
That’s when it hit me: Our son weighs almost as much as I’ve lost in 2011 … which means I basically gave birth to a toddler this year. It explains why I could barely do a short walk around the neighborhood when I started trying to lose weight earlier this year.
I’ve made a lot of progress this year and I believe it’s just the beginning. My eating and exercise habits have changed. What used to be a chore is now just routine which is all I could have hoped for because that was the only thing that would save me in the long run.
And on that note I’m going to close up shop on The Beer Gut Chronicles as a standalone blog. I’m slowly going to transfer this stuff over to a page on my main blog over at Junkball and update my progress as time permits (if it permits).
I head back over to Junkball a little thinner, a little wiser and a lot more hopeful that I’m on track to stay on the road to better health. I think 40 pounds lost is a mark I can hit by the end of this month and by early next year I may able to realistically hit 50 pounds lost and drop below 200 pounds for the first time since … well, I can’t even remember.
The next time I’m under that mark I’ll never forget it. Even if I drop dead of a heart attack the moment after that momentous weigh-in at least I’ll know I met a major goal and I cut my pallbearers a break.