Fit2Fat2Fit (20 page)

This brings me back to my conversation with Lynn, who spoke so calmly it was unnerving. She talked about the journey from her perspective, and about the effects I'd been too blind to see. After over six years of marriage and two children, it was unbearable to hear my spouse say she didn't recognize me anymore. It was even more unsettling when I realized it had nothing to do with my physical appearance.

Lynn talked about the added burden of keeping up with the house, the chores, and errands as my contributions fell off. She explained that she felt like a single parent, faced with a newborn and a two-year-old.

I knew Lynn said what she did only because she loved me. She had to be honest so that her feelings wouldn't turn into resentment. But I couldn't say anything in return. There was no defense; there was no justification.

I was fat, but I was no longer shallow. At least not shallow enough to think that weight was an exclusively physical malady. In fact, the weight itself could be managed to some extent. There were powders for chafing, lotions for stretch marks, antacids for the ailing stomach, and nose strips for the snoring.

But there was no lotion that could combat the depression that had crept into my life. I couldn't buy a powder to appease the disappointment of my child at my physical limitations. And antacids wouldn't take away the feeling that my wife had come to regard me as a stranger in her house.

Being overweight wasn't a lazy person's decision not to try. It was a symptom of a struggle within a person's emotional and mental life that transcended the physical being. Simultaneously, it was a war with society as a whole.

I was just scratching the surface of the many factors that made getting and staying healthy difficult. Everyone's battles are different, but I was beginning to finally understand the scope of the problem.

With this deeper understanding, I turned my thoughts to my pending transition from Fat2Fit. Would I be caught in the same pattern? My journey was always meant to be temporary, but I was afraid I was stuck.

There's an old saying that doctors make the worst patients. Having worked in that industry, I've heard my fair share of stories proving that true. On one hand, you'd think that the knowledge and experience a doctor can provide would make him or her a good partner in treatment. The patient-doctor could consult and discuss, and the adage that “two heads are better than one” would certainly prove true.

Yet that's the opposite of what seems to happen. When a doctor becomes the patient, the result is generally a battle of wills. There's a competition for who is right and who is wrong, and if there are various solutions to the problem, the actual doctor will have to prove why his or her treatment protocol is the right one.

I can attest that this adage crosses over into the gym. There's nothing like trying to take instruction from another personal trainer. If a fellow gym rat attempts to correct your form, you tend to do it your way with even more vigor. When presented with workout routines and meal plans from other personal trainers, you spend your time picking their choices apart because they clearly don't understand what true health is.

My decision to forgo exercise for the first month of my Fat2Fit journey was a calculated one. I knew that the key to any weight-loss program was nutrition, so I dove into my calculated plan without worrying about push-ups or pull-ups initially.

And while it took multiple months of gaining weight to start having my “aha” moments, it took only a single day on the weight-loss side to realize I had miscalculated already. Because the moment I removed Mountain Dew from my daily intake, my body revolted.

I used to scoff at clients who complained about missing their sodas (even the diet versions were forbidden) and about the severe withdrawal headaches that would ensue. I thought it was just an excuse to fall off the wagon. And yet here I was, groaning on the couch when my soda headaches commenced. The throbbing was persistent and painful, and I lost any motivation to move from my sedentary state. I resisted the urge to fuel my addiction, but the sheer fact that I considered it was alarming and frightening.

My mind was working against me. And yet I persevered. As time passed, my body got reacquainted with my spinach shake and other recipes. The headaches faded away, but the lessons remained. I finally understood what my clients kept telling me: stepping away from a lifetime of bad nutrition and poor choices was
not
just a question of making that first decision.

Every such lesson came with a sense of humility not often seen in the personal training profession. I was horrified to learn how wrong I'd been, even as I tried to be helpful.

As a personal trainer, I could always see that some of my clients weren't capable of pushing themselves adequately. If they were, why would they need a trainer in the first place? I had to take them to the next level for their own good, not just during our sessions but during our follow-up calls and conversations.

When I sat down to design my own Fat2Fit program, I was ambitious. I knew what my fitness levels had been just seven months previously, and this was my chance to prove that, when motivated, I could accomplish great things. Especially because I knew about muscle memory. Yet by the time I got to the gym, I wasn't an ambitious personal trainer. I wasn't even an enthusiastic client.

The self-doubt that had crept into my mind as my body changed was still omnipresent. Even worse, when I did walk through the gym doors and saw my picture on a bulletin board (an old Fit2Fat2Fit journey flyer), I could feel my ego shrinking. I wanted to disappear into a back corner; I didn't want anyone to check my form or see my struggles.

For the first time in my life, I was doing push-ups on my knees—and barely surviving the process. Halfway through my workout, my legs felt as though they were going to give out. My psyche wasn't doing much better.

I was caught between how much I'd lost in the last seven months and how hard the trek back was going to be. And I saw the world through my clients' eyes, thinking there wasn't any reason for encouragement in barely finishing a set of exercises. And don't get me started on the shame in having to drop to my knees just to get through. Working out wasn't a display of possibilities now; it was a reminder of just how unmanageable every little step felt. If the first six months of my journey had shown me how my weight gain could put an emotional strain on my wife, children, and other loved ones, I wasn't prepared for the level of support I would need in crawling back.

On a daily basis, I had to struggle to get motivated. My wife would literally push me off the couch to get me to the gym. I'd have moments when I wanted to cheat on my nutritional plan. My wife would be making a cake, and I'd let various strategies roll through my head as to how I could steal a piece. Surely I could restart my trip back to health the
next
day.

Yet behind every moment of weakness, there was an e-mail—a story from a follower who told me to keep going and take it one day at a time. These messages reminded me about how we motivate each other, strengthening our resolve to take charge of our own health.

And that, in the end, was the biggest lesson of all. This wasn't just about eating the right foods or following the proper workout plan anymore. I ultimately understood what people meant when they spoke about finding balance—a healthy balance between nutrition, fitness, persistence, and support. It was about finding creative ways to push yourself physically and mentally and searching out new resources. It was the realization that the journey from Fat2Fit is one you take with others. You need to surround yourself with people who will ensure that you keep getting with the program.

I'm usually greeted with two waves of responses to Fit2Fat2Fit. Initially people barrage me with superficial inquiries ranging from the size of my hips to the craziest food challenge I attempted. In a way, everyone is interested in what it would be like to live with an unrestricted diet and avoidance of physical activity.

Only after going through the whole cycle of last year did I realize that their inquiries almost always started where my own journey began—in the physical. Perhaps that's because it's painfully obvious: there's no getting around the rotund belly I had developed. But maybe it's also because, deep down, anyone who has been overweight knows that the real battle lies in the emotional and mental difficulties presented.

When the first wave of inquiries fades, questions change in tone. People begin to ask how I felt about myself as a heavy person, how my family fared, and other such internal matters. In other words, they get down to those emotional and mental difficulties.

As I made my way from Fit2Fat2Fit, daily stories from my Twitter feed and Facebook postings told other people's stories. I was inspired by a man who readily admitted to falling off the nutritional wagon during a vacation, only to come back more committed and drop seven pounds in a single week. I found hope in the stories of followers who were able to keep up with their children, mow their own lawn, or start teaching their family how to eat and be healthy.

I learned that in order to overcome my own weight gain, I had to first accept that the journey would challenge me physically, mentally, and emotionally. I couldn't stick to my old patterns on my way back. There was a level of mental and physical balance required to reach my goals and value my goals at the same time.

The ultimate question: Was it worth it?

It could be argued that nothing was gained or lost in my journey, from a physical standpoint. I started with a 34-inch waist and ended with the same. My reflection was eerily similar (even manscaping had resumed!) after the final transformation to what it had been 365 days prior.

But emotionally and mentally, I'm living a different life. It's amazing what you take for granted when you're healthy (and have been for as long as you can remember). Even the simple joys of housework become a big deal when taken away.

My oldest daughter now seems to be in a perpetual good mood because I can't get enough of chasing her. I look forward to being able to do the same with my one-year-old.

Every date with my wife holds extra meaning, as I realize what gaining 75 pounds nearly took away from me, and what losing 75 pounds gave me back. (Answer: my life.) And that's what makes every step worth it. I now realize that my health has a direct effect on those around me, and I'll never forget that they stuck with me and encouraged me to complete my journey. With each new client, I will emphasize the focus on community. I cannot repeat its importance enough.

Beyond my wife and family, however, lies a group of individuals who made every meal plan, workout routine, withdrawal from Mountain Dew, and tough-love session from my wife worth it beyond anything I could have imagined. It's the people who joined me on the journey from Fat2Fit2Fat.

I now believe that every e-mail, letter, and vote on a web poll played a crucial role. Those who challenged me strengthened my resolve to complete the cycle and be open to the lessons that could come, even when I didn't want to learn them. Those who showed the courage to take on my meal plans and workout routines themselves kept me accountable. I couldn't slack off or cheat: they would know—and so would I. The Fit2Fat2Fit community made me realize that you never go it alone when it comes to health and fitness, but instead fight through together.

A grand total of 365 days. Six months of unrestricted diet and absolutely no working out, followed by six more months of food withdrawal, prepared meals, cruel workouts, and a never-ending support network.

A single journey from Fit2Fat2Fit. But perhaps more accurately, a journey from Fit2Fat2 …
changed
—in every possible way.

My yearlong odyssey was an extreme, of course. Gaining weight intentionally and then trying to lose it in a tight schedule was what I felt I needed to do to understand the struggles so many of us face with our health. Throughout this process, my very specific journey led to some universal takeaways.

Some of us might need to lose 15 pounds. Some may be looking just to get into better physical shape. Some have been struggling with weight all their lives. It doesn't matter where you are when you start. It matters
that
you start. Everyone is on their own journey.

During the many days when I struggled, I always hoped I would come to the end of this journey with something of value to pass on. I started this odyssey to equip myself to better help others and soon learned that I was the one who needed help. I could never have done this alone.

Perhaps the biggest lesson, and the one I want to leave with you here at the end, is to
share your experience
. It may be with a family member, a key friend, a strong community, a trainer (one who understands!), or online. It doesn't matter who—it just matters that you don't attempt the journey by yourself. You can accomplish all your health goals and change your life for good, as long as you've got support behind you and the courage to declare your own journey.