Day three hundred and seven ... Weighing in.

I could only keep putting it off for so long.

I had run out of excuses.

As I sat on my couch, laptop warming my thighs, with the rest of the evening free, I jumped up and made the decision.

The gym!

Yes folks, it's been about two and a half months since I have been back at it in terms of weight training--two and a half months that I can forgive myself for. Dealing with the passing of my aunt, my recurring back problems, and other suspicious injuries (I screwed up my shoulder and I don't have a good reason for it) gave me a few excuses--some more valid than others. But that particular weather pattern has passed overhead and it's time to get down to brass tacks.

Before I left the house I used my fancy new scale which I had conveniently left in Mattapoisett for the last two months. I wasn't at all surprised to find that I had put on four pounds in that time. However, my inner senses gave me every reason to believe I had doubled that. So, accordingly, I was happy to find my infraction was a mere 64 ounces.

Hell, I used to drink 64 ounces of Haffenreffer at a time (the Green Bomber as I remember calling it) out of a giant jug, and I used to like it; probably still would.

I sort of lost track of a bunch of things since the end of the summer. Some of them I have discussed in this forum, some of them are a bit more personal and have no place here (as strange as that may sound). So I am going to try to take this time--the last fifty nine days left in the year--and make amends.

My new goal is going to simply be to drop eleven pounds. I haven't been under 200 lbs. in probably ten years, so this is a goal that is not only feasible, but landmark. 

To recap: last May, I decided to start a weight training/weight loss program. At the time, I checked in at 224 lbs. (I am five foot six and three quarters inches tall). I gave myself the goal of losing 35 lbs. by mid September, a goal which was doctor sanctioned and attainable using the hypothesis that I would be able to shed 2.5 lbs. a week via dieting and regular visits to the gym. It's not that much, really, I just had to stay focused--something which was both new and beneficial to me at that stage in my sobriety. And it was easy, so to speak, while my aunt was still active and her quality of life was acceptable. And over three months I managed to drop eighteen of those 35 lbs., to peak at 206.

As my aunt's illness progressed I lost not only interest, but the access to my gym, as I spent most of my time in Mattapoisett with her. She had a treadmill, but I had become focused on her wishes and needs more than my own (for a change) and my routine came to a standstill.

My regimen of cooking healthy meals for myself had also fallen by the wayside, opting instead to buy takeout almost exclusively. This, on the surface, may seem like a death-knell, but I don't go much for the fast food junk. My weakness is a turkey pocket from D'Angelo, no cheese, no mayo, but all the veggies, mustard, and hot peppers. It's delicious, nutritious, and low in calories and fat. It's my take on the Subway diet, but I think Subway tastes like balled up napkins soaked in vinegar, so I never purposely go there.

And so, that is why I have only put back four of the eighteen dreaded pounds in the last three months. I haven't been at my best, but I also haven't fallen into a sedentary life filled with fried food and ice cream ... yet.

So here we are, once again, with a new goal in mind. The holidays are a notoriously dicey time to try to keep the calories in check, but I've got my new house to keep me busy. I've got my year of alcohol abstinence to keep me focused. And I've got my friends to keep me company. Oh, and I've got this blog to keep me honest. Hell, that's why I started it all in the first place.

Eleven pounds.

I can do that ... right?

If this great nation of ours is famous for one thing, it's for the continued usage of numbers like "one ninety nine ninety five."

And that's all I want to see for now.

Give me that slender first number (1) to replace the curvy, stubby, and sedentary digit (2) and I'll be a happy man. 

One ninety nine by 2009. I like the sound of that.

Enough baby steps will eventually make a mile.

That's true either going there, or coming back.

Thanks for reading.

F.A.J.