I’ve managed to get back on the bike the past few days. I rode 4 days last week, took Saturday and Sunday off, and hit it again today. I’ve managed to balloon back up to an unacceptable weight, and I’ve got to get back on track. And I do really enjoy my bike.
It’s seen here on a back road (State Highway 58) in Lawrence County, Indiana. Over the summer, I drug the bike up to Indiana with me when I had to go for a mediation hearing. It kept me from going nuts while I was there, and I rode daily. I think I recall writing a the time on my old blog that the hills kicked my ass.
So as of today, I’m up to 3091 miles, and the weather looks good for staying with it for a good portion of the week. That’s a good thing.
Meanwhile, I’m starving. I’m trying really, really hard to just fight it down. Even after riding 17 miles and burning 1100 (and change) calories, I can’t eat like I used to. It’s a little depressing, but I’m in the “mind over matter” portion of the program. I’ve managed to fight it down today. I thought I’d slipped when I had a poppy seed muffin with coffee this morning, but I pushed lunch back an hour and didn’t eat the yogurt I’d taken for the afternoon snack. Now I realize, a muffin is not as healthy as the fat-free sugar-free yogurt, but I figure the calorie exchange was pretty much a wash … maybe 100 more or so for the muffin. Not a bad trade.
This is the fight I fight every day. I’ve struggled with my weight my entire life. I was the hefty kid at camp. I distinctly remember the camp director telling my parents when the dropped me off one summer that he was glad to “have a good eater” for that week. I’ve always been heavy. I managed at one time just before Jen was born to get down to around 165, but couldn’t maintain it. When you have names like Furst and Hauenstein in your family heritage, you probably have a good chance at having a struggle with your weight. And, at nearly 50, the metabolism just doesn’t work like it used to. I know that I get more exercise than probably 75-80 percent of the men my age, and I’m still part of the national obesity epidemic. I just enjoy cooking, and eating, a little too much.
It’s not like I don’t have any willpower. Back in 1987 (I think) I went from 2 packs of cigarettes a day to nothing … cold turkey. There weren’t any patches or gum or that kind of thing back then. I was living in California, and even then smokers were something of a pariah in the Golden Bear state. So I got up one day and just threw them away. I didn’t tell my wife at the time, just in case I didn’t make it. But I did. So I know I have the willpower to do it. But there is a fundamental difference.
After 4 or 5 days not smoking, the urge pretty much went away. I’ve honestly never looked back, though I do enjoy a good cigar occasionally. I think 5 or 6 cigars a year is a lot different than 40 or more cigarettes a day, but my doctor may disagree.
Anyway, the urge to eat never goes away. Never. I get hungry every day … so it’s a constant battle of mind over matter. The willpower I needed to quit smoking took 5 days to get over the worst of it, and now I wouldn’t smoke a cigarette if you paid me. Well, maybe if you paid me a lot. But I have to fight this need to eat every day. And some days, it’s just easier to eat something.
So, today’s gone pretty well in that regard. I hope tomorrow can as well, and then we’ll worry about Wednesday. One day at a time works as well for trying to change your eating habits as it does for trying to kick alcohol or drugs. The difference is … eating is necessary for life. Drinking and drugs are not. I know how to approach it. I know how to make it work. I just wish I wasn’t starving. I wish I could convince myself I wasn’t starving.
Wish me luck.