Carry that weight

Sunday delivered a noticeable bump up in the temperature--in other words, it hit the 60s--and thus ushered in what truly merits being called spring. The sun was out. No justification was needed for those who wished to wear shorts The furnace could be turned off.

In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of shaking off the dust, rust, and other things accumulated from being cooped up. For the first time in the season I donned a pair of shorts when going for a walk around the neighborhood. I'm recommitting myself to eating well and exercising, two things that basically went down the tubes during the late fall and winter. I regained some weight--not a lot but enough to be obvious and enough that I don't want to carry.

I've quickly been reminded of the folly of those bad habits. The aches, oh, the aches after overdoing it on the nearby middle school track. Here's a bright idea: let's see how short of a distance I can run. (The answer: a quarter of a mile before the body shouts back in great protest. At least I was wise enough to listen and walk the rest of a few miles.) After a few consecutive days of exercise the majority of the soreness has dissipated. My memory also goes for a jog and is refreshed regarding the mental clarity a good walk or run produces.

Reestablishing habitual exercise has been relatively easy, albeit with its pains, but the dietary aspect requires stronger discipline. It's not overeating, which I don't think has ever been a problem for me; it's eating the proper things. When I was a kid and in college I could get away with eating less well--I won't say poorly--because of the regular physical activity I got. Over a number of post-college years of eating on the run and not exercising--a common problem for time-strapped people in this go-go-go age--it catches up with you.

More precisely, the dubious dietary regimen becomes tough to shake. Eating well is hard. There are no shortages of convenient but nutritionally suspect options a grocer's aisle or drive-thru away. The healthful stuff takes time to prepare, and when only needing one serving, it can seem distasteful to have all those leftovers to eat for days or wasteful to pitch what can't or won't be consumed before it goes bad.

When changing one's ways, the beginning is a constant fight, which I'm relearning now. The challenge is more mental than physical. If there's one thing I know from past experience, it is not to bring the junk home in the first place. If I don't have it on hand, I can't eat it. I don't deny myself completely, which is a fool's errand, but I work on finding better alternatives and willing myself to use control for how much of it I eat.

So I'm packing my lunches each day and making my dinners, even if it means having the same blasted thing five or six times a week because that's how much I cooked one night. I'm laying off the pop as much as possible, which hasn't been that difficult despite my regular drinking of the stuff in the past.

I do feel better and have noticed what I'd like to believe is some minor weight loss in the week in a half that I've attempted to right my ways. I refuse to weigh myself, so this is purely an educated guess. My philosophy about the scales is that they can only be discouraging. If I notice a difference in how things fit or how I feel, that's all the evidence I need.

In the end, it's not really about the weight loss, which I expect I'll be able to do without much trouble once I've been on the right course for awhile. It's about lifestyle change. As with anything worth doing, it takes determination and effort to succeed. The initial steps have been taken on the long path. Now I just needed to keep picking up my feet and going the next pace forward again and again.