Filed under: Thoughts and Observations | Tags: coach, friends, helpful, jock strap, radio, support, value, weight watchers
Seventh grade was an interesting time in my life. We had moved to Utah from Florida, huge school, and the new experience of showering with 100 boys I’d never seen before…
Coach Jewkes was there. I remember him taking time in the first gym class to talk to us about the importance of wearing a jock strap. “You just play better when you know you’ve got that support” I remember him saying. I didn’t even know I needed support down there! It was an enlightening class.
Driving to work today I’m listening to the radio. Weight Watchers is talking to me. They are talking about the support system that is available through their program. Suddenly that sounds really good to me.
One of the better things of this blog is Jewels dropping into my life. Her comments have helped me feel less alone – those conversations online have helped me feel like I might not be the only one going through these very difficult things.
So today I’m driving, thinking of the support of a WW meeting, almost craving the support. And I think of Coach Jewkes. I wonder if I would play better on this field if I had more support.
Filed under: Humor, Working Out | Tags: fat, grouchy, guy, gym, help, losing, mean, offering, running, support, treadmill, weight, weight loss, workout
So I’m at the gym this morning – I don’t want to be there. No sleep last night until about 1:30–boy I’ll tell you the alarm goes off pretty early when that’s your bed time…
Then I wake up and my ankle and toe are swollen with arthritis, I can hobble but not walk. Lovely. I promised myself I was going to do this no matter what, so I drag myself down to the gym.
I get on the bike, it’s not bad after a while. I listen to RadioLab podcasts, truly inspiring stuff. So I’m digging it.
Then this guy comes in. A pudgy guy. The most obnoxious gum-chewer yet to walk this planet. I have headphones in, but I can still “hear” him chewing he’s so over-the-top about it. He jumps on a treadmill. Walking at first, then fatboy breaks into a run. And he runs, and runs, and runs. It’s kind of mesmerizing, as his front foot is coming down all of his fat is moving up. A visual symphony of opposing forces.
But he can run.
He can run.
It breaks my heart to see it. I would love to be able to just turn on a treadmill and run. I don’t care if I can only do it for 3 minutes at a time, I want to run. But arthritic ankles have me on a bike instead. So I watch him, chewing his gum in time to his running – wishing…
Now it’s time to get off of my bike, one step and I remember my ankle. I hobble up and down the hallway trying to coax my ankle into working again. As I come back down the hall I notice another guy looking at me.
You know how they look at you, begging for eye contact. Sigh. So I look at him…
He’s younger than me I think. About 6 feet 2 inches tall, pear shaped. He’s wearing a baseball cap. As he talks to me he takes it off to wipe his clearly bald head. He starts off by saying “How are you?”.
I do my first double-take. I think maybe I know him because of the familiar tone he used with me. I don’t–never seen him before in my life.
“I’m OK” I say in a way that means I’m not really OK.
“You know”, he says, “I used to be your size, I know how it feels”.
I start laughing inside. I’m an artist for a living, I’ve got a pretty good grasp of sizes, volumes, how things fit together. Quickly in my mind I grab him with a mouse by one corner and do a shift-drag to scale him up to my height. He’s still about my size! But he’s clearly trying to reach out to me…
“You know”, he continues not noticing my size-comparing smirk, “if you ever need any help, I’m here for you”.
Now he gets a full on double-take from me…
He sees it and says “I know it’s a little strange, but I’ve been down your road, let me know if I can help. I’m here all the time, just ask me”.
God love him. I’m sure he’s lost a lot of weight and thought he was doing a good thing. Between no sleep, a work out I didn’t want to do, watching fatboy run like I wish I could, and a body that seems to be bent on keeping me from accomplishing my goals just made it seem surreal to me. “Just come talk to me, I’m here all the time”??? Crazy.
He didn’t tell me his name. I didn’t ask.
P.S. Sorry if this one seems mean. That’s how it is sometimes, you know?
Doug Losing Weight 