Goodbye 2011 ... And to a Large Part of Me

I think the calendar year is constructed well with spiritual and secular holidays. For Thanksgiving we give thanks; into Christmas where we remember our Creator, shortly followed by the turnover of the calendar into a new year. It's reflective. It's rejuvinating. It's a tangible line in the sand for one to step over and start again.

In reflecting, what stands out with the kids is Karissa's wonderful year of growth and milestones, while Kole ramped up his potty training, comprehension and vocabulary. We have introduced the concept of a "big boy" to Kole and are losing grasp with the things that made him a cuddly little baby and toddler. Karissa now has a small plate of what we eat - as her bottles and bottle washing gear, begin to collect dust and clog up our cabinet space. Every time we turn around we see some toy that doesn't belong. Something that somehow escaped a bedroom closet, or stash space in the living area.

It's a rattle, or a teething ring, or a finger puppet. It's something for a little itty-bitty baby, and now depresingly out of place.

Kathy is a better mother than she'll ever give herself credit for, but has recently come to the conclusion that she is ready to re-enter the workforce on a part-time basis. She will work two days a week at her old X-ray job, then every other week she will work three days in a week. Five days every two weeks. Semi-permanant daycare has had to be established. The home and lives of the people therein continue to evolve.

And then there's the daddy. Good year. The higlights, outside of every day and hour spent with my wife and kids, has to be attending the Rangers ALCS playoff games against Detroit. I've been a Rangers fan all my life, and covered them every day as a reporter on the Budweiser Rangers Report on Channel 5 for four years. I cover other sports for a living now. I go to no fewer than 100 live sporting events every year - but I'm never allowed to be a fan, even if I want a team to win. The Rangers were a different territory. It wasn't for work. It was on the doorstep of the World Series. Luckily, cousin Brent is far more successful than I am and could afford playoff tickets and invited me to three ALCS games. I'll never forget the clinching Game 6. Being able to cheer like a kid again - screaming and jumping in my seat like a mental patient off his meds. I cared about the Rangers in the World Series. I wish I could say I didn't. But, I did. It sucks they lost. But, being there when they clinched the ALCS and made it to the World Series was an experience I'll treasure.

Now, on to the part that is the most personal I've ever blogged about, and toughest to admit.

In February, I turned 40. Quite a milestone. At that time, I had a 2-year-old and a 5-month old. And without stepping on a scale, I knew I was well over 300 pounds. A scale didn't need to tell me. A scale some time before informed me that I was 280, then 285, then 290, then 295. Then I stayed away from the scale. But, I knew. Whether it was 301 or 311 was essentially insignificant. I knew I hit a number that was not only undesirable and unattractive to the superficial world. It was dangerous. It was irresponsible. Being the breadwinner in a household of three precious others, I had collateral damage all around me. It was ignorant and selfish. It was lazy.

Was there a breaking point beyond just looking into a mirror? Of course there was. March 4, an American Eagle flight from DFW to Des Moines for a championship event at Iowa State. I was seated and reading a book while the boarding process continued. As a flight attendant began shutting overhead bins, she came to my seat and said, "Can you buckle your seat belt." I then clumsily marked my book and put it in the seat pocket in front of me, then did that squirmy dance where I look for the straps of the seatbelt from underneath my loins, yanking and tugging them out.

All the while, the flight attendant stood and watched and waited. I quickly glanced at her and made eye contact. She was giving me that look of partial pity and partial impatience. I then realized that her previous comment was not a statement of instruction.

It was a question.

Not, Can you buckle your seatbelt - pretty-please with sugar on top? It was - Are you capable of fastening that belt around your ample waist and belly? My face had to have been as red as it ever has been in my life. Not red with embarrassment. Red with anger.

I grabbed both sides of the seatbelt, scooted back in my seat, inhaled, and clamped the two ends together with no slack to spare. I smiled back at the flight attendant, like, "Happy?" Before stepping away she leaned in and in a hushed voice said, "Let me know if you need an extension."

I stared at my open book for the rest of the flight but never read a word. I just fumed. An extension? That's a tool used by people who buy clothes at Big & Tall shops, motor through a grocery store on a Rascal and take the fatty ramp to the all-you-can-eat buffet. No matter how I wanted to view myself and my generous love handles, it was clear that society and the medical field was viewing me as obese. A heart attack waiting to happen.

For the next few months my brain would stew. I knew my weaknesses. It was not sweets or fried food or fast food. It wasn't a food classification. It was volume. It was portions. Even if it was healthy and low-fat, I'd pile it on and lick the plate clean and go back for more. And with little ones in the house, empty calories are everywhere - Doritos, Oreos, etc.

Women must wonder what is going through their husband's mind when they talk and talk, and the husband is zoned out, mind somewhere else. We get accused of tuning them out. Comedians, men and women alike, can live like a king making fodder of this interaction. Many, many nights, I would come home and be completely tuned out and zoned out. I would get busted tuning Kathy out. It made a tough time tougher. Yes, I know I should have talked about it. But, I didn't want to. I wanted to grovel. I wanted to stew. I wanted to plot. I wanted to do something about my weight that was bullshit proof. I tried to do as much of this thinking as possible away from home, but sometimes I couldn't help but to let it follow me through the door when I should have been paying attention to the others inside.

I knew my weaknesses and strengths. I tried gyms and fitness centers and couldn't make it fit my schedule. I wasn't going to realistically stick with a plan that was based on eating pre-packaged low-cal crap. I didn't want to sit in meetings, participating in Pity Parties and heaping false praise on strangers just to get the same in return. I had to start a regular workout regiment. But how? When? I got two little ones and a wife who is routinely stir crazy from them once I get home from work and often wasn't up to cooking right after one or both kids refused to go down for a nap - and I don't blame her.

It took me a few months to find those answers, research them, and plot a plan of attack. I didn't need New Year's Day for mental moxie and a phony resolution. I had that. Another frustrating piece of this puzzle. I just needed all the pieces of the puzzle to fall into place. And after Kole's 3rd birthday in June, my work schedule lightened up. The weekend after Kole's birthday was a little RV get-away that Kole, myself and my dad took to Lake Whitney. When I got back, the door was wide open for at least 6-8 weeks where my work was about as close to a stand-still as it is all year. Lots of down time, half-days and half-weeks. That's when the plan was going to be enacted.

On June 30, I stepped on a scale for the first time in a long time. I weighed 307 pounds. I really felt like it could have been more. I began a high-protein, low-carb/no-carb diet of less than 1000 calories per day. I drank at least one gallon of water throughout the day. After a couple of weeks, I began going for walks around the neighborhood. It was early July and the DFW area was in the midst of a record heat wave. The summer saw 70 days of at least 100 degrees, 40 of those days were consecutive and included the entire month of July. Many days clipped over 105. In the late afternoon, when the temperature was peaking - but the kids napping - is when I hit the pavement and began going on extended walks. I slowly increased my distance and time spent walking. Soon enough, I found myself walking more than four miles in relentless 106 degree heat without even a whisper of a breeze.

On August 5, just before Kathy and I's 6th Anniversary, I weighed 276. I had dropped 30 pounds in July alone. Down another 10 pounds in August. Then another 10 pounds by Karissa's 1st birthday on Sept. 22 - officially the 50 pound mark, in just under three months. I've lost another 10 since then, while enjoying the holidays and all the solid and liquid treats that come along with it. I've attempted to at least maintain my weight, if not losing, and have done so. I'll hit January 1st at least 60 pounds lighter than I was on July 1st and a full 10 fewer inches around my belly.

Work was cranked up and busy by September, but I was walking - and occasionally jogging - after the kids went to bed, around 8:30. I discovered podcasts, and found some programs I actually enjoyed listening to, as opposed to the same 16 songs on shuffle every day. I challenged myself: Jog all the way to that light pole, then walk no further than that corner before jogging again for at least a 60-Mississippi count.

I stayed firm to my calorie intake and portions. Kathy and the kids deserve credit for tolerating me. Most nights, I ate something different than the rest of them. Overall, they were good sports and helped make my journey tolerable. Every night as Kole got in his PJs, I got in my walking shoes and earbuds. More recently, a jacket and hat and gloves join the mix. "Daddy go for a walk" he'll say.

Yep. Going for a walk. Walking away from an early grave. I've attached some before-and-after photos, but I'll end with two stats: In June, on a routine dental check-up, they nearly wouldn't clean my teeth because my blood pressure was 152/98. At last check, on Dec. 9, it was 118/72.

I have no New Year's resolution except to be a better husband and father and to enjoy life more now that I'm not toting around the 60 pounds I started the year with. I won't worry about busting a button on an XXL shirt, now that I'm loosely draped by my old XLs, plus some new Christmas ones. Although, by my birthday in February I do have a goal weight in mind. We'll see.