Over the last five years I've lost some weight. I won't go into specific numbers, but let's just say it's a fairly significant amount. Now before you start patting me on the back and telling me what a wonderful achievement it is, you can put your accolades back in your pocket. I have never looked at this like an accomplishment, but more as the righting of a wrong I committed against myself, the fixing of something that was broken, nothing more. I took responsibility for my actions instead of rationalizing, making excuses and denying my reality. I chose to live, as opposed to being crushed to death under the weight of my own weakness.
In the end it was a simple choice. I wanted to ride a motorcycle as fast as my skill would let me, and that wasn't going to happen carrying around what amounted to a small person all the time.
Getting fit is like building speed on the racetrack. You do it slowly, or you crash and burn. Make a change, evaluate. Practice. Keep at it. Commit intelligently, fortune hates half and dumb asses. It's funny how the lessons that racing teaches are applicable in every facet of life. As long as you're moving, the race is still on.
|The author, turning laps of a different sort. All in the quest for speed.|