The Fat Man Chronicles: Part 1
Moose Tracks
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Dan Martynowicz
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Friends, I have a confession to make … I am fat.
I know the politically correct term is either “overweight” or “obese,” but “fat” is easier to say, easier to type, more to the point and, let’s just be honest here, correct.
I weigh 285 pounds and roughly 30 percent of that is pure, unadulterated fat. I drink far more Red Bull and pop than is safe or reasonable, have something akin to an addiction when it comes to red meat, and, according to the Center for Disease Control, I’m in good company. The latest figures from the CDC show 69 percent of Americans over the age of 20 are either overweight or obese.
Their words, not mine. I would have just said, “If our continent sinks into the ocean, at least we’ll know why.”
Now, before you get all upset and start sobbing into your bacon-wrapped cinnamon bun, take a deep breath and relax. This is about me and my ultra-soft torso, not you. I’m not here to tell you how to live your life because:
A) That’s the government’s job
B) I know exactly how awesome bacon tastes
C) I really, truly, do not care what you do with your body. It is, after all, your body and even if I did care … what would I have to say about it? Nearly three-quarters of the population, myself included, is quite literally tipping the scales of the argument.
But I want something different for myself. I like being able to sprint to the top of a mountain if the mood strikes me. So last week, when I realized that my physique had diminished to “Michelin Man” status, I decided to take action.
In years past, staying in shape was as easy as joining an organized sport. However, as there seems to be a shortage of semi-pro football and rugby programs in the valley, I decided I would get back into shape by changing my diet.
So, I went vegan.
I was vehemently committed to eating nothing but rice, vegetables and fruit … and I stayed vehemently committed for a whole 36 hours. I broke the streak with three massive helpings of prime rib, biscuits, pork-sausage gravy and a four-hour nap that was more akin to a coma than actual rest.
It was bliss.
And by the way, I know people tend to make fun of vegans and vegetarians, but I’m here to tell you that those people have more willpower than Stalin. Being hungry is one thing, but eating green vegetables and rice for 36 hours will make your stomach feel like it is trying to digest itself.
But I still wanted to get into shape, and since getting into shape is much easier when you actually have a goal in mind, I decided I’d run Polson’s 2015 half marathon.
Last week I ran more than 10 miles total … something I have not done in more than four years. I don’t know if it’s because I’m getting older, because I’ve become a sissy or because I haven’t run that far or that hard in quite a long time, but I hurt.
My traps, neck, shoulders, back, forearms — literally, pick a muscle group — feel like I owe the mafia a substantial amount of money.
Even so, I’m feeling better and thinking clearer than I have in a very long time. It feels really good to be getting back to the old me, and if that means wheezing, coughing and generally sounding like a walrus giving birth to farm equipment for a half-hour a day, so be it.
And, which is more, I still get to eat red meat.
