I don’t know how it happened…it snuck up on me. I’ve become…what? Sporty is not quite to right word. What is the opposite of a couch potato? That’s me.
In 2002 I was in Paris and at an all-time weight high (125kgs). It was my 30th birthday and I was realising a dream. We were at the Arc de Triomphe and I wanted to climb the 100-or-so steps to the top to see the view of Paris. But I knew I’d not make it. I was so very unfit that it made the trip uncomfortable at times – I couldn’t do all the things I wanted to.
I came home determined to change my life. I was scared about the idea of losing weight (having had trouble with losing too much too soon in the past) so instead I focussed on getting fit. I joined the gym at work and started going.
At first it was pretty basic stuff. Walking on a treadmill, rowing machine, the dreaded crosstrainer. Eventually I got fit enough to try aerobics classes. My first step class almost killed me. Not because I was puffing but because I’m so uncoordinated that I spent the hour tripping over my step and flailing about. I decided to stick with the basics for a while longer. Walking became running, and I found myself lacing my sneakers for early morning road running, and actually enjoying it. I didn’t really lose much weight this way. In fact I think I gained weight at first. That was scary (and yes I know muscle weighs more than fat blah blah, it still freaked me out).
And so slowly I became fitter. I was never going to be super fit because I weighed in excess of 100kgs, but I was better. Healthier and happier. And eventually I did lose more weight, but that’s another story.
And now I seem to have become some kind of sporty spice. I run, I bike, I ice skate, I dance, and now I rollerblade. I’m thinking I’d like to join an indoor soccer team. How did this happen? I love it, it makes me happy and it means I can keep up with super-speedy Wyatt, but I still find it incongruous with my self-image (a lazy fatty).
I guess my insides will catch up with my outsides eventually.