100 Days: Days 9, 10 and 11

January 16, 2006

Days 9, 10 and 11

I work out, I screw up and I don't weigh 1,072 pounds

Don�t worry, I haven�t given up on this. I just decided to take a weekend break. Can�t a guy get a few days off from writing about losing weight? Is that so much to ask?

This weekend there were some major (sort of) developments in the 100-day health quest.

First, the good: Friday I worked out and it didn�t make my arms fall off. Much love to my boy Jeff Squier who, while spotting me Friday morning, asked me to give him a shout out in this space. He is a bit of an attention whore, but Squier is good people so we will let it slide.

Also, Sunday I had my first restaurant experience of the 100 days. I knew it had to happen eventually, and I was prepared. I was planning on eating a salad for dinner Sunday night until my old roommate Kevin called and said he was passing through town and wondering if I wanted to have dinner. Since Kevin has lived about 1,500 miles away in Chicago since I moved out here, I kind of had to go. It turns out he was in the process of moving to Colorado Springs for his new job at USA Hockey and this town is on the way.

We went out and I performed fucking fantastically. I reminded myself that short-term gratification does not lead to long-term happiness. I decided I would order diet pop and check the menu carefully for something nutritious. What I found was a cold turkey sandwich that I could get with mustard instead of mayo. It came with a side salad. I ordered ranch on the side and only used about a quarter of it. I ate slow and was actually full when I was done. I am the healthiest man on earth! Well no, but I am the healthiest man living in this apartment.

Now, the bad: Saturday I had the first real fuck up of this project. Looking back on it, I never had a chance. I covered a high school wrestling tournament in the afternoon. Going in, I had the knowledge that there would be a hospitality room set up for media, coaches and refs. They usually have some damn good chili in the hospitality room, and I kind of wanted some of that.

I thought it was a good opportunity to test myself. I wanted to see if I could eat sensibly, having about half a bowl of chili before walking out. The plan was diverted as soon as I walked in and saw biscuits and gravy. The school�s assistant principal mentioned that his mother had made both the biscuits and the gravy with her bare hands. Still, I had a fighting shot at that point. That is, until I looked at the gravy and saw massive chunks of pork sausage floating in there. That made me want to tie my hands behind my back and bob for sausage. I wouldn�t have even cared if I burned my face.

Ok, I thought, I can do this. I can have one biscuit with a little bit of gravy and just walk away. I�ll be satisfied and relatively healthy at the same time. Well, once I started eating I was like kitten fighting a pit bull in a studio apartment. I had no chance to win. So I tapped out as quickly as possible and headed for a second helping, then a third. Then, I think, a fourth. I was pretty drunk on sausage gravy by then.

It was DELICIOUS. It was the greatest thing I�ve had in years. The gravy was absolutely out of this world.

Despite the heavenly qualities of the gravy, I learned that I can�t trust myself yet. I can�t put myself in a situation where large quantities of food are available to me at a reduced price (in this case, free). I was encouraged by the fact that I was back on the wagon Sunday, but now I know that I can�t fully control myself. I think that eventually things like biscuits and gravy will repulse me and I will walk away. But until then, I have to learn that you don�t look at the gravy.

Sunday, during commercials in the Colts-Steelers game, I watched two shows of pure disgusting fatness on Discovery Health. The first was about morbidly obese people living in a weight-loss clinic. The second was about a guy from Nebraska who peaked at 1,072 pounds before heading to the hospital only weeks before he would have certainly died of congestive heart failure which, I think, means he would have drowned in the fluids gathering around his heart. But of course, I don�t know shit about shit so I can�t say that for sure.

I had heard of the 1,072 pound guy before because Rick Reilly wrote a Sports Illustrated column about him wanting to go to a Nebraska football game if he could cut some weight. (I already didn�t like him. Nebraska is the most evil football program west of Columbus, Ohio). So I knew the story. He was bedridden and cut out of his home so paramedics could get him out. He lost 600 pounds and was still barely walking. I took solace in the fact that if I lost 600 pounds I would weight -240.

Watching these shows made me feel like a beauty queen. But three moments stood out to me. First, in the weight-loss clinic show, the doctors described how they teach patients the basic theory of weight loss: you must burn more calories than you ingest. I have been saying that since this began. It doesn�t matter what you eat. What matters is how many calories you take in. I choose to use vegetables and white meat because a) you can have bigger portions of those and b) I can�t be trusted to stop eating pizza after one slice.

Second, the old photos of Mr. 1,072 when he was, like, seven really looked a lot like mine. It dawned on me that I can end up like him if I�m not careful. Before this project my appetite kept getting larger and larger and I was eating pure crap every day. I was taking almost an addiction-like pleasure in eating as much as I could. That is when I realized how important this 100 days actually is. I can either continue playing craps with my life and risk ending up bedridden by the time I am 40, or I can man up and stop eating shit and live life like a normal person. I have made my choice.

The third thing that stood out to me was after Mr. 1,072 came home to try and maintain his diet on his own. The host was interviewing his wife while she made him a breakfast of what looked like three over-easy eggs. The host asked if he was on any special diet. Mrs. 1,072 said no, he wasn�t, it was more about counting calories than anything else.

So, the host asked, how many calories are in that breakfast. �I have no idea�, said Mrs. 1,072. It may have been a hilarious moment, but it also illustrates the fact that a concept as simple as common sense is so hard for people to grasp. I hope that if I ever weigh 1,072 pounds, the people close to me will at least try to monitor what I am eating. I mean, is that so fucking much to ask?

Anyway, sorry I ran long. Quick teaser: Sometime this week, maybe tomorrow, I am going to answer some of the comments I have gotten regarding this project.

Posted by Dan Nied at January 16, 2006 2:04 AM

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