Will Run for Food ...

Those dark moments of life (death, divorce, destruction, disease, decomposition, etc.) often create just the right batch of ingredients for a rebirth. It's a bit like that whole Phoenix thing. We can't be reborn until we've been burnt to a charcoal-covered crisp.



See, midway through second semester of my first year of law school (a time of life universally recognized as a trip through physical and mental hell ... even if you enjoyed yourself most of the time) I looked down one day to discover that I had slowly devolved into a 285 pound mass of jelly-filled humanity. This was bad ... high cholesterol & blood pressure just added to what I now refer to as the MOST ABYSMAL PHYSICAL CONDITION OF MY LIFE.

After commiserating with some of my fellow chubbed-out first years, I decided to begin an activity that would significantly change my life: Running. Throughout my high school and undergrad years, I had avoided this most polarizing of activities like it was the smelly guy in science class. See, I related with the Morgan High Cross-Country club motto: "What most call hell, we call home." I was firmly on the "hell" side of that dichotomy.

Nevertheless, I disregarded my prior bias and began on a program aimed to get me from couch potato to half-Kenyan marathoner in sixteen weeks. Those first several weeks of running, I felt (and probably looked) like this:



But despite the back aches, the leg aches, the head aches, and the generally feeling that if I went one more step I would probably keel over along the side of the road, I kept going. And things got better. My lung capacity deepened and my legs, back, and stomach began to support my considerable girth. The highlight of that time of my running life came three months later when I set out on an idle Friday night and ran for an entire hour without stopping. I felt invincible; I felt like superman; I felt like this guy:



Even though I FELT good, however, I didn't actually look much different. Sure, I lost a few pounds (down to 250 at first and later down to 240 when I started training for a half-marathon), but my body still looked like an M&M - a lot of good stuff covered in a thick candy shell. It was only then that I began to realize the other half of my problem: Food.

Most of the seven deadly sins are relatively under control for me. Anger? Not since I beat up that kid in fourth grade (topically enough, for calling me fat) or punched a whole through our living room window screen have I let that emotion really take control. Envy? Well, I do live with Eric Vogeler, so ... yeah. And Lust? Well, I think Henry Higgins put it best when he asked "Have you ever met a man of good moral character where women are concerned?" (OK, after reading what I just wrote, I realize I might need to work on those as well). But the worst of all the game, by far, has always been Gluttony. We're a nation whose main passtime is overeating ... and I've always been proud to be an American.

But the problem with my greedy need for food is that it counteracts the majority of good that can come from a solid and consistent running program. I could run 25 miles a week and, thanks to my habit of mercilessly choking down Twinkies, end up two pounds heavier than I was the week before (this has happened ... how sad is that?).

So I'm going to cut down. Seriously ... this time it's going to happen. This life is all about learning to control our finicky, fickle bodies, no? Let that be my goal. My heart is healthy, my legs are strong and, while a flat and chiseled belly may be too much to ask for, hopefully cutting out the junk will help me move closer to that optimum 220.