I have been confused for a lot of things - a poor man's Baldwin brother, amongst them - but nobody has ever, EVER confused me with someone who likes to work out or enjoys being healthy. I do not, as they say, count calories. I enjoy wings and beer and, given the opportunity, I would eat 2 sausage egg mcmuffins each day for breakfast. I have been fortunate. Genetics, until this point, have kept me looking trim(ish) and I run - so, that has helped keep me healthy.
Naturally, in May - exactly 6 years from the last time I laced up the shoes - I decided to lace up my old soccer boots and play a recreational game of soccer with some friends while H was out of town. It took me longer to find those shoes in the closet than it did to get hurt playing. Within approximately 10 minutes of entering the fray, I had heard my knee snap, crackle and pop twice. I will blame the field turf - but I know its just me being out of shape.
This has kind of hurt the running program I was on. Besides 2 months of rehab, I kind of hate running now - its too cold. My knee hurts and if I hit a funny patch of sidewalk (common where we live because the City doesn't care about our neighborhood), its back to the doctor. Which, despite my fancy insurance, I am prone to want to avoid altogether.
Now that I am engaged, I have started the prolonged and completely necessary (yet dreaded) wedding diet. 9 months in advance (actually 10 months - I started in December, right before Christmas). To make matters more interesting - we joined a gym. This way, I get to look like I am insane on a precor machine and break the record for amount of sweat emanating from my forearms and fastest time to target heart rate.
I have always thought that wedding diets were funny in a sort of ridiculous way. When my engaged friends would house a couple of stouffers french bread pizzas, I would always ask whether it was part of their wedding diet. More often than not, the honeymoon would offset any progress made during the dieting period (normally 2 months of work preceding the wedding). Why, then, would I subject myself to the same ridicule? What is the end game here?
The answer is simple, really. I am as narcisstic as they come. I want to look good in that wedding suit. If I decide to take my shirt off on our honeymoon, I don't want to confirm what the Euros already think about Americans. I want to be skinny again. Not high school skinny - 6'2" - 160 Lbs. - but something between that and now. The wedding has given me a perfect opportunity to concentrate on this - all in the name of the wedding. This way, I am a hero. But, after 3 weeks, I have kind of decided that the wedding is just the launching off point, and, the way I reckon, its a much better reason to get and stay healthy than a cop-out New year's resolution (that piece of advice was courtesy of two meatheads while we all took a steam last night)(by the way - the gym is straight-up effing packed right now!).
Will I keep the good habits I am cultivating as part of this diet plan - which really boils down to eating better, exercising 4-5 times a week and actually spending some time in the gym? I plan to. Not just for the wedding, but for H and I's life as well - a heart attack at 50 would be kind of unfair to her.