Giving Up

On a journey beyond sight and sound - I'm about to enter the Overweight Zone.
Okay. Not "about." There has been a substantial period of self-denial prior to this. And when it comes to denial, who better to deny than yourself? Which is precisely what got me into trouble. All of that rationalization and overthinking that comes with little or not portion control. Do the math. I exercised this morning. I'm going to exercise again tomorrow. I ride my bike to school every day for heaven's sake.
But that's just not how these things work. I have in my genetics a predilection toward being round. I used to make fun of my dad and his seemingly never-ending attempts to trim up the paunch he acquired in his middle age years. There was a small eave under his T-shirt where his gut protruded mildly over his belt. I can remember sitting on his feet while he did sit-ups when I was younger and much later I joined him in his new obsession: running.
For decades now, I have been content to use this running thing as my maintenance and my solace. I have tried to stay ambulatory all this time in hopes that if I kept moving I could stay one step ahead of the hefty specter of heft. This fear is now the answer to the oh-so-clever question I once asked my father, "What are you running from?" In my twenties, this seemed very insightful. When I pose it to my fifty-seven year old self, I know that the clever answer would be "mortality," but I think the more encouraging version would be "what am I running to?"
I am running toward a better version of myself. Not necessarily my youth, but it would be nice to feel like I was not simply running in place. Treadmills are abhorrent to me. Running to stand still, as the Irish poet once said.
But it still takes more than working up a sweat to keep up with the metabolic changes that come with being fifty-something. I can no longer process pounds of Peanut M&Ms in the manner my twenty-something system used to. I have made a lot of noise here and anywhere people might hear me about how I deserve my vices since I have sacrificed so very many over the course of the past three decades. Drinking and drugs were an easy choice, and they made me feel noble and since I ended up getting married and starting a family as a somewhat direct result, that was not taken lightly. I still pine for the occasional Coca-Cola, though my kidneys are grateful that I went cold turkey after passing a few stones.
On the flip side, creating a new habit has always come pretty easy for me. The running thing. Taking vitamins and supplements that help stave off the inevitable pains and deficiencies brought to us all by passing years. Actively applying this capacity to my diet seems like a foregone conclusion, but all that denial mentioned previously tends to well up for me at this point.
I read a pithy little Tweet a couple weeks ago that suggested, "You can't spell 'isolate' without 'I ate.'" Which was amusing enough at the time, but as my bathroom scale and shape have begun to reflect this trend, I felt compelled to make a change.
I threw out a half bag of Peanut M&Ms. I decided to give them up in exchange for a few less pounds and maybe a few more years. It is where I find myself currently. So why am I telling you this? Maybe because if I say it here, it will become manifest. Maybe because confession may be as good for blood pressure as it is for the soul. Or perhaps I am passing this along because I want to share this with anyone who has wrestled with change. There's a bit of that going around these days.
If you're thinking about making a sacrifice or a supplement, now just might be the time to do it. While nobody's watching.