The how and the why...

A bit difficult writing this up as I really can't point to any one event or any set of circumstances that got me being the shameful weight of 22st 4Ibs.

But here goes...

10 years ago I was still pedalling, I had a circle of ex Army mates who would regularly stop by and join in. I'm fortunate enough to live quite literally on the edge of the Worcestershire countryside and if I turn right out of my Crescent then I'm straight into a lane. But I'm digressing, which I'm guessing I'll be doing a lot of.

So, what made me stop? Do you know, I really haven't got a clue, it just seemed to happen. Was it my daughter who was taking up more time? Did I start concentrating on other things? I was still playing Rugby back then, but less and less due to injury and age, but whatever the reason I arrived at 2009 being a fat bastard.

In between then and now, I'd done the usual cycle (excuse the pun) of diet/excercise and then increased weight gain. But stupidly I knew all about "changing your lifestyle", "more excercise", "watch what you eat" etc etc but it just wasn't happening. I decided to go to the Docs to see if they could help, but to cut a long story short of inumerable visits, apart from recommending the local Weight Watchers they did nothing. I did try the Weight Watchers but it was full of middle aged women all talking about periods and fatless chips. All respect to those ladies but it wasn't for me.

I knew I was harming myself, my biggest downfall being the sandwich van at work, the take outs, mainly curry and beer. But I wouldn't or couldn't stop. I still don't know why. I'm not the sharpest tool in the box, but then again I'm not a thicko so why would a reasonably intelligent bloke carry on for all those years quite literally eating and lethargically putting himself into an early grave. I guess the person who can work that one out will make quite a bit of money. That's the key, why?

Anyway early this year I had to see the Doc for a medical to keep my HGV licence current. It's always a good fall back if the job should go tits up so I do keep it going. During the medical the Doc discovered that my blood pressure was dangerously high and immediately prescribed Perindropol which I had to take every day so I wouldn't explode. Permanent medication because I'm fat. Added to the list goes sleep apnea, bad snoring, lack of energy, tiredness, aching joints etc etc. I had to do something but again for reasons I cannot fathom I did nothing. Oh, I always talked a good diet/change to the Missus and the Doc, but I knew nothing would happen. Then in March this year I discovered purely by chance Frank's Blog and again for reasons I cannot fathom it "flicked a switch" in me. I always loved cycling and here was a bloke roughly my age, weight and in the same condition health wise who had seemed to grab hold of his life and kick on from there.

It was decided then, March the 23th would be my first day back as a cyclist...

Then, Sunday March the 22nd happened.

I'm a Rugby Coach, rugby being my first love. (Union for all you Northern Monkeys out there). On Sunday March the 22nd I was taking a scrummaging session with our U17s and without getting all boring and rugby technical, they weren't quite doing it right, so I jumped in at Hooker (Cue all the jokes) my old position and proceeded to demo exactly what they needed to be doing. We set, hit the scrummaging machine really well, then I called a drive. Snap...Snap...Both Achilles tendons let go one after the other. A fat broken 45 year old should not hit a scrummaging machine without warming up.The lads playing second row heard them both go, I was absolutely frozen where I was, the pain was like no other, I couldn't move, I was stuck leaning against the machine. The only positive was, the fact that both tendons let go meant I was scrummaging straight. Sorry, nearly descended into rugby technicalities there.

So to cut a long and very painful story short, after 3 months in plaster I finally started the first day of the rest of my life.

I am under absolutely no illusions that I would not have started this getting my life back thing if I hadn't read Frank's Blog, which lead onto James' and then the now defunct and much missed Gaz's blog. Not forgetting the Jobymeister either!

Obesity is a laugh, look at fatty, check out those moobs, get a move on lard arse! I've had them all shouted at me and still am getting it. I haven't taken my shirt off in public in years, I love swimming, I haven't done that in years, too ashamed of my tits. Baggy clothes are the order of the day, just to cover them up. It'll be a long road back before my self esteem is strong enough to go swimming, but at least I know now I will be going swimming again at some point. There will be low points along the way of that I'm certain and now prepared for. But there will be terrific highs, my first off road pedal last Saturday just being one of many I'm sure. But what a waste of 10 years, it would be very easy to go down the self pity route and reach for the take out menu, go round to the Offy and pick up a few Ales and settle in for the evening, just like I used to. But that won't be happening. That's a promise, not just to you my Gentle Readers, but much more importantly to myself.

Well that's it, as much as my limited vocabulary and prose will allow. I haven't discovered any answers, just tried to recount my story without getting too self absorbed. Reading it back the big thing for me is I still haven't answered "The why" part of the situation I'm in. I'm really struggling with that one. Also why a blog should move me to change my life when bugger all else did. Two questions that I want answers to. Maybe I'll find them further down the road. Or maybe you know the answers and can tell me!