As a further testament to my insanity I am now in week number seven of my journey to fitness. Several days a week I hit the gym and ride my preferred instrument of torture, the recumbent cycle. So, as I was saying, this morning as I was pedaling away I noticed that there was sweat dripping from my forehead. As the sweat made its way down my forehead I smiled because I knew that the presence of sweat during a workout meant that I was burning fat. Looking toward heaven, I prayed, asking God to protect the people around me and to let my fat burning be more of a slow, controlled burn. As a fat man, I knew that if all of my fat caught fire at once it would produce a mushroom cloud making the Chicago fire of 1871 look like a back yard barbecue.
In addition to my exercise regimen, I have enlisted the help of a Wellness Coach who has done a fantastic job at helping me with my dietary choices. Even though she is a miracle worker, she is not without her own instrument of torture. Every week she makes me get on the scale to see how I am progressing. As if my 5:15 a.m. workout wasn't enough today, I also had an appointment with my Wellness Torture Inflictor. At exactly 11:15 a.m., eastern standard time, I stepped onto the scale and learned that my total weight loss over the last seven weeks is now at 21 pounds. All of this torture chamber stuff must be working. As always having been good at math, I realize that 21 from infinity is still infinity but I'll take it.
As I was explaining to Mrs. Planet Kirby, losing 21 pounds is like losing 2 bowling balls. My goal is to lose 8 bowling balls by the end of the year. I'll let you know how it goes.
Be Well.
Bill
