How it all started

This is me 2 years ago

And this is me today

This blog is about my journey to loose weight and the story of how I became a bicycle freak.
I decided to write this blog so I won't forget where I was just a few years back, hoping that this will help me through the tough days.

When I was 18 years old, just before beginning my army service I weighed 77Kg which are about 169 pounds. I think that was the last time I stepped on a scale until two years ago, at the age of 34, when I went to see my doctor for a check up. Needless to say neither me nor my doctor were thrilled to see the numbers. 

I don't remember how I got to be the 265 pounds guy in that picture up there. I guess I never really paid attention to my weight.  I mean, I knew I was fat (kinda was hard to miss), and off course I wished I was thinner but I did not let any thoughts about my weight interfere with my daily life too much. I was carrying the extra weight for years, occasionally unsuccessfully trying this diet or the other but never truly invested my self in any of the attempts. Slowly but surely I got used to being a fat guy.

So... how did it all start?

I guess there was something inside me that told me that it was time for a change.  There was nothing mystical or exciting about that. Just a small nagging voice (no, it was not the wife) that started quietly and slowly became louder and louder. When I look at my pictures from back then, I am amazed that up until two years ago, I did not do anything serious about my weight. Didn't I realize how fat I was? didn't the people around me notice?  Maybe we all noticed, only chose not to do anything about it.

It's not that I did nothing. As I said, I did try a few diets here and there and even found my self going to the Gym once in a while, loosing few pounds (i believe). However, immediately I had to compensate myself for my tremendous efforts by eating a nice subway sandwich or 4 pizza slices. I pretty much ate everything I could, any time I could.  Luckily, most of my nutrition was relatively healthy (if you overlook the 4 sliced of pizza ;-)) , so my blood works were fine, but still... 265 pounds...not a very healthy weight for a young man.

So let's go back to two years ago, when my journey began.  One day my wife and I received a mail offer from the 24 fitness club, the gym my wife used to train in.  It was a "Special spouse discount",  only $15 a month. Being the cheap guy that I was, I immediately told my lovely wife "That's a very good deal. we cannot miss that opportunity". A day later we signed up. After all, good deals are hard to pass on.

Few days later my new membership card arrived.  As happy and excited as I was, the membership card somehow found its way to the nearest drawer. Deep inside. I tried hard to avoid it, knowing that every time I would look at the card it will remind me that it was not such a great deal any more if I wasn't actually going to the gym.
A couple of months passed with my card laying safely in my drawer.  One day, while we were eating lunch with friends, one of them, who just got her personal trainer diploma asked me... "So... Oded, when will we see you at the Gym?" I mumbled something lame like "I've been busy... maybe next week", off course without having any real intention to go anywhere that was not the nearest Sushi place.
After a few weeks there we were again with the same friends and that same stubborn friend asked me the question again... hmmmm, now what could I do? I was too tiered to come up with a reliable excuse. She knew I signed up, she used to go to the same gym every day, how could I get myself out of it?!   I thought that if I would throw the ball back into her court she would back down. "If I come, will you have time to show me what to do?" I asked, feeling like I was saved. But no! The friend smiled a viciously motivated smile and said: "off course, I would love to". I was doomed!

The next day, 9 am we were both at the gym, the same place I tried so hard to avoid.
Stepping on the treadmill I asked my friend: "now what do I do?" The wise friend said in reply: "go very slow, don't kill your self.  Run for 1 or 2 minutes, then walk 5 minutes, and again, run for few minutes, then walk. The next time you come, try to run a little bit longer"
So i started. I remember looking at all the people around me.  I was very impressed of how they could run for so long, and so fast... kind of admired them I have to say. One women who I noticed, was running for a complete hour... how could she do that?

Running for only 2 minutes wasn't easy at all. I set a 4.5 mph speed on the treadmill and it started moving , after 10 minutes of running and walking like that, I was sure I was going to die, or at least faint. Not only I was about to remain fat, I was going to be remembered as the fat guy who fainted at the gym.  Finally the 15 minutes I decided to dedicate for that torture were over and my friend (who kept running in an incredible pace next to me hoping to encourage me) stepped off and walked me to the another torture devices that was designed to work on my fats and magically turn them into muscles.
She showed me around, told me what I should have and should have not done. Once again, her keywords were... don't kill yourself, don't push too hard, its better to lift lighter weight more times... so I did. and I did not die. I did not even faint. could you believe it?

I left the gym that day very proud of my self, thinking I could sign up for a marathon, filled with motivation to come again the following day.
Well, I did not run a marathon yet, but that gym soon has become my second home, where I spent many of sweaty hours trying to get into shape. It started as a love-hate relationship with a lot of self pity going on but ended up to be a rewarding love story as the pounds started to drop.