Pride must come

There comes a point in time in this process or journey of mine, I would gather, that a certain sense of pride would come in to play. Weight loss, one might argue, impressive... 125 pounds lost and kept off for five (5) years. Three (3) marathons completed with two (2) more scheduled over the next couple of months, many other races done, improvements made...

Still as I sit here, I find it difficult if not impossible to be proud of what I have accomplished. Had anyone else done what I have, it is with great confidence I can say I would hold nothing but the utmost respect for him or her.

The root (or in reality root-s, plural) of this issue stem from two separate yet likely inextricably linked issues.

It has never failed that as soon as I accomplish something great, my attention immediately turns to "what wasn't". Whether it be the desire for a faster race time, a bigger loss on the scale, whatever the case may be, the unnerving and unsettling itch to shy away from the positives in an effort to unearth the negative is, in my lay person's view, likely a deep seeded study in psychiatric turmoil. Surely, there is medication for that.

Generally I am not of the belief in instantaneous reward for my efforts. I do not fall into the reality TV show line of thinking. I neither ballooned to 355 pounds, nor learned to run a marathon overnight. Surely, all of the other obviously far more positive changes in my life would not take hold and manifest themselves in a nanosecond. At times, I feel I would welcome that. Then, in a fleeting moment or less, I quickly realize that results without effort, a journey without a path, offers little in the way of true reward.

While this may make my journey far more challenging and filled with detours, delays and other frustrating encounters, there is perhaps no other way I would want this to be.

The other obstacle, perhaps far more fatal in nature, is the unwillingness of my soul to accept that things are different. There are times when I, still, see myself as a morbidly obese man, struggling to survive all the while wishing life would no longer continue. It was that difficult to live. Worse, I would argue that what I was doing was anything but living. In the end and without much effort at all, I was mounting my own assault on my very being in an attempt to no longer be. There was no effort to play a lead role in my own life, rather I would take satisfaction from others "doing".

At some random points during rather nondescript runs, I am forced to remind myself how amazing it is that I am able to run. Something so simple. Seven years ago, this was a pipe dream of epic proportions. Now, slow as I may be, I am the doer.

Losing sight of myself is still easy, although these days in a different way than before. At least now, I am playing the lead and directing and producing. Still not thrilled with where things are today, I am saddled with both a blessing and a curse. I am better and yet still want to be so much better. I am a winner and still cannot win.

I am learning... just not fast enough to unlearn what I already know and perhaps never knew.

Time to go to confession

Every now and again, I must admit, I still feel like a little bit of an outsider looking in. Admittedly, thanks to the gift that has been and continues to be running, I have been able to take a much more active role in my own existence. It's funny that even after having dropped 125 pounds and keeping it off for about 7 years, regardless of the marathons, training groups, whatever have you, I still see "fraud" in the mirror, almost daily. My Type A, all-or-nothing personality almost mandates this to be the case. I am sick of that person in the mirror, the likes of which is it nearly paralyzingly painful to assemble into a coherent sentence.

By the time 2010 comes to an end, I will have run about 500 miles more than in 2009 - an incredible accomplishment. Still, I am greatly disappointed in myself. The most important goal for 2010, in my eyes, was to get my weight down to the level I wanted - about 200 pounds. Never in my adult life have I seen that number on the scale, unless someone else was being weighed.

It is ridiculous, I understand, to consider this entire journey a failure given all things accomplished, amazing people met and experiences had. Too, there are so many more miles to be run, races to be finished, memories to be made.

With all of the successes over the past few years, it amazes me equally how easy it is to toss my soul - my very being, if you will, under some mythical bus that exists, at least from what others tell me, in my own mind. How unfortunate.

Never let it be said that I desire to be "that person" who enjoys beating up on himself. In the same breath, it almost appears that may be the case. Reaching some perhaps arbitrary weight goal may [or may not] lead to a certain sense of relief, complete with a release of this omnipresent tension that seems to virtually suffocate me at times. Hardly exaggerating, it is difficult if not impossible to make it minutes without considering nutrition choices past, present and future.

I am not sure what to make of all of this other than to say I will continue to work to be better, hoping to find "it", whatever that may be... that perhaps singular notion, feeling or thing that can help me dial in to my journey just a little bit more.

Again, I say... This is who I am today. I could be better. I could be worse. However I will always work to better than the day before.