My name is Gregory Wood, I'm 35 years old, 5'10', and I weigh over 230 pounds. I haven't always been this big; when I got my driver's license at 16 years old, I weighed approximately 127 pounds. That's a picture of me in my senior year of high school at Space Camp. Fashion sense aside, I can't get over how skinny I was.
I was so skinny that I actually tried to gain weight. Sodas, pizza, fast food... none of it seemed to affect me so I gobbled it up without a care. Growing up with a single mother, convenience was the most important factor in food selection, followed closely by comfort. Nutrition, balance and sane portion sizes were never on my radar.
Exercise wasn't much better. I did run track and cross country thanks to my stepfather, but I skipped so many practices that I never did get in shape for any of our meets. Sure I ran 3 miles, but it was a struggle to get to the finish line, much less compete.
When high school ended and college rolled around I began to slowly pack on the pounds. My metabolism had slowed, I'd become even more sedentary, and I went through several episodes of depression that did nothing for my diet. I'm not sure at what age I passed my ideal weight, but I do remember one day being amused that I'd actually developed a bit of a gut.
By the time I got married in August of 1999, I'd gotten over 200 pounds. Actually, I'd lost 5-10 pounds for that happy day and I felt pretty good about myself. I wasn't happy with the direction my weight was going but I still felt it was pretty much in control.
The next decade would prove me wrong of course. I started drinking diet soda, a step that I swore I would never take. I began to pick what I thought were healthier foods; if a package says "Reduced fat", that's healthy right? And yet the weight kept piling on. I remember peaking at 220. And then 230.
I counted my calories, several times with moderate success. It was a ton of work and although I'd lose a few pounds eventually it got to be too much and I'd quit. Working out was where I really put my energy though, after all it felt good to be doing something, that meant you were going to lose weight!
But my life always had other priorities. School, work, my relationship, my house, computer games, a motorcycle. Exercise was a chore I had to squeeze in when I had time, and I never had time. And I'm not the type of person who puts myself over everyone else in my life. Focusing on my weight was selfish when I had so many things that I needed to help others with.
I had the best luck with a boot camp: a month long exercise program coupled with a fairly strict diet. The workouts were tough as hell; the first day I very nearly vomited and I'm not exaggerating when I say it took me probably close to half an hour to build up the strength to make it to the car and then home. But I stuck with it, exercising every day for 30-40 minutes with a group, keeping a food diary, and drinking a ton of water.
Boot camp worked great. In just a month I lost more than 10 pounds. Not only that, but it was all fat. Heck, I probably lost 15 pounds of fat and put on several pounds of muscle. I looked great, I got a ton of compliments and I felt so much better about myself. And when the month was over, well, I'd crossed the finish line. Although I had every intention of continuing my new healthy way of living, I earned a break.
That break became an extended break and eventually a complete capitulation. I found excuse after excuse to put off a return to diet and exercise. Not enough time. Gotta finish up that project. I'm a bit tired today. I can always start again tomorrow. Months and months past and any plans were shelved indefinitely.
Late last year, I attended a ceremony with my sweetheart. I posed for a picture with her outside the event. That's cropped version of my giant potato head is from that picture. I felt good about myself that day: I was all dressed up. Sure I had to squeeze into my pants, but I was all cleaned up, sporting a new tie, and so proud of the woman I share my life with. When I saw the picture later I was shocked. My temporarily inflated self-esteem took a nose dive as I realized how bloated and fat I looked.
I'd like to say that I decided to change my life that day but I didn't. I felt so angry at myself. How did I let myself get to that point? Can I ever hope to recover from that? Maybe I should just accept that this is who I am from now on. Deep down inside I still wanted to change, to start watching what I ate and making myself work out, but I just couldn't tap into that desire.
Then, just after New Years 2010, I happened to stumble across this video:
That man is John Stone. Back in 2003, he was in roughly the same position I am in now. Depressed, out of shape, unhappy, and stunned at what he saw in the mirror. He started to educate himself, forced himself to eat better and started to work out intensely. He took daily snapshots of himself and posted them along with his weight, measurements, activity logs and meals on a website. I highly recommend you take a look at his website as it's become not only an inspiration for me, but a resource in my own fitness plan.
There's a lot of reasons I've failed to lose weight or stay in shape. Ultimately though, it comes down to priorities. I never put my health and appearance anywhere near the top of my list of things to worry about. If it's not a priority, it's too easy to make excuses and put it off indefinitely.
It's my hope that by creating this website I will hold myself accountable to an audience of my friends, family, peers and strangers alike. I intend to post the details about my journey, and what I learn along the way. If I can accomplish my goals, I hope to reach out and help others who are in the same position I'm in today. Thank for you being a part of this and helping me to push myself.
