Recommitting.

On July 31st, I weighed 355.4 pounds. This morning, I weighed 353.4 pounds.

That, in a nutshell, describes my August. It can’t be called bad, because I’ve lost two pounds, and every pound lost is a good thing. But it’s been slow going and wildly erratic. I was 347.8 on August 9th, 356.2 on August 13th, 347.6 on August 18th, and 353.4 this morning. I’m tempted to chalk it up to something beyond my control, but in reality it’s a combination of being lazy and cocky. I lose a few pounds and I tend to start thinking I’ve got this thing figured out. I don’t need to track all my food right away, just eyeball it and add it up later. I don’t need to put my daily weigh-in online, I can wait until after the weekend. I don’t have to exercise today, I have two workouts planned for the rest of the week. That can work when I’m at work all day and my eating is more regimented, but on the weekends it’s a recipe for disaster.

Yesterday was just a free-for-all of bad decisions. It started out okay, with Sarah and I splitting a semi-healthy breakfast burrito and lox plate, along with a beer. Then the unhealthy food just ran train on me. Rice Krispie treats, Ruffles, M&Ms, more beer, chicken wings, and more. At one point, I was mindlessly eating cinnamon gummy bears. What the fuck? I don’t even like cinnamon candy! Somehow I managed to gain weight over the last two days faster than I gained it at Mancave.

So today it’s legitimately back to it. I’m tracking every single thing that I eat. I’m going running tonight, and I’m not going to half-ass it like I have all month. I have 19 weeks until the end of the year, and I’m 23.4 pounds away from the weight on my driver’s license, 33.8 away from being out of the highest obesity range, and 53.6 to go until I’m under 300 pounds for the first time in at least ten years. While there are no guarantees, I see no reason that I can’t shoot for the first two. If I actually stick with proper nutrition and exercise (especially if I join the gym finally), there’s no reason I can’t lose two pounds a week.

Anyway, the past is over, and all I can change is what I do going forward. I need to fire up the grill, strap on my filthy running shoes (damn you Pineapple Classic!) and get back to it.