How I Learned to Start Listening to and Loving My Body

     My journey with physical fitness has been an up and down roller coaster that has spanned the last 15 years, beginning all the way back in middle school. It has been full of personal heartbreak, triumph, and a surprising amount of negativity. You see, I am a man who has suffered from distorted body image for most of his life.

     When I was in first grade, I told my mom and dad that I wanted to join the youth wrestling program in our school district. They were nervous at first, but eventually allowed me to join. At the time, I looked like a pretty average first grader; fairly skinny and energetic. Flip the calendar one year forward, and young me has discovered that he's pretty good at eating. Really good at eating. At this time, I was 7 or 8 and found out, through great personal research, that I could eat a Big Mac extra value meal or an entire frozen pizza by myself, in one sitting. At the time I was proud of myself, "See Mom! I can eat like an grown-up!"

     Foolish.

     Thus begins my journey into what was most likely "undiagnosed" childhood obesity. I ate what I wanted when I wanted. Thanks to an overindulgent family member who watched me after school, I essentially ate two dinners every night through the week. The pounds stacked up like the lego's I liked to play with. I was involved in some kind of activity pretty frequently; in the spring and summer I played baseball and in the winter I wrestled--I thought I was just a "growing boy". I was growing, alright, but mostly around my waistline instead of in height.

     This all begins to change during my 6th grade wrestling season. All of the sudden, I realize that I am "strong", which as a overweight middle-schooler means that I am able to throw my weight around onto the other kids. I was lucky enough to have a brother and coach who both wanted to push me harder because I could actually be good at this. At the beginning of that wrestling season I weighed 175 pounds. 175 pounds as a 6th grader...I was maybe 11 or 12 years old. I was ROUND. I decided to take my wrestling more seriously because my older brother was having some success in his wrestling career as a high-schooler.

     All of the sudden, pounds start falling off. Between 6th and 7th grade I dropped all the way to 130 pounds-- for a total loss of 45 pounds. I had never experienced this kind of personal physical success. Obviously as an overweight child, physical success in gym class or on the field was rare. I became a better wrestler, focused on what I was eating (which was very little; I found out later as an adult that my teachers wrote home to my mother asking her if I was starving myself or developing an eating disorder), and became happy, for the most part, with how my body looked. But I still wasn't completely happy. All the sudden you could see my ribs, but I was mad about how my thighs looked flabby--as a kid in middle school. Looking back on it, I see how absorbed I was into my own body.

     So, I have some middling success as a middle school wrestler, which included a conference title via forfeit, and I move on into high school. I start to realize, during my freshmen year, that maybe I like baseball more than wrestling. Being an hour away from a the Cincinnati Reds, I have grand visions of playing college and professional baseball. What I thought was a medical condition (turns out it was a muscle spasm) becomes a good excuse to quit wrestling and take up baseball full time. At this time, I've hit a growth spurt and put back on some weight from middle school, so I'm about 5'10" and 185 pounds. All of the sudden, my weight starts to fluctuate. In high school, my weight drifts from the 180s to the 190s and I'm not really taking care of myself.

Senior year

     This continues on to through college until my senior year when I pack on about 25 pounds, ballooning my weight to 215+. I was busy, working 40 hours a week, student teaching 10-15 hours a week, and taking a full time college course load. I didn't feel like I had the time to exercise or to even make decent choices about my diet. Even if I packed healthy meals for myself, I would be going through the Taco Bell drive thru at 10:00 p.m. after my last class got out. I was starting a downward spiral.

     If you have seen my previous blog posts, you'll know that my weight stayed consistently above 210 until just recently when some diet and exercise changes allowed me to drop about 25 pounds. I'm finally *starting* to get comfortable with myself. I know this is a process, not a destination. Some days, I'm going to eat chips and queso and tacos and avoid stepping on the scale. Other days I know I'll make all of the right choices and be able to step on the scale and see the result.

     It's about more than a number on a scale; it's about the feeling. It's about feeling better. It's about knowing that fitness and life are a journey, not just a destination. I'm choosing now to enjoy and embrace the process, not dread it. It starts with a single step, with a simple motion in the right direction. Add up enough of these small steps and the results can follow. Because of this system, I've learned to be comfortable with my body-the feelings, the aches and pains, and the success and failures.

     I'm loving my body, even if that means not being in love with where I am in this moment. I love all of the crazy things my body can and will do. I'm amazed by how this body can run for more than 10 minutes at a time now, when before 10 minutes felt like 10 days. I'm in love with the subtle intricacies that God has put into this body that allows me the freedom to move and the will power to move it more often than not. It's not a perfect body; my knees hurt, I baby my right foot, and my back is capable of going out at random times and lock me up for 3 weeks. But I love this body; I hope you can learn to love yours.

Best,