Too easy on yourself nothing changes, too hard and you will snap.
In 1998, I went to see the doctor for a new hire physical exam. I was 298 lbs and I was told I was “pre-diabetic.” The doctor said that if I did not get my weight under control, I would be diagnosed diabetic and begin to suffer all the horrific side effects of the disease.
Surely I could drop a few pounds. I played football all through high school, was a firefighter in the Air Force and worked out constantly. In fact, I had only been out of the military five years and was 190 when I got out. I can do this.
Never mind the facts: I was now closer to 30 than 20. I was working 50-60 hours a week in a high stress sales job. I had been married only four years but already had three kids and one on the way. My lifestyle was not that of a soldier who lived at the fire station with 24/7 access to a free gym and a workout partner anytime I wanted one.
When the company went through a reorganization and I was left without a job, all sorts of depression set in. Months later I took a job driving 75 miles one way to work. I snacked on the road to stay awake. Leaving at 5:30 am and returning home about 8pm five days a week.
Not only was I NOT losing weight because of my horrible eating habits and comfort food choices, I was pounding the nails into my coffin by wrecking my body’s ability to process sugar.
In December 1998 my fourth child was born two weeks before my granddad passed away… from “complications related to diabetes.”
In 2003 I was diagnosed diabetic.
I now maintain an over 40 body weight of about 225 lbs with a goal to reach 190 lbs again this year. I almost manage what I eat, but the sugary snacks still have a hook in me like an iron claw!
I could easily walk away from stacks of money. I would not cross the road for a glass of any sort of adult beverage. Elicit drugs have no appeal to me whatsoever. But place a pecan pie on the table and the Green Bay Packers offensive line could not stop me. It is a habit that I must beat if I want to live long enough to see my kids grow up. A habit I must beat if I want to reach my destiny and see my vision come to pass.
When I win that battle, it is because I envision my kids at my bedside where I stood as I watched both my grandparents slip into eternity and I realize that I am making a choice now… put down the fork and prolong my time with my family, or chow down and hasten the shadow of my days.