Personal Inventory - What the hell happened over the last 7 years?
I have been contemplating it ever since I first became aware it was going on, and I am going to share a few insights into what I think happened. I am not sure even now that I completely understand why it happened, but maybe my putting it down into my Tumblr blog will allow me to see it in perspective.
What I'm talking about is this: I started a health, fitness and weight loss journey back in the summer of 2013. No formal diet, just get in some good exercise and eat healthy foods, lay off the fast food and carbonated drinks, make it a lifestyle change instead of a diet or a quick fix. For four years it worked: I went from a weight of 290 (almost certainly more than that before I started weighing myself weekly) to weight in the neighborhood of 215-225 lbs. I got fit enough to take bicycle trips to small towns 20-25 miles distant. In the scheme of things I added running to my journey and completed a number of sanctioned 10K's. 2017 started out as a banner year for my continued progress. And the, midway through the year, it turned downhill. My weight went up into the 220's then the 230's and then the 240's in the space of just four months. I still rode my bike and ran regularly, but all the progress I'd made with my weight loss just kept reversing itself. I found myself giving the whine of so many people in weight loss programs, "But I'm doing the same thing I've been doing for months [in my case,years], how come all of a sudden it's not working anymore???"
I had been through so much in those four years. I was enrolled in my local YMCA in 2014, and when I reported that I'd lost 45 lbs in the course of the year they did a blurb about me for their online newsletter, "Another Y Success Story". In the summer of 2015 I rode my bike to the small town of Clearwater, KS, some 17 miles from Wichita (a feat that my granddaughter Savannah was quite proud to tell her friends about). Just before Christmas of 2015 a car ran into my left leg in the Walmart parking lot; I had to take time off to heal but then got right back into the journey. Three months later a lowlife jerk ran over my left leg while getting away after robbing me of my change purse (with all of $6 in it). Again, some time to heal and then I was back in the swing of things. I rode my bikes hard and long, and rode them until they fell apart or were trashed. My response was to go buy another bike and get right back onto the road.
So what could have happened in mid 2017 that would make me lose all that progress and then eventaully put the whole journey on hiatus?
I am pretty sure this is at least part of it.
On June 2, 2017, near the end of a bike ride, my mother called me to tell me my father had died. This was the day before I had planned to run the 10K River Run, an official part of the Wichita River Festival, and (ironically) the day before what would have been Mom and Dad's 65th wedding anniversary. Dad had been in failing health, so the fact that he would die soon should not have been a surprise, but the news was still a shock to me. I told the desk clerk on duty at the hotel I manage; she was pretty good friends with my son Travis and called to tell him, and he suggested to his son Jordon that maybe Grandpa needed someone to be with tonight. So that evening Jordon joined me at the hotel and we were together that night and in the morning.
I have detailed the 2017 River Run on this blog and also on my Facebook page, and I will come clean about something here that I did not say on either site: I was wracked with guilt over the whole thing. I wrote about how Dad was very much a family man (which he was) and how I was honoring his memory by taking part in the River Run and River Festival with my grandson. The truth was, I was trying to cover up my feelings of, "My Dad is dead and my Mom just lost her husband of 65 years and I'm galavanting through downtown Wichita with my grandson playing Soccer Ball Billiards and chowing down on overpriced pizza and lemonade." I had been a notorious no-show at family get-togethers and holidays; part of that was I was so busy at the hotel that I didn't take time off for anything, but another part was Wichita is pretty near 1000 miles away from Knoxville by the preferred roads of travel and I was too broke (or too cheap) to afford the air fare or even the bus fare.
The next weekend I went to Knoxville to join my brother David and his two adult sons to visit Mom; it was the first time any of them had seen me in person since my sister Carol's wedding in 1993, and in fact David's sons were 2 and 4 years old then. A running gag was that every hour or so my phone would ring, I would look at the caller ID and roll my eyes and everyone else would laugh. The people at the hotel were blowing up my phne because it was the first time in over a decade I wasn't there to put out the fires and answer questions: "Steve, where do we keep the light bulbs for those new lamps James bought?" "Steve, this guy has a reservation for two nights but he only wants to stay one night. What do I do?" (The laughs were a lot quieter when I got a call from an irate guest at 1:30 in the morning.)
I discussed my feelings of guilt with my sister Carol later on. She confessed that, the weekend I got together with Mom she was scheduled to take her recent high school graduate daughter Rachel to Colorado to apply at the Air Force Academy (not the sort of thing you can bail on or reschedule) and she was wracked with guilt that she didn't join us to visit Mom in her time of mourning.
Anyway… In 2006 I responded to my 27-year-old daughter's death by throwing myself into my work. I was salaried then and so I worked ridiculous long hours, at least once working over 1/2 the total hours in the two-week work cycle. I was running on fumes and fighting off exhaustion. So in 2017, in response to my father's death, I made the (I see now) stupid decision to just go on with my life like nothing had happened… "life goes on" and all that.
I made the mistake of not dealing with my father's death. The problem was, I had no idea how the hell to deal with his death. What was I to do? Sit down and talk with a friend or counselor about my feelings, maybe regularly over time? Go to a rock quarry with a sledgehammer and smash a lot of rocks? I suspect (it didin't seem this way at the time but I am very good at deceiving myself) that I self-medicated with food a lot more than I realized. Remember that "whine" I mentioned at the end of the second paragraph of this post? Truth was I was slipping back into my old habits of eating at fast food places and hydrating with fizz.
My father's death was just the start: Two years later my mother died, almost two years to the day of Dad's passing. I got the call from Carol the morning of July 1 as I was preparing to run the 2019 River Run 10K.) Of course 2020 was the year that damn COVID-19 shut down the world. Then in October of 2021 my ex-wife Teresa (with whom I'd been on good terms since our divorce) died of COVID. And then in February of 2022 my son Travis joined his sister and mother in death. I'd like to say he died of liver failure, but the plain truth is he died of too much whiskey. (As his mom's next of kin he had to tell the hospital not to resuscitate Teresa, and even though that was what his mother had told him her wishes were, he was despondent with guilt over it and medicated with alcohol.)
I was still exercising with the bicycle, but in the time after Mom's passing my weight climbed into the 250's and then into the 260's to 270's where they stayed for a couple of years. Then in mid 2022 my weight went over 280, was consistently there until the start of September when I for some reasom lost interest in recording my weight anymore.
It's been a year and a half since then. My bicycle had two flat tires and a rusted out drive train. My finances (or maybe I should say my priorities) wouldm't allow me to get another bike until just recently. My weight is now in the mid 260's… maybe I did something right between the Fall of 2022 and now.
But I still have to ask: Was the death of my father, and the deaths of other family members, the real reason my health and fitness journey was sidetracked? And if it was, have I REALLY dealt with it? Or like a chiming electric clock that no one replaces the batteries to, has the issue just grown fainter and fainter with time 'til it's at the point I just don't notice it now?
To anyone who took the time to read all of this: I welcome any insights or advice into what might really be going on here and how I might effectively deal with it.
