ONE - 3/30/02

It is not over. It will never be over. I am going to be on the same spinning wheel for the rest of my life. It will never end. I know that there is not going to be a magical point in my life that I look back to as an old man and say, “And that was when I stopped being a disgusting fat person.” There is no single moment of victory. There is struggle. There is process. There is routine. There is repetition. And maybe you will reach a point in your life where you don’t want to stick a gun in your mouth. I should probably stop being so presumptuous. This is how it is for me. I don’t know how it is for you. I don’t even know who you are - even if you are the person standing right next to me.

I went into this diet project with many goals. Lose weight. Exercise. Write more. Evolve. If the problem is just an issue of losing weight, well, it really is not a problem. It is a single act of will power. It is one item. It is the only thing that you have to worry about in a single day. Your impulse and reaction to impulse are very simple. Human beings should be able to handle this elementary one thought act. If the only goal is to lose weight and you cannot, you are a failure as a human being. It is very simple. These are the rules. I know that life is very complex but if I thought that I had a real problem with being a disgusting fat person, I would drop everything and lose the weight. I did it at 304 lbs. I did it with smoking. When I quit smoking, everything in my daily routine focused on me hitting that goal. That is how I quit in one try – cold turkey. I was able to do it in one try because that is all I did while I was quitting. Work, diet, band, friendships and family all suffered while I focused all of my energy on not smoking. I wish I could convince people of how easy this is. Will shame therapy work?

I am now at the point in my life where many things about my character bother me but none of them is so bad where I have to quit all of the other problems to focus on the big one. If you are out of work, have to find a job. If you are fat, lose weight. I wish that life was so simple. Now, at age thirty, I have all these weird issues that are still lingering on from when I hit adulthood. I don’t know what I am doing with my life – sort of. I wish I were skinnier – kind of. Maybe I want to do something else with my life. Maybe I don’t. I think that I don’t want to work in office anymore. I am pretty sure that spending the rest of my life in Cleveland, OH is not what I want I want to do. I don’t know if I want kids. I don’t if I want anything. I don’t know. I just don’t know.

Looking back, I think I was able to do pretty much everything that I wanted to do with this diet project. Sure, I could have lost more weight but something else would have suffered. It, meaning life, is a long process for me and I realize that it is going to take time – probably the rest of my time – to get it right. I wish that I would have been less depressed during the early days of the diet. I will work on that. I wish that I would have not gotten that flu. That screwed things up. I wish that every time that I gain more confidence in me I did not lose belief in those around me. And what is up with the fainting? I have not felt right for the last week.

Looking forward, I am planning on continuing on with life, factoring out an early death, exactly the same as how I have been. Eating more this past week has made me feel fat and guilty. I am looking forward to Monday and getting back to yogurt, salsa and vegetables. I think that I am eating enough. People will tell you to eat more because they want you to be fat. I am looking forward to trying vegetarianism. Not so much that I am going to enjoy not eating meat but I am really looking at this as a way of further breaking the way that the system has a grip on me. Do I want to eat at the Outback Steakhouse ever again? No. Do I want to look at another restaurant built right off of the interstate and say, “Hey let’s eat there. It is like a Denny’s with a liquor license.” No – and I don’t want to watch the news on TV anymore either. I am done with the bullshit. I am approaching vegetarianism as an act of defiance. I am trying to say that I am not a part of this bullshit system. I do not want to be part of this world anymore. Not eating a Big Mac ever again is a step in the right direction.

Yes, I am a horrible fucking fat person.

posted by Thea at 8:58 AM

TWO – 03/29/02

More favorite thoughts about running.

I ran a mile in just about six minutes one day. This one day can also be renamed one of the greatest days of my life. It was a couple of years ago in early fall. It was sunny and bright but not too warm. The girls at St. Augustine were practicing volleyball on the front lawn of the school. I was feeling loose. I jogged for a mile to get warmed up and then loosened up some more in Lakewood Park. I knew, distance wise, what a straight mile down Lake Avenue was. I prepared myself mentally, telling myself that I was the man now dog, and hit it. I cannot fully describe to the non-running enthusiast what it felt like to kick for a whole mile. I needed air the whole time but since I was just going a mile, I did not try to stop and monitor the situation and keep my pace. I just kicked. Most times when I am running, it is a constant battle with my body to keep going – pacing with caution and preserving my strength. On this day, I ran as fast as I could for six minutes. It was a totally different kind of rush. I remember sunshine and I remember girl volleyball players. Heaven. I need to get out there and do that again.

The record “Aenima” by Tool is my new favorite album to run to. It rocks. It is the perfect speed for distance running record. Red Giant and Deep Purple will slow you down. I know. I tried. And anything fast enough but not heavy will burn you out in the first mile. For me, it must be heavy for me to run to. I love Tool. Musically they are great and the message is perfect. They are almost as good as Neurosis, which is an accomplishment since most bands don’t even come close. “Eulogy” will start rocking at right about the mile mark if you are pacing yourself correctly. Great record.

It was this past fall the last time I ran. I was not really participating in any diet or fitness program, I just wanted to burn off some steam. I am now at the point physically and I know my body well enough that I can run a 5K at will after as many months off as I take. I am not going to break any land speed records but I will be able to run without stopping for the entire distance. I know, even with all of the weird headaches and light headedness that I have been going through this week, that if I hit the road this morning, I would be able to run the distance. I think that it is a more a matter of will power and mental strength than it is physical. You have to believe that you are going to get through it. If you don’t believe that you can run a 5K, you are not going to be able to. Simple. This applies to most situations in life. You have to think you can do something to do it. I stopped running because I hurt my foot somehow. It did not happen while running. In fact, I was feeling great on the road. I was moving a futon and something cracked loudly in my foot. I still think that it hurts sometimes but, no matter, as soon as the doctor tells me I am all right, (I will not die. I will live.) I am hitting it. I can’t wait.

Yes, I am a horrible fat person.

Note: Due to an unexplained fainting incident and my impending vegetarian lifestyle, I am taking the week off to enjoy some light Polish-like sausage and relax before my big physical on April 2nd. This is not an excuse to eat cakes filled with little pies but an attempt by me to take it down a notch so I do not die before the doctor tells me that it is OK for me to start running again. Thank you for your anticipated understanding.


posted by Thea at 6:43 AM

THREE – 03/28/02

More favorite thoughts about running.

I changed into my running gear. I drank a glass of water. I stretched my lead legs attempting to limber up the rusty joints. I put on my Sony Walkman with the Deftones “White Pony” record in it and hit the road. I ran for a few minutes on dead empty and then hit the wall. I should have turned back right away but I have the mental imaging problems of an anorexic teenage girl and that kept me moving. I moved like I was running though a shallow lake. I was embarrassed by my sloth. Yes, I am a disgusting fat person. I move accordingly. I decided, in the lingo of jocks and sportos everywhere, to dig deep inside to enhance my pathetic performance. The problem was, I have nothing inside of me. Nothing. What am I supposed to inspire myself with? Thoughts of getting laid with my new great body or dreams of kicking sand in somebody's face? I should not really care but I still drive myself with no thoughts except fear and pain. Fear and pain move me.

I started kicking. I have been trying to destroy myself while running for some time. I have been trying to cause my body to experience so much pain that it can't run anymore. I have been trying to break myself somehow. I thought it should be easy but breaking yourself is really harder than you think. I can't pull a muscle bad enough to get me to stop. I can't break my own leg. I have been trying to destroy myself by running on the broken old slate sidewalks on Lake Avenue. They jut out of the ground at 45 degree angles - just waiting to rip my ankles apart. But I can't hit them just right. They aren’t doing their job.

I keep on running. I try hitting the chuckholes in the sidewalk with my feet in an effort to break my stride or my foot but I keep on running. I cant' stop myself for trying.

Last night, at about twenty minutes into my death run, I hit the edge of the sidewalk where it met the tree lawn and a root that broke through the concrete. I was trucking pretty hard. I hit the corner of the broken sidewalk perfectly bad twisting the entire foot sideways. I hit Nirvana with that step. The pain made me white out. I swear to God it was accident – on of the happiest accident of them all. Praise God. Praise the Lord.

I was blank in white pain for a few seconds. I turned off the "White Pony" unconsciously to concentrate on the pain. It was sweet. It was bliss. It was close to an orgasm. I was lost in my body reacting to stimulus. On auto pilot. Alive.

I stopped running. I did not fail over onto the ground but came close. I did not climax through the pain. I swore a few times through clenched teeth. I was to a daycare playground and those kids don’t need to hear my mouth. I tested now much pressure my foot could take and swore some more. I limped for a few feet. I put more pressure on my bad foot with each step. It hurt. I was happy. No more running.

I iced it the ankle when I got home and called her at work to tell her the good news. She was worried about me. She told me to stop running. Oh boy. No problem. You betcha.

Yes, I am a horrible fat person.

Note: Due to an unexplained fainting incident and my impending vegetarian lifestyle, I am taking the week off to enjoy some light Polish-like sausage and relax before my big physical on April 2nd. This is not an excuse to eat cakes filled with little pies but an attempt by me to take it down a notch so I do not die before the doctor tells me that it is OK for me to start running again. Thank you for your anticipated understanding



posted by Thea at 8:19 PM

FOUR – 03/27/02

More favorite thoughts about running.

I remember the exact moment that I hurt my leg the first time. I was finishing up a 5K on a Sunday morning. I was running east on Clifton Blvd. after turning south on Nickelson off Lake Ave. I was right around Donald and kicking my final sprint where an old man and his dog would not get out of my way. I kept sprinting as hard as I could while dodging them O.J. Simpson airport style. Shifting my weight so fast made something snap. It was a bright Sunday morning. I had sweat pouring in my eyes. I would not stop running until Cove. Oh boy did it hurt.

I hated the caution in which I had to approach running after the pain finally went away. I like to go out and kick ass free from the worry of injury. I can’t remember the exact moment when I stopped worrying that the leg was going to snap again but eventually I forgot about it.

I remember running down Detroit Ave. towards West Blvd. early one Saturday morning. I ran in the middle of the road so it must have been winter. For some reason, I had an unlimited amount of steam that morning and ran as hard as I could down Detroit until I hit West 91st Street. I ran down West 91st Street from Detroit Ave. to the old Reveler house – the first place that I lived after I moved out of my parent's house. I remember looking at the Reveler house as I ran past it and thinking about time passing or some bullshit. I usually stop and stare at the house to reminisce but not this time. I was running too good that morning to stop and reflect. I wish I would have been timing myself that day because I really was running hard.

I used to run in green Adidas running shorty shorts. I looked ridiculous but in the summer you need to wear shorty shorts because it is hot. I remember once, on a burning hot summer morning, I actually took off my shirt while I ran because it was so hot. I am not now and never have been in shape so it had to be pretty disgusting seeing my male bosoms in the morning sun on the drive down Lake Ave. to the Shoreway that morning. I put my shirt back on after awhile trying to be considerate of the morning commuters. They were on their wasy to work. That is bad enough.

This one time, when I was a little fat boy, my mother entered my far more athletic than me brother into a race through downtown Cleveland, OH. I don’t think that my brother was all that fast as a six year old but he probably looked like lightening compared to the tubby eight year old me and confused my mother into thinking that he was going to be world class runner. I wish I could remember how it was explained to me that I was not going to be running with the rest of the kids. Not only was my mother confused into thinking my brother was fast but she was also paranoid that somebody was going to abduct her son in particular of all the hundreds of kids running that day. We had to keep an eye on my little brother the entire course of the race which was hard because of the crowds and the fact that my mother was carrying my sister around too. At one point, the race went through the first floor of the old Higbees – you know, where "Christmas Story" was filmed. For whatever reason, my mother convinced herself that Higbees would be the best place to grab her kid. We, as a group, could not get into Higbees because of the crowds. My mother started freaking out in fear of losing her Golden Boy. She eventually yelled at me, the chubby eight year old, to join in with the kids that were running the course through Higbees so I could tail my brother and prevent the imminent abduction. Since the Higbees jewelry section was near the end of the race and I had the fear of mom flowing through me, I was blowing past the other kids in pursuit of my little brother. The crowd, filled in among the perfume counters, cheered loudly for the galloping fat boy. I, in turn, felt their cheers. I smiled the biggest smile that this fat boy has ever smiled and waved to my admiring fans as I ran down the red carpet.

Yes, I am a horrible fat person.

Note: Due to an unexplained fainting incident and my impending vegetarian lifestyle, I am taking the week off to enjoy some light Polish-like sausage and relax before my big physical on April 2nd. This is not an excuse to eat cakes filled with little pies but an attempt by me to take it down a notch so I do not die before the doctor tells me that it is OK for me to start running again. Thank you for your anticipated understanding.

posted by Thea at 7:24 AM

FIVE – 03/26/02

More favorite thoughts on running.

I did not work the summer before I got married since I was overloading classes at school to graduate early. I could not take one more semester of college. It sickened me. I had plenty of time to stretch and train that summer thanks to no job and took advantage of it by doing some roadwork every day. Since I am a working man like that guy from that Rush song, I have always run at night after work. This was the only time that I have ever run with any consistency in the morning. I like to run in the morning, Ernie. It makes me feel good. It is nice running on an empty stomach. It is nice to have nothing but coffee rolling around the stomach and bubbling up the throat while you kick it. In the morning, you can see all of the cracks in the sidewalks and are able to avoid the ones that will bust your ankle up. I like to watch people driving into work and think that I was better than them. I motivated myself by thinking that they were laughing at me or cheering for the other fat football player. I was a monster that summer and got to the almost respectable 5K in 24 minutes level in only a couple of months.

A few weeks before the wedding I tore something in my leg. I did not have time for the pain and imagined myself to be a hard ass hockey player and kept on running. This was a mistake. I would take a day or two off, notice that I could walk without pain and hit the road again. Usually, I would be able to run for a quarter mile or so before the ripping pain in my leg would magically reappear. The only memory worth saving from these episodes is each and every exact moment that I would feel that ripping sensation again. It was vivid like a firecracker thrown at a Boulder show. I thought that I could run through it but I could not. A week before the wedding, I stopped running all together. I felt weak and girlish for stopping but I could not take the pain anymore. I had a hard time walking down the aisle thanks to my enthusiastic leg tearing and it took a few weeks after the honeymoon before I could hit it again. I am not a big fan of taking time off for any reason but sometimes the wuss inside of me (my inner wuss) takes over and I stop. I remember limping for awhile and many recommendations from concerned parties around me to see a doctor but, eventually, it just stopped hurting.

Yes, I am a horrible fat person.

Note: Due to an unexplained fainting incident and my impending vegetarian lifestyle, I am taking the week off to enjoy some light Polish-like sausage and relax before my big physical on April 2nd. This is not an excuse to eat cakes filled with little pies but an attempt by me to take it down a notch so I do not die before the doctor tells me that it is OK for me to start running again. Thank you for your anticipated understanding.

SIX - 03/25/02

More favorite thoughts on running.

The all time best album to run to from the early years was “Kill ‘Em All” by Metallica. “Kill ‘Em All” is a damn fine record in any situation or era but it meant the most to me when I was younger and I think I did literally want everybody dead. I have lightened up recently and have wanted to kill less slowly as time has progressed. The best songs for running are the final three: “No Remorse”, “Seek & Destroy” and “Metal Militia”. These songs are guaranteed to pump you up for running or any activity that you choose to do for that matter. I still will hum “No Remorse” when I am running to this day. I love a grinding groove when I run. Or Silence.

I took many years off of running while I smoked cigarettes. It took quitting smoking and the pressure of getting married to get me back on the road again. My wife and I began walking months before the wedding in an attempt to get us into shape for those once in a lifetime pictures that were going to be taken at the big event. Nobody wants to see a bride and groom look like a couple a freak show fat people unless, of course, it is the wedding of two actual freak show fat people. Think of the romance. Think of Two Ton Tilley and Big Billy Pork Chop the Rock and Roll Fat Man on their wedding day. It is a nice picture but that was not going to be my wife and me. We walked every day before the wedding. We also tried cutting down our intake of food so we would not be so fat. I can see a theme developing. I was thinking about running again the whole time that we were walking around the Edgewater Park neighborhood. I saw others running down Lake Ave. and said to myself that that is me. I mapped out the distances around West 117th St. and West Blvd. for a project at school. Seeing the mileage right there in front of me made me want to go. I love data. It is my inspiration. We were a mile away from our apartment one night a couple of months before the big day. I told the soon to be wife that I wanted to see if I could still run a mile and took off down Lake Ave. to home. It felt good to be running at first and then I hit the wall. I struggled for a half of a mile but then was overcome by the thought that I was actually doing it. I was running again and felt totally reborn. I made it the entire mile jogging at a light pace. I was not fast but since most people can’t even run a mile, I felt great. I walked for a while after the first mile feeling rejuvenated – planning the whole time when I was going to run again and my routine for the rest of the summer.

Yes, I am a horrible fat person.

Note: Due to an unexplained fainting incident and my impending vegetarian lifestyle, I am taking the week off to enjoy some light Polish-like sausage and relax before my big physical on April 2nd. This is not an excuse to eat cakes filled with little pies but an attempt by me to take it down a notch so I do not die before the doctor tells me that it is OK for me to start running again. Thank you for your anticipated understanding.


posted by Thea at 7:23 AM

SEVEN – 03/24/02

More favorite thoughts about running.

I ran through the Garfield Reservation at night after I ate dinner. For whatever reason, I did not like the sand/gravel path that Thea’s Uncle Emerald installed for multi purpose use. Looking back, I probably was afraid of the dark and did not want to be closer to the woods than I had to. Parts of the main road through the Garfield Reservation were as old as time itself and loaded with chuck holes. Once, I sprained my ankle running into one of these holes. It hurt like you wouldn’t believe. I think that I might have cried but they were definitely tears of joy because I was just a quarter of a mile into the park and didn’t feel like running that night. I walked it off and went to work the next day with a swollen foot. A lot of good it does you to sprain your ankle if the women at work can’t look at it.

I was afraid of the Boogey Man during those early years of running. There was a part of the road that hooked down a hill into a far corner of the park near Broadway. In this isolated section of the park, there was a large sewer pipe just like the one in the movie “It” by Stephen King that was running on television at the time. I was afraid of killer clowns – still am – and ran extra hard where I thought the Boogey Man would be. Motivation and inspiration can come from anyplace.

I ran with my brother a couple of times back then and with Doug of Quazimodo too. I like the thought of running with somebody else but, in practice, I enjoyed the solitude of running more. I ran with a girl I used to roll with once. She ran cross-country in high school. I started off too fast and had to walk after a mile or I would have dropped dead. Embarrassing. Another time, I ran with a white rapper guy that I had friends with from the old neighborhood. Yes, I have an old neighborhood. He was a basketball player and in decent shape. He thought that he was going to be able to run this light skinned brother into the ground. I paced myself until the last quarter of a mile and then sprinted. He could not believe that I had it in me to beat him when I won. I noticed that I was less fat then.

I started to get less high on life and more high on drugs when I moved out of my parent’s house. I stopped running almost completely as I worked myself up to a two packs of non-filtered Camels a day smoking habit. The rock-n-roll life did not agree with me so much so I boomeranged back into my parent’s house for three months after more than a year away. I was not allowed to smoke in my parent’s house. I started running instead. I ran at the track at Trinity High School. I would get myself to where I thought that I was going to freak out if I did not get a cigarette and then go do laps. I could not run anymore but did it because I had to. Slow lap after slow lap. Afterwards, I would smoke a Camel on my parent’s front porch. Those cigarettes after the laps were easily the best cigarettes of my life.

Yes, I am horrible fat person.

Lbs. = 205

posted by Thea at 9:20 AM