In that span of 3100 days, I hit my peak weight of 256 pounds. I felt horrible, and teamed up with my wife and my best friend to do something about it. We went to Weight Watchers and drank the kool-aid. We had great first weeks-- all of lost between 8-11 pounds, and we stuck with it. 

Dayna and I hit the gym, and we hit it hard. We would lift every day right after I got off work, then do 30 minutes on the treadmill. I couldn't run very fast at first. I "jogged" for three weeks at 4.5 mph, an embarrassing speed for a person who used to run like the wind. Still, I kept my head down and did it. I got better, running faster and faster until I was running more than a 5K five days a week. 

The adviser at Weight Watchers one week asked the class who hadn't cheated one time all week, and Dayna and I looked at each other to confirm, then raised our hands. In hindsight, she was probably trying to prove a point about everyone making mistakes sometimes, and we likely ruined that, but that wasn't our problem. We were fully committed, and it kept showing on the scale. 

I had told the folks at Weight Watchers that my goal weight was 190 lbs. In 2012, I was 184 lbs, surpassing my goal. Here's me at my sisters wedding. I'm the one wearing an extra-slim size small shirt from Express:

That almost seems like something that I made up at this point. That's because I currently weigh 250 lbs.

The reason that it's upsetting to me is because I didn't do a trick. I didn't do a weird diet where you only eat oranges, or get my stomach stapled or inject myself like was so popular a few years ago. I did the hard work and diet version, and felt like I had that side of things figured out. But whatever I had figured out, I can't seem to remember now. 

I'm bad at food, which is a shame considering how much I like it. When I say I'm bad at food, it's because I don't eat enough good food, but I eat a lot of lazy food. Fast food, pizza, popcorn, chips... anything that I can just power slam into my body with the least effort possible on my part. 

One of the tragedies involved is that when you carb overload your body, you don't really enjoy them. Sometimes pizza can be a revelation, but it never will be if you've been eating nothing but carbs for weeks on end. Or longer. So when I do go eat nice things, my enjoyment is weakened. I joke around a lot and say I'm a crack head, but that's really a strong comparison. I can't function and my mood will change if I don't get my fix, but it blurs out other parts of my life. Depressing, right?

Well I did great today. I got up early (but not too early) and did some body weight exercises. I ate really well today. I don't feel great right this second-- probably withdrawals from being a crack head-- but I'm really proud. 

I just hope I feel like posting in three weeks to say how I've kept it up and that I'm back on a happier path. 

Sorry to anyone who ever reads this. I'll try to be funny next time.