I don’t know how many of my posts have started with something to the effect of ‘I really need to update this more’.  I suppose if I counted my posts it’d be somewhere near that number.  Life took over and sometimes I honestly just didn’t feel like whining again, even to my super secret sneaky blog that nobody reads.  So I didn’t.  Looks like I haven’t even been here since March.  Lame.

I’m making a promise right now, dear no-reader.  I’m going to start updating this thing more, even if it’s to get on and say ‘nothing new here’ or ‘still alive’ or, if possible, ‘ded’.

I passed the year anniversary last month.  I survived a whole year past that destructive and world-altering event.  I honestly didn’t think I would’ve met that mark but somehow it happened.  On my FB I half-jokingly posted about how it was my first birthday and a few people gamely wished me a happy one.  I say half-jokingly because sometimes I honestly feel like an entirely new person, albeit one with the same issues and hangups as the previous person.  At the year-alive mark I am (was) 60 lbs lighter, my diet absolutely different, my social and non-social life structured differently, so on and so on.  The old me doesn’t exist anymore, for all intent/purpose.

Fast forward a few days from that landmark and I find myself back in the hospital; planned this time, fortunately.  I’d been fighting an inguinal hernia for the past 6-8 months and decided I should get it taken care of before it caused me another unplanned ER trip or death, as it is known to do somewhat easily.  So on the anniversary of my return home from the hospital I put myself in another one, as an outpatient, and then spent a week laid up at home basking in some pretty intense pain.

It’s now 3.5 weeks from that day.  The doc told me I should wait 4 weeks before any strenuous activity.  So no gym, no bike, no hiking, no jogging/running.  No lifting anything heavier than 10 lbs.  Going from exercising 5-6 days a week, sometimes multiple times in a day to nothing sounded like a dream, but in reality it’s miserable.  As much as I still dread going to the gym every time, and suffer every second of it, it’s become a totally integrated portion of my life.  This morning, being fed up and having survived some nice brisk walks recently, I decided to be naughty and go for a hike.  It was hot, oppressively so, but so nice to get out and do things like a real person again.  I felt the impact of my weeks off pretty heavily for the first half.  The uphill was a harder struggle than I anticipated and some of the plateau was still pretty miserable.  And then I hit a point where something basically unlocked; my breath came easier, my mind cleared, my legs stopped feeling shaky, and it was like I had found the me I was last month again.  It was such a great feeling I found myself smiling like an idiot, all by myself up in the hills.  I kept going as far as I could, given the time I had allotted, and then turned back for an excellent second half of the journey.

On the way back my mind began to churn, not in the usual bad way, just..thoughts and analysis, observation and such.  I got thinking about my first birthday (new not old), what a crazy landmark that was, what I’ve accomplished to that point, and I realized that the first year was Phase I.  Year one was survival.  Adjusting to the meds, the lifestyle, the new financial situation, and trying best as I can to cope with the sense of loss and confusion that comes with it all.  I think I’ve done a pretty good job, all things considered.  I really am in the best shape of my life now.  I can do things physically I’d never even dreamed of.  I have more energy than I can recall having.  I notice sly glances from the occasional girl or two, and I often hear words being used to describe my physicality that I would’ve laughed to hear just one year prior (and all my years before that).  On that note, I’m going to digress/diverge for a minute here.

Side story warning:
When setting up my surgery, I initially met with my GP, who referred me to a surgeon.  I looked him up and the reviews were stellar so we met.  He seemed skilled and confident and I immediately trusted his ability.  We talked a bit about my ‘medical history’, because I have that now, and parted ways with a date set for our next meeting; the one that would see me under the knife.  A few weeks later I walk into the hospital and get checked in.  I sit down to wait and finally get called back.  When the nurse leading me back to the prep room confirms my name she makes a comment about how they’d been talking about me for the last few days.  This is odd, as the only person in this group I’d previously met was the surgeon.  The anesthesiologist pops in to let me know that he has another person to prep and would be delayed by a bit.  His nurses, however, will begin all their prep-work and the timing should correspond about perfectly.  He ends with ‘we’ve all been talking about you up here.  It’s an amazing story and we’re all really proud of what you’ve done.’.  From the initial meeting with the nurse until I was discharged, literally every single person I talked to mentioned how I’d been the subject of conversation.  It was like I’d become some sort of weird medical celebrity or anomaly or something.  Very strange.  I’ve mentioned this to a few people since, and the reaction has generally been that seeing the changes I’ve made has been a positive thing for everybody else.  Many of my friends have lost weight, started exercising, eating better, etc.

And it’s really weird to think about being an inspiration to anybody in general, weirder because it’s me, but the weirdest part is the why of it all.  I imagine it’s something akin to the guy who has a disease named after him.  Years later nobody remember the guy, but every time the malady pops up he’s remembered.

End side story

If last year was Phase I, then I’m now in Phase II.  The bummer thing is I guess I missed the boat for all of the I used to be a fatass and now I’m in shape money that seems to be floating around on social media.  Editor’s note: If you want to send me free shit I’m totally not above shilling it.  Kidding.  I think.  But yeah, I took stock during the return to civilization and one of the things that stood out was that, even though I’ve made a pretty serious change and the results are plainly visible, I only pushed hard enough to stay alive.  Basically I put in the hours at the gym, which naturally leads to results, I’m sore all the time as a result, the fat has left and muscles changed and grown, but I’m always just punching the clock.  I do my 30-60+ minutes to the degree I’m tired and feeling it, but I hardly ever challenge myself actively to push harder, or to exhaustion.

Phase I was about continuing to exist.  I’ve done that.  Phase II is about continuing to exist while pushing myself harder and making myself better.  Most of the soft edges are gone.  Now it’s time to polish the rest of them.  I will refine my cardio time and push it as hard as I can.  I will stack weights and work with my trainer to push myself in new and challenging ways, with an eye to adding mass and getting rid of the last of the softness.  I will also be realistic.  I’m 37 years old.  I started my gym-life at 36 after having a heart attack and being diagnosed with diabetes on the same day.  I smoked for a decade and a half.  I will never be a world-class athlete.  I know this.  I’m ok with it.  I can, however, be the best-class athlete I’m physically and mentally capable of being, rather than the one who does the bare minimum he feels is necessary to not nuke out and die.

One of the tougher things I realize I need to work on is the mental aspect of the new life.  I work day to day to get through all of this and to try to not drag everyone around me down.  I try to see the positive as much as I can but I can also acknowledge that this whole metamorphosis has either caused, or been the result of, some damage.  Plain and simple, it’s been a traumatic series of months since that insane day back in June 2015 and it’s hard to go day-to-day without getting stuck dwelling on the negative.  Especially because that’s where I live, in the default.

I’m aware of this, though, and that’s a big thing.  For now I need to focus on the physical.  I need to devote my time and my energy to making the structure safe and sound.  Once that’s locked down, I move on to the engine.

 

Written listening to Massive Attack, The Faint, NIN, Far, The Cure, and Crosses +++.  Shocking, right?