Wake up calls and new beginnings

Yeah, so it's been a while.

The past several weeks have been filled with food, drink, gluttony, and total ambivalence. I can't even tell you how many times I went through the drive through, how many beers I drank, and how many hours I sat on the couch. I also can't tell you how many pounds I've gained, because I've avoided the scale just as much as I've avoided the treadmill. I do know, however, that I'm currently wearing size 16 pants.

The scariest part is that I didn't really care until a couple days ago.

Angie and I were at a local restaurant for lunch. As we sat in our booth, I perused the menu and wondered whether to have a cheeseburger and fries or a salad. I opted for the salad. Granted, it had pieces of fried chicken, bacon, and shredded cheese. But hey- roughage and all, right?

That's when I started to feel strange. I was sweating bullets and I couldn't breathe. Everything faded to white and I couldn't hear anything. Then I passed out, right there in the booth. Angie later told me I was shaking while I was unconscious. When I woke up a few seconds later, all I wanted to do was get outside, into the cool winter air. Stupidly, I got on my feet and made my way toward the door. Almost made it, too. Right as I was about to reach the door, I collapsed near a booth of ladies. I awoke and a woman was patting my back and repeating "Are you okay, honey?"

"Oh, I wound up on the floor? How embarrassing," I replied in my stupor. I kept apologizing as Angie and the hostess helped me outside and handed me a glass of ice water. I took off all my extra layers and my shoes and took in the water like I hadn't had any in months.

I don't know exactly why I fainted twice in the middle of a Houlihan's, but I know that I have to fucking get real. Right now.

Yesterday, I got reacquainted with that lovely wagon that I've avoided for so long. It was tough. Today was worse, because my body realized I wasn't giving it all the sugar it was used to. It rebelled by giving me a monster headache and a bitchy attitude. I don't care, though. I don't want to die.

When a new season of The Biggest Loser started tonight, I knew it was a sign from the diet and exercise gods that I needed to test my fitness. I put on my workout clothes and noticed right away how much my body has really changed. The treadmill looked at me with surprise as I approached. "Oh, you're back, huh? You think you can just walk all over me after not talking to me for months?" If treadmills could talk, that's what mine would have said tonight. Nevertheless, I got on and was happily surprised to learn I can still run a mile.

So here I am. I'm still planning on rejoining my running group later this month and training for the Oklahoma City Marathon in April.

Here we go. In the words of the great PastaQueen: "Oh really, let's just fucking do this already!"

Woot woot!