Good morning, everyone! Here we are, nineteen weeks into the Big Skeezy Challenge. It’s been quite the roller coaster, hasn’t it? We’ve watched as Big Skeezy (now referred to by some CS staffers as “Not-As-Big Skeezy”) has battled the bulge and, for the most part, won. Along with the thrill of victory we’ve also witnessed the agony of defeat. Skeezy was closing in on the 300 pound mark after last week’s five pound loss. Would Week Nineteen prove to be the last push to his first major goal or would his high-rolling social life prove to be his undoing? Let’s break it down:
Coming off a pretty good week with a five pound loss, I was determined to stay on track. I feel like I’m becoming a bit of a broken record with these posts, as they all seem to start the same and then segue into some awful thing I did towards the end of the week. The funny thing is that my life has really settled into a routine. It had to. I actually like that there’s a certain amount of rigidity to my lifestyle now, but I love that there’s ample room for flexibility. Lord knows I flex the hell out of it, too.
All of that aside, the week started as most do. I rode my bike, I worked out, I didn’t do anything destructive. It was pretty boring yet very fulfilling at the same time. Friday was a bit of a cheat day, however, and by “a bit” I mean “I dominated a Five Guys burger”. As you may or may not know, I am surrounded by some lovely ladies here at the office. I love them dearly. The days wouldn’t be nearly as fun or tolerable without them. Friday had set up to be a particularly grueling day for one of my work wives, as she had been abandoned by some of the other girls who were off on extended weekend trips. I decided to take care of her that day so I treated her (and myself) to a lunch I picked up from Five Guys. Man, was that good. A regular burger all the way, baby. Healthy? Nope! Delicious? YES.
The burger was so filling, in fact, that I didn’t eat again until Saturday night when I went to a little Mexican joint near the office. I got a shredded beef burrito which was really big. I ate half of it that night. The pretty lady I was with (who had just finished dominating her two item combo, barely coming up for air during the process) said that it was like watching a little girl eat because I couldn’t finish it. Cute, ain’t she? It wasn’t that I COULDN’T finish it, but rather that I didn’t WANT to finish it. I ate to satisfaction, not until my eyes bulged. See? Routine. Earlier that day I hit the gym with the boys and worked out for about 90 minutes, doing extensive weights, a half hour of cardio and a long abs session.
Sunday was the first day I actually consumed any alcohol of note, as we had a 1:08 tee time at our local golf course. As per our usual course rules, we arrived with an 18 pack. Golf was fantastic, though a bit windy and I didn’t shoot well. I also neglected to put on any sunscreen, which resulted in a very bright red face that I am wearing as I type this. Here’s a picture of us taken somewhere on the back nine, the first 18 pack, a few more beers we picked up at the turn and a pint of Jack into the round:
I also ate a hot dog and a bag of carby snack treats. COuldn’t tell you what they were, officially, other than delicious. Later that day we ate a couple of frozen pizzas while watching Chicago stick it to Miami (win).
Normally I would spend a Monday before the weigh in eating right, hitting the gym and getting a good amount of sleep. Unfortunately, I screwed that up pretty good last night. Our friend ‘Dave” had come into town and we were taking him out for a few drinks. This started, for me, about 7:30 PM last night. We hit four different bars and had a lot of shots for some reason. While it’s not uncommon for us to have shots, it IS uncommon that we’re drinking those sugary mixed crap shots like Surfers on Acid or Kamikazes. The night was certainly not our finest moment, though a good time was had. I finally got to bed around 3:00AM.
Naturally, I was worried about today’s weigh-in based on the combined effort (or lack thereof) of Sunday and Monday. I even toyed with officially moving the weigh-in day to Friday so I’d be hitting it BEFORE I ruin it all on the weekends. I decided against it, however, as it’s a better indicator of my actual weight to get the reading closer to the bad days than it is to get it after two or three really good days. In any case, I awoke and stepped on the scale to discover…
…I’d lost seven pounds. For those of you keeping score at home, that brings my weight down to 299 with a total loss on the year of 72 pounds.
FINALLY! I can’t even describe what I felt when that digital readout climbed up the scale and stopped on a 2. I haven’t seen that in a long, long time. It’s fairly emotional to think that I’ve come this far, but even more so to think that I let it get this far. Then I began to think about how far I have yet to go. I figure I’m about halfway there…and it’s only going to get harder. You know what, though? I’m glad it’s going to be more difficult. Anything worth fighting for demands your best effort.
That’s it for this week, folks. See you in a few days.
