Sometimes the best motivation to avoid failure is getting the reward before a competition is over. That, and the fact Jaron would actually make me pay him back with interest and a tax for making a fool of myself in front of the Russians and bringing dishonor to the Marlow name. Even though court side tickets for a Running Rebel smack down were great; finishing this damn challenge was even better.
After four months that required me to give up comfort food and consuming less daily calories than an anorexic having a fat day, the initial phase of "stretching the rubber band" has got me to the starting point. Next week I start some sadistic phase called "hypertrophy." A phase that Jaron has mentioned numerous times through this journey, but has only given me a little preview of the fun to follow.
Back on July 10th Jaron dropped some major revelations into my world. He outlined the key problems with western civilizations pursuit of weight loss. Me included. As we sat outside of his Sandy, Utah house sharing current life events, I was amazed at his stories of American's piss poor personal fitness. I am the lemming, where is the cliff. 193 is only the starting line to getting to the destination. The work begins once the weight is taken off. So existential, yet so teeth bashingly new.
See, old Jaron and I have known each other on the lesser side of two decades. We swam for the Rebels in the mid-90s, then lived together from 1999 until 2002 in what was commonly know as The House of Pain III. And in no way were we mistaken for two motivated former collegiate athletes during our days as roomies. Our preferred workouts consisted of 12 oz weight classes offered by Miller, and heart pumping Tony Hawk Pro-Skater II cardio, which we actually played for a straight twelve hours one Saturday. Because of a well executed gag order and potential long term psychiatric visit, I will not go into much detail of the dueling hacky-sack work outs. A career we nearly launch once our Y2K predictions did not materialize. We had a Starsky and Hutch kinda thing going there for a while.
After he moved out of state we would reconnect every spring around March Madness. In 2004 he set if off! In full Fat Krause greatness he rolled to a party in a pimp hat and 1970s Elvis shades. Man I loved the Fat Krause. Then two years later Jaron drops into Vegas looking tight as a drum. The freaking guy lost something like four score in a matter of a few months. But the motivation was simply priceless
During our July 10th life changing talk, he told me about his decision to get in shape was 100% vanity driven. In 2006, Jaron was heading to the Cook Islands for a wedding and he had this image of a great white whale on the beach of fine ladies and chiseled Aussies a. Some dudes don't want to be the oldest guy at the club; Jaron didn't want to be the fattest white guy on the beach. Sometimes vanity is the greatest motivator. I'd be a liar if vanity did not play a major role in Destination 195.
A near excessive pride in busting my butt every week was not matched by the love of returning to this blog to report my progress. It has became a simple souvenir of my friendship with Jaron. We are like two comedians standing on a stage trying to crack each other up; not caring if anyone is actually in attendance to hear the insanity coming forth (if only our text message accounts could talk... actually that would be a phone call... either way, I digress). So I have decided to keep No Fat Jokes Please going. Jaron is committed to continue to feed me workouts and challenges, while I swear to hit the gym, pool, road, Stair Master, etc. If he says jump, I am the lemming!
We hope you will continue to come along for the ride, there are going to be some major hilarity on the way. Just wait until I begin my quest to slam dunk before I am 38 (I'll be 37 in February). And if you don't read anymore, no sweat, Krause and I bought our tickets, going to take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what we had in mind, well...maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion: tune in, freak out, get beaten.
Final weigh in: 193.3
Lbs dropped since last weigh-in: 5
Total pounds dropped: 38.5
To hit 195: None... Do the math!
Weeks to go: 0
First and foremost, Congratulations!!! And, yes, I would have demanded a refund; make no mistake. Sadly, I loved "Fat Krause" too, else I wouldn't have played the role for so long. No dietary restrictions, a total lack of self consciousness, no grueling workout regimen to interrupt my busy drinking schedule, and, oh yeah...no ladies. Vanity, not one of the seven deadly sins, I checked. Gluttony, on the other hand... For those keeping score at home, I dropped one pound shy of "four score". If you were not alive when people used the term "score", and none of you were, that's 79 pounds. And in 12 days of sitting on the beaches of the Cook Islands sipping (guzzling) umbrella drinks, I put 10 back on! Rubberband stretched, but immediately let go. Hence the new starting line. Hypertrophy is merely the third in five phases I will take Jarvis through. Final stage (power) is where we'll address the vertical leap. As we enter this stage, Jarvis will enjoy a higher calorie diet, with his precious carbs once more. Maybe not the ones he would like back, those made by one Nabisco, but life giving carbs none the less. I must give ole JT a lot of credit, he always completed the workouts and nutritional guidelines I asked of him, regardless of how absurd. And absurd they were, these last two weeks! Ah, the memories brought back by the photographic evidence (blackmail material) included in this posting. I for one, am glad the blog will go on. I'm not willing or able to go cold turkey on my blog addiction. Nearly got the DT's waiting for this one. I got the cell phone photo of the scale reading midday on Saturday and had to wait until Monday, Rough! I was afraid of being alone. So, as this is not, in fact, the finale...until next time.
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