Frustration

I feel fat. If you know me well, which most of you who read this do not, you have heard me say this before. Mine is a life-long struggle with weight, a struggle that will ever be with me, ever haunt me. Two years ago, I was in the best shape of my life, knocking out a handful of Triathlons that year. In those days, I stepped on the scale to an average of about 205 pounds, rarely cresting at 210. I felt fast, lithe, light on my feet and completely unstoppable. Today I stepped on the scale to read 225.6 pounds. I cannot seem to shake the extra weight. By all accounts, I am physically stronger today than I was two years ago; serious butt-busting in the gym will do that. I am sure I have gained some muscle, but my tight pants suggest more than that. My exercise routine has not changed dramatically except that I never get to swim these days. I have compensated in other areas. I run more, and I hit the cardio-strength training harder. My eating habits are not awful. In fact, I probably eat lee meat and more vegetables overall, and my calorie intake, as well as the type of calories, continues to keep within optimal ranges. I am baffled. I must be missing something. It is my greatest fear to gain weight and not be able to stop or reverse the process. It is a fear that follows me daily because I have fought so hard for my health. Having weighed over 400 pounds and spending so much of my life buried in morbid obesity, I am loathe at even the thought of it becoming reality again. I am not giving up. I am not being a drama queen, here. I am just thinking out loud, sharing a very personal side of me in the hopes of achieving some release, getting things out in the open so I can try to move forward uninhibited, or at least less inhibited. I'll let you know how things go. There is the 10k coming up Saturday. Oh, how I wish I was 205 right now. I would blow through that thing so much better.