A Different Kind of 40th Celebration

Flash back to August 2010.  After eight months on the road, myriad excuses for not exercising regularly or eating right, day after day and night after night of restaurant food and I am now looking at myself shirtless in the bathroom mirror.  “Well, there you have it.  I’m 47 years old, 252 lbs, and a former athlete,” I said to myself, patting my protruding belly, knowing that my usable closet was down to one pair of large jeans, several dress pants with “expandable waists,” and my always faithful warm up pants.  I’d had a good run and I was done.

My life came further crashing down a month later as my marriage ended suddenly and I had another hernia operation thanks to an old cancer operation some 14 years ago.  “Great, now I’m all alone, situationally depressed, and fat,” I thought.  But the reality was I wasn’t alone, and I was far from done.  Several key friends came to my literal rescue, and one of the chief ones was David.  In addition to great counsel he insisted that during this time I must get back into a regular form of fitness regimen.  Eating right, cutting back on the booze, working out 5-6 times a week (weights / walking / running) and getting at least 7 hours of sleep were not an option, they were mandatory.  David would check in on me sometimes 2-3 times a day to make sure I was doing what I needed to do.  And things started to change, and people noticed.

As I climbed out of the mental pit that is divorce, the physical side came along for the ride, too.  10 lbs gone in 6 weeks lead to 20 lbs total 6 weeks later, and while the holidays now loomed ahead I was determined not to falter, at least too much.  By Jan 1 I hadn’t really made any more real progress, but I hadn’t ballooned back up, either.  I continued the march and my mid February had dropped another 10 lbs and was staying steady at 222 lbs, but then came the dreaded plateau.

From 252 to 212...

I wasn’t uncomfortable here, but I had set a personal goal of dropping 50 total lbs, and 30 was simply not enough.  At the beginning of March I got another big physical surprise as the hernia operation I’d had back in September had complications resulting in three separate procedures, the last one a few weeks ago the biggest of all, and walking was the only form of exercise allowed.  But a funny thing happened on the way in / out of the OR: my girlfriend Kristi got me eating frequently as a “pescetarian” – essentially a veggie who also east fish / eggs – and despite very little exercise, the weight started coming off again…

Flash back to a week ago and I stepped on the scale, and 211.6 lbs came up on the dial.  Another 10 lbs was gone, a 40^th celebration I never really thought possible.  I have a “new” wardrobe, too.  Actually it’s the old clothes I thought I’d never fit in again, but trust me they’re pretty new to me… and I’m still not done.  I made it back into the gym today for the first time and have been hitting the trail here in Austin once again.  At 48, my days as a competitive athlete may well indeed be behind me, but the athlete within just needed to shed some of his shell to come back out.  The secret?  Consistency and support.  So thanks, David, I literally couldn’t have done it without you and the road ahead is now very different than what I’d expected.  Make it happen – ciao for now – Cb…

Thoughts on Osama's Death

Like millions of others around the world I was glued to the TV last night as the word spread about the demise of Osama Bin Laden.  But as the news spread and the jubilant celebration kicked off around the White House, Ground Zero, and Times Square, I found myself not feeling the same way as those partying the night away did…

I flashed back to where I was on 9/11 – and I know we all remember that day all too well – out in the north Florida woods on the Eglin AFB test range with my Combat Training Team partner Jon Saleska.  We were setting up booby traps for an exercise later that day with USAF Special Ops Combat Controllers and Pararescuemen, some of the folks who would eventually be first in when the real fighting began.  We immediately were recalled to base and I have a vivid memory of us driving back in, sharing a set of ear buds listening to a pocket FM radio as the horror unfolded...

I also recalled Oli Bennett, my ex-wife’s cousin, who just happened to have business in the World Trade Center that fateful day and was visiting when the planes struck.  Like thousands around him, he didn’t make it out alive...  I’ve since met his wonderful parents on several occasions and personally witnessed the everlasting damage that day, that attack, did to their psyche.  Nothing will ever completely heal that loss; not time, and certainly not the death of this despicable man.

Sure, it certainly helps the healing process to some capacity.  And I took great satisfaction that it was American forces, boots on the ground and not some drone in sky, that literally pulled the triggers and made the kill shot.  My friends and colleagues who I’ve trained side by side with for many years literally live for opportunities like this to make a difference and take down the bad guys.  So bravo to them! – and I hope that despite the inherent secretive nature of Special Ops and their quiet professionalism we’ll one day get to recognize these true American heroes.

So the news of Osama’s passing is not exactly a day of rampant celebration in my world. Rather it’s a time to sit back with a satisfied smile, knowing that the message has been sent out to Al Quaida and our other enemies: if you mess with the bull, you’re gonna get the horns.  Damn straight.

Ciao for now – Cb…