I’m typing this while laying down in my bed because I can’t hold my arms in an extended position for any length of time.
I just had my first workout with my new personal trainer, Mr. Brian Kizzia of Fort Gibson.
Some of you might remember the little “Journey through the Xs” I made a couple of years ago. You know, the one where I lost 73 pounds in about 13 weeks, taking me from 370 pounds to 297.
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| A look at “The Shirt” pics that I took over the course of the year. |
I was losing weight. The Missus was losing weight, even Kid Funk was losing weight. I was happy. I was working hard, but I was happy.
When the moment of “under 300” came, I was thrilled. I lambasted Facebook with pictures and joyous outbursts, and swore I would never again rise above that dreaded weight.
Then the next week I weight 301 pounds.
I was devastated.
From there I spiraled out of control, trying to desperately to contain the damage, but I had lost all hope on the inside. Eventually, I gave up trying, and the next time I bothered to weigh I tipped the scales at 363 pounds.
That was January 1, 2012.
I made a New Year’s Resolution, and I busted my tail for about 3 months. I dropped about 30 pounds, then…I gave up again.
Today is December 31, 2012.
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The Stats:
Height: 5’11″Weight: 353.6 lbs
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| My measurements. I don’t need any comments about my right bicep being bigger. I’ve worked on that since I was 12. |
Currently I am taking 4 prescription medications:
Metformin 1500 mgs a dayGlyburideLisinoprilFenofibrate
These drugs control my Type II Adult Onset Diabetes, my blood pressure, and my liver enzymes.
I am, to put it mildly, in bad shape.
If I had to guess, my daily caloric intake ranges from 4000-7000 calories, and aside from a few heated games of Call of Duty per week, I lead a very sedentary lifestyle.
In short, just like every other male in the Sloat family, I’m on track to die before I turn 40.
A few weeks ago, I asked Brian if he would work with me in return for a little publicity. He agreed, and we’re going to work together to make a new Travis Sloat in 2013. He’s preparing a meal plan, he’s going to train me in cardio and weight lifting, and in general be the bane of my existence for the next couple of months.
I’ve agreed to go 100% with him through the month of January, and given him my word that I will stick to a food plan, in order to show people what an actual diet and exercise “diet” can do.
Now here’s what you can do.
You can head here and “Like” my Facebook page. There you can see in-depth the struggles and successes of my previous journey, and the new one.
You can head here and “Like” Brian’s Facebook page. If you are interested in having him help you out, you can contact him. If you want to wait to see what he does with me, that’s fine too.
And, starting tomorrow, if you see me out and about, and I’m eating something I shouldn’t be, I want you to punch me in the face. No questions, just slap the food from my hands and punch me in the face.
Then run away. Because I for sure can’t catch you in the shape I’m in now.
I am receiving a discount in return for these publications. All opinions expressed are my own, and all results you see will be real and not modified in any way. These blogs in no way correspond with any other writing I do in a professional capacity.
Have you ever gotten done with a workout or a strenuous sporting activity and said, “Whoo! That killed me!”
That almost happened tonight.
You see, Kid Funk and I have taken up tennis to sort of aid our diets. The way we figure it, we’ve tried everything but diet and exercise, and now we are trying diet and exercise. Tennis is exercise, and it is low impact, and we’re both athletic people, even if we are a little on the husky side.
We got out there tonight and played our best out of five games. That means we sometimes play up to 25 actual matches. Tonight was not a good night for me, because he beat me pretty solidly, 3 games to 1.
As we sat, pretty tired I might add, on the bench for our cool down, a couple of guys asked us if we wanted to play doubles. Neither of us really like to back down from a challenge, so we accepted.
It’s here I should point out that the other team had…a black guy. We had pretty much accepted defeat by the time we got up to play. This was also our first time playing doubles, and so I had to get used to the new out of bounds line, and I let several go because I thought they were out. It didn’t take us long to figure out that we might have a shot at winnin this thing, but we were quickly running out of steam.
It came down to a tie ball game where the next match won. Then it came down to the next point won. Then it went deuces, then it went advantage, and then it went deuces. This went on for an HOUR. Folks, I don’t mind telling you, I tried to throw the game. One of them served the ball long, and I called it in and said it was game. Kid Funk was having none of that though, and he called it for what it was. We kept playing.
Finally, it went advantage us. Then came the serve. We volleyed briefly, and then they returned it…
“LET IT GO!” I yelled. Kid Funk let it go. It was long.
We. Were. Victorious. We had beaten them. So far, Kid Funk and I are undefeated at doubles tennis. Consequently, I think we also retired from doubles tennis, so we went out on top.
Then the fun started. We went out to eat, he had chaffed nipples and a hamstring cramp, and I was dehydrated and just tuckered out. We left everything we had on that court. It hurt to eat, and then I ate too much, and now I hurt because I ate too much AND because I played tennis. When we got back in the truck to leave, a Charlie horse hit KF so hard he wound up damn near in the fetal position in the cab of my truck. He was writhing in agony, and I was dealing with choking fits of laughter that came real close to causing me to be bulimic.
I asked Kid Funk to sum up the game: “We won and my shit hurts. The last point lasted longer than the previous 10 matches. Tennis is stupid. Felt like we were playin for world peace.”
The game though? It was epic. It was awesome. We won. We beat a team with a black guy.
We’re tennis Hoosiers.