Today is one of those big days for me.
You know the ones I mean.
This is one of those days when something monumental has happened. I’m not talking about getting a package you’ve been waiting on, or your favorite show is back on the air after a long hiatus. I’m talking about one of those days that’s going to stick with you for the rest of your life because it represents something huge and noteworthy in your personal story.
This morning, I stepped on the scale and it read 350.
As of this morning, I have lost 125 pounds from my highest weight.
As of this morning, I am now halfway to my goal weight of 225.
I was so thrilled when I saw the scale settle exactly on 350.0, because I knew this was going to be a great day. I told H and I did the truffle shuffle all over the kitchen out of giddy, stompy joy. It’s been so long, and I’m getting so tired.. but I’m halfway there. I know it’s going to get hard now, and it’s going to test me SO MUCH more than it has already before it’s over…
… but I’m halfway there.
I came to work, bouncing in my shoes, itching to share my good news. I practically ran to the offices when I heard the voice of one of my friends in the hallway so I could tell her the news.
She couldn’t have cared less.
No one cared, actually. People are sick of hearing about it. I tried to tell coworkers and based on their reactions, I shut the door to my office and buried myself in work.
I was hurt. My god, I was hurt.
I know the world isn’t all about me. I know I’m not the center. But I just wanted my friends and coworkers to share in My Day. This is like a graduation, or closing on your home, or any number of huge adult achievements we all share from time to time. We share those experiences with our friends so they can leap for joy with us.
Here’s the kicker. They’re sick of hearing about it. I agree with them. I’m sick of it too. I’m tired of the journey. I’m tired of putting my head down and forcing out another 10 pounds; another 10 minutes on the elliptical, another 10 miles on the bike.
Neil Armstrong was the first human to set foot on the moon.
When he got there and took that first step, his journey was only halfway over… just like mine. Like me, I’ll bet he was tired, scared, euphoric, and dying for someone to share the experience with.
The hardest part of the journey was over; now it was time to take in the view and pause for some reflection. He still had to get home alive, but at that moment, I doubt he was worrying about that very much.
I don’t expect the world to celebrate my accomplishment like it did his, but I’m not going to let the fact that the world doesn’t give a damn about one fat man’s halfway point diminish my sense of accomplishment at what I’ve managed to do, because I didn’t do it for the world.
I did it for H4rpy, and I did it for me.
To my friends who know and DO care: I love you. I really do, and you know it.
To my friends who don’t care: I’m not stopping. I get that it’s an uncomfortable subject, and I will stop talking about it with you, because I DO respect you and I love you as well. I’m just sad that you’re not coming with me anymore.
I’m sad I’m going to have to leave some people behind with the other 125 pounds of junk weight as I blast off from the moon and head home. There’s still danger and my mission can still fail, but in a way, the hardest part is over. Even if I crash and burn, I’ll still land.
I may not have walked on the moon, but for a little while today, I felt like I could have. I’m never going to let myself forget that feeling.