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I’m fat. I was really fat when I was a kid. Then I stopped eating for two and started walking a lot. I lived in Boston, a great city for walking. I walked everywhere, even when the train was more convenient.
I enjoyed exploring my city in a way that commuters and tourists seldom did. I walked downtown, pushing past rich old snobs who were on their way home from another day of selling their souls to make a Mercedes payment. I walked by Berkley College of Music, giving the eye to the “punk rock kids” who I knew were the sons and daughters of the soul selling Benz buyers. I walked in Dorchester, Roxbury, and Mattapan where it supposedly wasn’t safe for an Irish kid (my family and I have lived in all three neighborhoods without much incident). I walked, and walked, and walked, and I was skinny. Then I moved to Maine. For a while, I stayed in shape. I ate well, and I assumed that would suffice. Well, you know what they say about making assumptions. After about a year, I noticed that I was rather plump. It didn't seem as if I gained weight gradually. It was as if I went to bed Sunday night looking good, feeling confident about myself, really had the world by the short hairs... but when Monday morning arrived, my world of narcissism came crashing down around me: I was a lard ass. I had feared that fat may have been planning a sneak attack. It was time for me to counter with long hours at the gym, organic soy based food products, and a strict eating regimen. I would eat six small meals a day, drink plenty of water in between eating, and I certainly would never, ever under any circumstances eat anything after eight p.m.. Well, wouldn’t you know it, good intentions are often times just that. It turns out that I despise the treadmill, the elliptical machine, and the exercise bike. That does not leave much in the way of weight loss exercises. I love lifting weights, unfortunately no matter how big your muscles are they won’t make a fat gut anymore attractive. I am also not too fond of soy or tofu or the like. As far as eating six small meals a day, that turned out to be fairly difficult due to living in the real world and having a real world job with a real world boss who did not like me abandoning my real world duties every few hours to eat. I needed a new strategy. I looked for a beer-league softball team but had no luck. I didn’t really know that many people in my area so organizing basketball or football games was pretty much out of the question. One time I convinced a really fat guy I worked with to play a game of one on one basketball but he got tired and quit after ten minutes. It occurred to me that the only sport people in Maine seemed to be interested in was Nascar. I was running out of options. I could swim at the Y, but the cost of back waxing that I would require on a weekly basis would ruin me financially. I could get into tennis but I don’t know any rich people with whom I could play. I needed to find something that was physically challenging yet fun enough to keep me interested. Then I stumbled upon my answer, literally. A few months ago I was walking around Number One Pond in beautiful Sanford, ME when I saw a sign that said, “Mousam Way Trail”. I decided I would venture into the woods. I wasn’t much of a nature lover and I thought that I would prefer strolling a city block to walking in the woods. I mean, what could possibly be of any interest in there? This was Sanford, ME we were talking about, not Yellow Stone. But, I walked anyway. About a mile into the 3 mile trail I tripped over a tree root and fell forward, breaking my fall just in time to avoid smashing my face on a rock. As I was getting up I saw a black snake, about a foot and a half long, slithering away from the rock that almost caused my untimely demise. I’m sure it was just simple dumb luck but it seemed like divine intervention at the time. I was excited about spotting my new serpent friend. I have been fascinated by snakes since I was a child. I hoped to find the snake again. I didn’t, but it was enough to get me to go back to the trail about a week or so later to see what else I might find. My girlfriend and I began walking the trail frequently, sometimes spotting different birds or snakes, other times finding nothing more than mosquitoes. While it made the hike more fun to see animals or evidence of their presence, it was always nice just to slip into the woods that could have been anywhere in the world if you didn’t know any better. This certainly met all my criteria for acceptable exercise; it was fun, free, and, best of all, every trip promised to be different from the last. As I write this, my feet feel like they are on fire. I am in a hotel room in Bar Harbor, ME. Today, my girlfriend and I hiked up the side of a mountain. At first we weren’t sure if we were up to the challenge; we recently quit smoking and we had already hiked around Jordan Pond, a three mile trek. We also had reservations about the intermediate skill level of the trail as we had not done anything even remotely difficult in all of our wanderings through the wilds of Sanford. After careful speculation as to our physical capabilities and fortitude of our lungs, we decided that we could indeed make the three quarter mile up-hill journey to the summit. Besides, surely someone would come to our aid in the event that we went into coughing fits, hacking up 10 years worth of tar while trying to walk off charlie-horses. As it turns out, we made a great decision. There were no coughing fits, not one muscle cramp, and no terrifying knife edge cliffs to navigate. It only took about twenty five minutes to reach the eight hundred foot peak but we may as well have climbed Everest. It felt great to know that we had the option of getting in the car and driving to a nice, air conditioned restaurant to mow down on cheese burgers or fried sea food platters, but we hadn’t. We had decided that we could do something that we ordinarily wouldn’t have the opportunity to do. The view from the top was well worth the pain I feel in my feet now. Instead of cigarettes taking my breath away, it was the sight of lakes, mountains and ocean as far as the eye could see. We saw hawks soaring over our heads. We saw Mt. Katahdin a hundred miles away. We saw colors in the trees and waters, the clouds, and the big sky that no camera could ever truly capture for all time. We saw... an old guy? Yes, there he was, coming up the trail that we had just conquered, a man of about seventy looking only slightly more sweaty and out of breath than I was. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t Everest or even Katahdin, but the personal satisfaction that it gave me is what mattered most. I know that from now on, I won’t shy away from a challenge, whether it be physical or otherwise. I can see myself tackling small mountains all over the world, along side the elderly. In all seriousness, I look forward with great anticipation to exploring New England and beyond by hiking its’ trails. I used to think that you had to have boat loads of money and a vacation home on Martha's Vineyard to really live it up. I know better now. I have discovered a new passion that will not only bring me happiness and a feeling of accomplishment but also health. With all of the personally destructive things I have done in search of a good time, it’s comforting to find contentment in such a simple activity. By seeking out a fun way to stay fit I have become a nature enthusiast, but fear not, I will continue to bathe regularly and I will not be sporting a shaggy beard any time soon. |
