losing weight, gaining perspective

I haven’t widely publicized my involvement in a Biggest Loser contest at Hope Community Church. Frankly, I never wanted to make a big deal out of it because I don’t like drawing too much attention to myself.

Okay, that’s a lie. I love attention. I also love looking like I didn’t want the attention – you know, so you think I’m very humble and modest, not some sick and twisted narcissist. Who would do that?

I digress.

Seriously, Elisa didn’t want me to draw much attention to the whole contest. She said, “Let the results speak for themselves.” (Naturally, she was right, as she is prone to being, so I obliged by keeping it under wraps.)

Of course, that implied that I would, in fact, achieve results that I would want to speak for themselves. It’s a good thing I have some stubborn, competitive German genes in me. Mix a weight loss contest with a financial reward and the handschuhes (German for “gloves”) come off.

On September 30th, I embarked on a weight-loss-get-fit campaign that was done all in the name of winning. I figured that I’d bust my butt for three months, drop some pounds, win, then go back to life as I knew it.

I got on the South Beach Diet.

I stopped eating bread.

I started eating string cheese again (pulled the lunchbox staple out of retirement, where is has lounged since I finished fourth grade).

I joined a gym – even hired a personal trainer for a few weeks.

I was doing all the right things with all the wrong motivation; remember this was all about winning and then getting back to the business of being Derek Sisterhen – potato chips, cookies, and all.

But something sad happened about 36 hours into the Biggest Loser contest: I fell over at the gym.

Just a little bit.

I was trying to pick myself up off a mat after the trainer chucked an eight-pound medicine ball at me a few times. I put my left hand down on the mat to push myself up, my locked elbow gave way for just a second, and my rear end thudded the two or three inches back to earth.

The prideful, stubborn, competitive German in me swelled – like an airbag in a car crash – to help me cover the little botch; then the humbled, embarrassed part of me kept darting glances to see if anyone else saw it happen.

That was sad.

I couldn’t handle the physical demands of what – when I look back now – wasn’t that difficult of a workout.

So, about 37 hours after I started the Biggest Loser contest, I was looking at the guy in my bathroom mirror and thinking about what I really was out to accomplish.

The last three months have afforded me much in the way of perspective. Here’s what I’ve learned:

Looks can be deceiving.

All throughout the last three months I’ve heard from friends and family, “Derek, you don’t have much weight to lose.”

Wrong. At the outset of the contest I was about 20 pounds over my ideal weight for my height.

Where did I keep it all, you ask? In my face, my waist, my butt, and legs. The last three made it pretty easy to conceal from the public (except on Naked Tuesdays, but that’s another post for another day). (Just kidding, there’s no such thing as Naked Tuesdays, but I probably got your mind wandering).

Something I realized through this time is the pervasive amount of relativity in physical health. Basically, we love comparing ourselves to others. I see this happen all the time with people who seek my assistance for their finances (i.e. keeping up with The Joneses), but never expected to see it so closely paralleled in fitness.

It’s easy to say, “I might not be at my ideal weight, but I look better than a lot of others my height,” or, “I’m only classified as ‘overweight’, not ‘obese’.”

I wonder if, when everyone was telling me I didn’t have any weight to lose, they weren’t just comparing me to the others they engage with daily. If one-third of Americans are obese, and the population tagged “overweight” is continuing to grow, it’s easy to say someone marginally overweight doesn’t have any to lose.

Heck, by this fitness theory of relativity you could say I was even underweight, comparatively speaking. Truth is, I was overweight.

Overweight = overweight. Pretty simple math.

And looks can certainly be deceiving in how we conceal the problem and how our problem compares to the problems of others.

I don’t know what I eat.

But I like it.

The personal trainer challenged me to keep a food log for the first few days of the challenge. At that point I was already working Phase 1 of the South Beach Diet, but it was still eye-opening to dissect the foods I ate down to the proteins, carbohydrates, fats, and calories.

The food log felt to me like how I imagine spending logs feel to many of you: painful, jarring, embarrassing, and all the while humorous.

Elisa and I started to compare our new nutrition regimen to our old one. A little audit of our pantry revealed many processed foods laced with sugars and unhealthy carbohydrates. We never would’ve guessed; we thought we were savvy, healthy grocery shoppers. (Check out Eat This, Not That if you’d like to blow your mind about the foods you eat.)

So, we figured we should evict some things.

Now, for those of you who’ve read Get Naked, you know that I’m a saver. The idea of throwing away perfectly – hmm…I can’t say “perfectly good” here because we know the food is definitely not good; okay, I think I got it… – perfectly purchased food just doesn’t gel in my brain.

But this was different. I saw two options: 1) We throw the food away and it’s considered “wasted money”; 2) We keep (and eat) the food, the money is still spent, and now we have to pay for it again by feeling lethargic and not liking the view in the bathroom mirror.

Out came the trash bag.

Don’t get me wrong about my new eating habits. I’m not one of these holier-than-thou cuisine crusaders who looks at you judgmentally because you like to eat Krispy Kreme donuts or love a loaded baked potato. I like those things, too.

I’m also not going vegan or anything absurd like that. (Derek apologizes for any offense to the vegan or vegetarian communities. He is a big fan of humus and pita chips and would love you to read Get Naked, too.)

Here’s what’s interesting about disconnecting from your regular diet: You lose the appetite for the junk food. We we’re very intentional about replacing the processed foods we used to eat with nutritious foods that taste great.

Like sweet potatoes. I discovered that I actually enjoy sweet potatoes more than Yukon Gold, Russet, Klondike Rose or any other version of a potato (potatoes have great names). Elisa makes some killer baked sweet potato fries with a touch of olive oil; que magnifique!

I didn’t think it was possible, but now baked sweet potato fries are a little more appetizing than a Krispy Kreme donut. Guess I won’t be able to participate in the Krispy Kreme Challenge.

I’ll hold out for a Sweet Potato Challenge.

I need sleep.

This one was pretty easy to figure out after back-to-back morning trips to the gym. Peeling the mattress from my back used to be about as fun as peeling Peruvian Blue potatoes.

I really don’t know how I made it through college, staying up until 3:00 am and then running off to eight o’clock classes. Today, it appears I need at least 7.5 hours of sleep to function well the next day. Problem was, Elisa and I were staying up until midnight most nights.

Now, I get up around 6:30 each morning to make it to the gym just before 7:00 am. It’s the best way to start the day. I feel like I’ve already accomplished something, it keeps my energy up, and – surprise – I’m usually exhausted around 10:00 pm, which means I’m getting the sleep I need to get.

By the way, research shows that adults need between 7 and 9 hours of sleep each night. You’re thinking, “How can I do that and fit everything else in?”

Well, you might be like me…

I waste a lot of time.

Yikes! That sounds harsh, doesn’t it? It’s true.

With all the advances we’ve made as human beings in managing our lives into little electronic devices that allow us to view the Doppler weather radar, text our mama, and even catch the market recap (for us nerds, I’m loving the CNBC Real Time App), I still have trouble making my 24-hour day really count.

Probably the biggest excuse for not fitting regular exercise into my life was that I didn’t have enough time. Yet, I would spend a couple hours each night watching movies or TV shows on DVD (we’re weird, off-the-grid types: We don’t have cable TV).

I can’t go workout! That would interrupt my stories! I would shout to myself when I felt a little convicted.

I’m not alone, though, am I? I was teaching a class a few months ago about restoring financial balance to our lives. I asked the class what some of the reasons were that they didn’t control their finances like they desired. I appreciated the honest confession of one participant: “I don’t have enough time.”

Be careful what you say around me; I turned it into an entire Past Due Radio show.

Forcing myself out of bed in the morning to go to the gym meant I would wear out earlier in the evening. That meant I didn’t have the same kind of time to veg in front of the tube. That also meant that I had to ask myself if what I was vegging in front of was a “worthwhile pursuit.” (And when I said “worthwhile pursuit” in my head, I heard my mother’s voice.)

Just like with our money, we must be exceptionally intentional with our time. Time is the ultimate finite resource and it should be managed well. Drawing boundaries, saying no a little more, these are things that keep me from being wasteful.

I can be a freak in the gym.

Earlier I spoke of my competitive nature. Turns out, I like going nuts on the rowing machine.

I know, I know. It’s just a rowing machine. But I use my imagination: What do Olympic rowers think when they’re training? Probably about the other rowers who are somewhere around the world putting their boat in the water or getting on a machine for a workout.

I don’t even know any other rowers (my sister was on the crew team in college; she’s since hung up her oars), but I beat them all!

My personal trainer would say, “Jump up and down on that box for the next 60 seconds.” At the end, with my legs quivering from the abuse, I’d be panting and looking around at the people on the elliptical machines.

I’d think, You like that, don’t you? Your NordicTrak-that-ate-a-bicycle is real cute and all, but I just owned this box!

Once my sessions with the trainer were complete, I found myself constantly trying to outdo my previous best on any particular workout.

Muscles would burn.

Sweat would pour.

Legs would wobble.

I realized that I’m physically capable of WAY more than I thought possible. The confidence boost that comes from breaking through barriers – whether financial (by paying off that old credit card), or professional (working toward a career you love), or physical (rowing 5,000 meters in under 23 minutes) – fuels the fire.

So, I’m going to run my first 10k in Charleston, SC – the Cooper River Bridge Run – on April 2nd. Time to take the gym freak outside and have some fun accomplishing something I really never envisioned doing.

I serve Elisa (and our family and friends) with my physical health.

Life isn’t only about me.

I talk about it all over the place in Get Naked, but didn’t think I’d have the same realization while watching what I was eating and working up a sweat at the gym.

Elisa’s counting on me to take initiative and lead our family. Showing her that I’m committed to staying healthy is really reinforcing that I’m committed to her. (Check out my previous post “Serve Your Spouse With Sit-ups”).

I have amazing friends and a family that loves me dearly. I can serve them by keeping myself healthy and ready to encourage them or provide help, if I can. The conversations this journey has generated with people I care about have been fantastic.

If my transformation inspires any of them to get out there and start their own journey, the ripple effect could be huge.

The bottom line.

On September 30th, 2010, I weighed in at 193.7 pounds and had my body fat measured at 18%. By January 4th, 2011, I had lost 28.5 pounds to weight out at 165.2 pounds and body fat of under 10%. The starting Body Mass Index (BMI) was 27; I finished at 23.

That 165.2 pound figure is what I weighed when I graduated high school.

As for the Biggest Loser contest, I came in 2nd place behind a great friend of mine who ripped off over 41 pounds!

What started as a contest all about winning really did become a journey about losing, as cliché as that might sound. Sure, I lost the weight, but I also lost my comfort zone in order to get reacquainted with what a truly healthy body feels like.

I lost some excuses.

And with the right kind of motivation now, I figure I’m just getting started.