About two hours ago I was sitting in the dentist’s chair, having my normal six-month check-up and teeth cleaning. I’m new to this office, so no one knows anything about me, my background or what I do. While they know I was referred by a co-worker, and that I’m a graphic designer, they have no knowledge of my past, my weight loss journey, or how hard I’ve worked to become the man I am today.
My hygienist, Becky, was talking with me about what I do in my extra time and I told her I liked to read and run. She, too, loves to do both of these things, so we started talking about the books we’ve been reading. Last night I finished Ali Vincent’s (who was the first female Biggest Loser) book “Believe It, Be It” and I generally enjoyed every aspect of the read. Talking about The Biggest Loser automatically launched into a discussion about health and wellness, and the constant struggle most people have to maintain their weight loss when they’re at their goal.
The whole time we were having this discussion I was arguing with myself as to whether or not I should say anything to Becky about my own journey and the things that have filled my experiences the last two years. But the more I considered the idea, I decided not to. This life that I live is the only one I know how to live, and the things that I’ve been blessed to do to change my life are merely notches in my belt. Losing 200+ lbs does not define who I am—It has helped me rediscover who I am, to reach for the huge goals that I never thought possible—but the guy who could eat an entire large pizza if he wanted to is still buried deep within my being.
So I find myself being a bit conflicted now. This new life that I’ve embraced is wonderful. I feel better than I’ve ever felt, I weigh less than I ever remember weighing, but I don’t always want to be the guy who used to be morbidly obese. I’m entering a new time in life, unafraid of what’s ahead, and armed with the confidence that no matter what challenges arise, I’ll be victorious, because the guy who tipped the scales at more than 460 lbs is the same guy who now weighs nearly half that.
As I’ve been thinking about embracing this new life whole heartedly, I did something crazy last week. I signed up to be a part of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training, and I’ve committed to running the Indianapolis Mini Marathon this May. That’s 13.1 miles! As a component of the training, and to be a part of the team, I have to raise donations that benefit LLS as they continue to work towards curing blood-born cancers. This organization really hits close to home as my own Dad is a survivor of non-hodgkin lymphoma, and it’s only through research, medicines and a lot of prayer that he’s been cancer-free for almost four years now. I’m running in his honor this May, and I can’t wait to greet him at the finish line, signifying the huge accomplishments both of us have made in our lives.
So here’s where I could really use some help… Up at the right side of the page is a ‘support me’ badge with a woman running with her arms up. If you are able, click that little button and make a donation as I set out to accomplish this huge task. I can’t tell you how grateful I would be if you could help me out, and better yet, you could be helping someone else say that their parent is now cancer-free, too. I’ll be reporting on my progress as I move ahead, but if you can give, it would mean the world to me and thousands of others affected by cancer across the globe.
I wish you all the best as you work towards a better you.
keep moving,
dane.
.:: DANE'S GETTING SKINNY ::. 