How one little lap changed one fat man

For the last few weeks, all of you Millwood Maniacs have seen this lowly sports reporter at his worst.

You’ve seen me walking through the valley of a healthy soul. You’ve seen me crawl across the floor in order to get back up on the wagon.

Well, I’m here now to tell you that I about tipped the wagon over on Wednesday night. Don’t worry, that’s a good thing.

When I first started out again on this lonely walk down the Highway to Health, I was creeping around the track at Harmon Field. With Katie Malone’s help, I was hoping to change that.

I did my first trip around the track in three minutes and 31 seconds. Two weeks ago, I did four timed laps. The first three were actually under three minutes, but the last trip around was well over three minutes.

Needless to say, I was extremely disappointed that I couldn’t keep up my momentum.
That all changed on Wednesday. If you happened to be driving by Harmon Field around 7 p.m., you might have saw a blur running around the track.

That fat blur was this lowly sports reporter. Not only did I run my first three laps in less than three minutes, but on my final lap, I ran it in two minutes and six seconds.

That was not a mistake. You didn’t read that wrong. Two minutes and six seconds.
After I finally got my breath back and my legs didn’t feel like rubber, I thought I was going to jump out of my shoes. It was one of the most thrilling moments I’ve had in this journey of mine.

The thought that I ran the track that I thought I’d never tame in a little over two minutes was amazing.

So many afternoons, I’ve walked and run on that track. All I could think about was how the track looked like a big Krispy Kreme donut and I wanted to eat. The benches always looked like hotdog buns to me and the light poles looked like the hotdogs. So many of those afternoons, I left the track craving hotdogs.

That’s all changed now.

My two minutes of glory have changed me. No longer am I contemplating a concession speech, where I just submit to wallowing in my fatness.

No, readers, those days are long gone. What you see now is a rejuvenated sports writer. You see a sports writer who is ready to tame Lake Lanier on September 23. You see a sports writer who is tired of huffing and puffing on the sidelines of football games on Friday night.

What you see now is a sports writer baptized by the sweat that engulfs my fat body like an ocean.

Mission impossible now seems like mission possible.

Some of you may think I’m crazy. After all, how could one little lap change me? I’m still fat, aren’t I?

While the answer to that second question may be yes right at this moment, it won’t be down the road. It may be a little way down the road, but one day I will not be fat.

One day I will be skinny and able to walk among the crowds without bumping into everyone with my belly. One day, I will have to stop using my belly as a lunch tray for snacks during a movie. One day, I will be able to run without my man you-know-whats slapping me in the face.

I may be exaggerating a little, but you get my point.

My life changed on August 9, 2006. One little lap showed me that anything is possible. One little lap opened my eyes to a world that doesn’t include crying about a walk around Lake Lanier. One little lap touched my soul.

It may have had to dig through a lot of fat to get to my soul, but it did touch it.
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