Skimpy shorts are what dreams are made of

I just have one complaint about the “Ache Around the Lake,” a five-mile trek around Lake Lanier last Saturday.

No one told me how important aerodynamics were going to be.

What do I mean by that?

Well… All the skinny guys with paper thin, really short shorts were the ones who won the race.

What’s up with that? If I’d known I could’ve cracked the top 100 with some skimpy shorts and a zero percent fat count, I would have worked a little harder.

Awww… I’m just kidding. Well, maybe not.

If you were driving around Lake Lanier in all the mess Saturday, I was the guy standing on the side of the road with a sign that read, “Will work for piggyback ride.”

I was trying to hitch a ride from just about everyone. I used proper technique. I rubbed some dirt on my face, tore my clothes a little, and stuck my thumb out.

When someone would pass, I’d mumble, “Going my way?”

No 18-wheelers came along so I figured I’d just have to finish the race with my own two feet.

That was a daunting idea. After all, my legs ached, my back hurt, I felt like a pregnant woman in the heart of the Sahara Desert.

It was just me, my belly, and my own two wheels. If I’d thought about it beforehand, I would’ve come over the night before and hid a bicycle in the bushes. I could’ve rode it most of the way and maybe would’ve avoided my 127th place finish.

I started out pretty good. I walked a little way and then I decided to run. I ran a little, mostly downhill, and then walked a little, mostly uphill.

Then came the turning point in my race. It’s something coaches talk about all the time. It’s something you’re not supposed to do in sports.

I abandoned my strategy for one second. I claim temporary insanity as a defense.
For some reason, I had the bright idea that maybe I should try running up a hill. For this story, let’s just call this hill, “The Downfall Hill.”

I took the “Downfall Hill” running. After about five or six steps, I decided I’d better stop. Actually, I was forced to stop because I felt like I was in space without a space suit. For some reason, all the oxygen decided to leave my body at once.

From that point on, I was in trouble.

Just about everyone in the race passed me. I’m creeping along like I’m driving a broken down Pinto. Everyone else is driving by me like they’re in a Corvette.

Even a lady pushing a baby stroller came flying by me. I’m not kidding. I got beaten by a woman pushing a stroller.

No offense, ladies. It’s just that I was like a walking zombie out there.

The good news is that it didn’t matter to me. The only thing that mattered was that I finished. That race was my mountain. I’m not going to lie. I was dreading it. I didn’t really want to do it. When Saturday finally came, I was wishing I hadn’t made the commitment.

None of that stopped me, though. I was diligent in my efforts. I wasn’t going to quit.

Who cares that my feet were killing me? Who cares that my back was begging me to sit down and call someone for help?

I didn’t care.

The only thing I cared about was finishing that race and I did. I may not have been as aerodynamic as the guy who finished the race in 25 minutes, but I’m proud to say that I finished the race in one hour and 23 minutes.

The last time I walked Lake Lanier, it took me one hour and 48 minutes. I shaved 25 minutes off of my time. I’m proud of myself and this has motivated me to go forward.
I may not be the world’s greatest athlete and I may not be the world’s skinniest man, but I’m Joey Millwood.

I have a belly and I admit to it. Hopefully one day that belly will be gone and I can fit into some of those skimpy little underwear that some of those runners wore.

Maybe one day I will be aerodyanmic enough to run around Lake Lanier in 25 minutes.
O.K.… Probably not. But I have to dream, right?

I think a more realistic goal is to walk around the lake and be able to get up out of bed the next morning.

The main thing this race did was show me what I’m made of. It showed me that somewhere beneath this flabby chest and stomach is a heart. There is a heart that has the desire and the courage to do something I’ve never done before.

I dug down deep and found the will and the determination to do something that a year ago would’ve seemed impossible.

Running and walking around Lake Lanier may seem like a small dream to most, but to me it was something special. It was the fulfillment of a dream. I don’t care how small it seems, to me it was big.

I have to thank Katie Malone, who trained me for the race, because she has helped me through a lot of this. Her athletic wisdom has been invaluable to me.

It’s great that this race will be an annual event now. I just hope I can face it again next year.

Maybe then I’ll get into some of those skimpy shorts.

Now that is a dream that most people won’t want to see.

A race to believe in

Lake Lanier residents, I hope you’re reading this column. If you’re not, you’re probably going to be terrified come tomorrow morning.

The “Ache Around the Lake” is finally here and I’m dreading it. Between my second kidney stone of the year and an incredibly busy Fall sports season, I haven’t had a lot of time to train with Katie Malone. Sorry, Katie.

Either way, it’s time for all the runners, walkers, and in my case, crawlers, to get ready to make the trek around Lake Lanier to raise money for cancer.

But first, I need to warn the residents of Lake Lanier. I wouldn’t want to cause any heart attacks tomorrow morning.

If you happen to look out your window and see what looks like a beached whale flapping down your street, don’t be alarmed.

Avoid any phone calls to the local vets or PETA or whatever other place you might think of to call. That will be no whale flapping down your street.

It’ll be me.

If you don’t look out your window but you suddenly feel what seems to be an earthquake, don’t be alarmed.

That’ll just be me doing the fat dance.

I’m just kidding.

I’m really not as fat as I often portray myself. It’s just that self opinions are generally a lot harsher than reality.

You all know what I mean.

I look at myself in the mirror and I just know that I’m the fattest man on Earth. Then I turn on Jerry Springer and I realize that that is not the case.

In my mind, however, it doesn’t matter that there are people out there who weigh a lot more than I do. Those people don’t help my self esteem. Don’t get me wrong. I sympathize with anyone who is overweight, just as you might sympathize with me because I am still overweight.

The difference is that while I may be on your coffee table in the form of a newspaper, I am not a part of your reflection in the mirror.

The same here.

You are not in the reflection I see in my mirror. No one else is in that reflection.
It’s very symbolic if you think about it. Our journey to the mirror every morning or night is solitary. No matter what other people in the world look like, we are alone in our journey.

We need to be self-inspired.

Joe Fat Guy and Jill Fat Girl don’t lie in our beds at night, wishing that our bellies were a little smaller. It’s just us lying in our beds, perhaps with a husband or wife, of course, but really it’s just us.

The decision to change your waistline is your decision. While I have been a backslider in recent weeks, I have reaffirmed my faith and my commitment.

I decided that I need to be a little more diligent in my efforts to erase this thing I call a belly.

In case some of you have noticed, there have been some Joey sightings at Tryon Health and Fitness. Yes, that’s right. I’m back.

Tina Durbin was definitely a happy camper. It feels good to get back in the swing of doing things. I have been hitting the treadmill pretty good. Just in case you’re wondering, I even have a name for my treadmill.

Charlie Treadmill is my friend. Hopefully, with some consistency, he’ll help me get this world championship belt that I call a belly out from around my waist.

It’s all about personal decisions people. That’s something that I have learned.

After I got a kidney stone, I just didn’t feel like getting into the gym or running around the track. It’s hard to motivate yourself when you just don’t feel like you can be motivated.

That’s the thing about this journey to healthiness and weight loss. It may come in flurries. It may come in spurts.

The key is to jump on the train when it comes through your town and ride for as long as you can.

The key is that you’ve got to ride the train for a little while. If you don’t, there won’t be any results.

Take me for example. I broke the cycle of not being motivated by forcing myself to go to the gym.

I’m thankful that my will allowed me to do that because now I’m motivated again. Sometimes it takes forcing yourself to do that.

While motivation may come in flurries and spurts, you need to use those to push yourself. Sometimes you need a reminder of what you want to do. Take a glance in the mirror. Jump on a treadmill. Sweat.

Whatever it is that breaks that cycle is what you need to do.

It’s important. For your life and your health, it is vital that you shed some pounds if you’re overweight.

This race on Saturday is a motivator for me. I’m going to get into this race and do the best that I can. I may not finish this at John Cash or Katie Malone speed, but I will finish it.

I will finish it because I believe I can finish it.

It’s that simple.

You just have to believe in yourself. Believe that you can change. Believe that you have the ability and the determination to work off those pounds.

Just a little diligence and commitment people.

That’s all I ask.

I won’t be doing the fat dance forever and You won’t either if you believe you won’t.

I promise.

Americans like us

There are those days in American history that invoke some of the most powerful feelings imaginable.

For my grandparents, it was Pearl Harbor. My grandfather, who served during World War II, would tear up as he talked about the “day that will live in infamy.”

For my parents, it was the day that JFK was assassinated. My parents were very young, but the death hovered over the heads of people heavily for the next two decades and some would argue that it still does today.

For my generation, it’s September 11th. It’s that moment of shock. That moment of denial. It’s that moment when we saw so many good, innocent Americans die.

We watched, in complete horror, as terrorists murdered people like us. They murdered Americans like us. Americans who were just going to work like so many others do around our nation.

Americans who were innocent.

While feelings of sadness overwhelm me, the anger hasn’t subsided.

When I see pictures and videos of Bin Laden huddling with the rest of the conspirators of 9-11, the anger boils over.

The rage of watching thousands of Americans die jumps back into my heart and soul. It’s a feeling that probably never will subside.

I remember sitting on my couch, watching our leader George W. Bush addressing workers and volunteers at Ground Zero.

“I hear you, the world hears you, and pretty soon the men that knocked down these buildings will hear you!”

Those were the words of our leader. He promised that he would take this war to the terrorists. He promised that we would fight this war in the terrorists’ back yard.

Unlike Bill Clinton before him, who sat back and watched Americans die all over the globe, Bush looked into the camera and told us that he would make a difference.

I’m here today to tell you that that promise was kept.

All of our comrades, both civilians and police and firemen, are being avenged.

The biggest, best country in the world is taking the war to Al Quaeda.

How many terrorists have we killed? How many terrorists have we captured? Those aren’t even the most important questions.

How many terrorist attacks have happened on U.S. soil since we set the war right on the doorsteps of Bin Laden’s house?

That’s the question.

September 11th taught us a valuable lesson. Unlike the attack in 1993 against the World Trade Center and the subsequent attacks against Americans in Africa and Saudi Arabia in the eight years prior to 9-11, we need to go after these terrorists.

They’re madmen.

If we don’t take the war to them, we lose the war. My heart goes out to all those families that had someone die in those towers five years ago.

It’s a sadness that I will not be able to shake for a million years. Just know that you’re getting justice.

Our president, our leader, has crippled these terrorist factions. This dose of justice may take a while to pan out, but we will run Al Quaeda and the terrorists out of Iraq. Thanks to a valiant effort by our military and our current administration, Iraq is no longer a house of terrorists.

September 11th is a day that will live forever in the hearts of Americans.

We must support our troops. We must never let the sadness fade. We must never let the anger fade. When we forget, the terrorists have won.