So this morning I did something I have not done for almost ten years. This morning, I got out of bed, got dressed and went for a walk. Back in my heyday of training for the Marine Corps, I used to do this, only it was a run, not a walk. I blame the sickness that I'm fighting off as part of the reason I didn't run. Plus, I haven't done much exercise lately, and running would probably cause me to burst into flames and die. Since I can't disprove that, I decided not to take the risk.
Why would I go and do such a crazy thing you ask? Because of something that, as of yesterday, is seven months away. My wedding. Let me explain why this is motivating me.
Before I signed on with the Marines, I weighed a lot. To be honest, I looked like Free Willy with legs. When I went to enlist, I really didn't have a preference of which branch to go into. So I tried the Navy. They wanted me to lose the weight on my own and come back. Plus, after they reviewed my ASVAB test scores, they said I was eligible to take a test that I could not look at to study for, to see if I could qualify for their nuclear engineer program. If I failed the test (remember I can't see it to know what to study for) I would end up cleaning for four years. So I moved on.
The Army was the same way. I had to lose the weight by myself, and they recommended a diet that consisted of pretty much just cranberry juice, boiled chicken, and a daily vitamin. So I moved on. The Air Force didn't want me because of my grades. So I moved on.
Side Note: I was that kid in high school that got A's on every test, but never turned in his homework. The consequence of which was graduating with a 1.84 GPA. My ASVAB test scores were "amazing" according to the recruiters, but my GPA was all the Air Force really looked at. Back to the blog.
One visit to the Coast Guard office was all I needed to know it was more of a club than a branch of the military.
Side Note: Generally speaking, I like the Coast Guard guys, but my opinion of their most dangerous work is standing in the smoke of a drug burning. Sorry guys, but ya just don't have the reputation like the others do. (Damage Control guys/gals not included in the previous statement.)
So I tried my last option. The Marines. Now, I have relatives who've been in all the other branches, but of my immediate extended family, (aunts, uncles, cousins, etc) none had been in the Corps. The first thing that impressed me about them was that they actually had recruiters who weren't looking for a quick sale. They came over to the house, talked with me and my dad and stepmother, and even wanted to help me lose the weight. So I signed up, on the Delayed Entry Program.
And so began my recruitment in 1997. Yes, I know, in the first paragraph, I said something I hadn't done in almost ten years. It didn't take me 4 years in the delayed entry program. I was a Junior in high school, and the plan was to take Basic Training during the summer prior to my senior year, but that didn't happen. Here's what did happen.
In spring/summer of 1997, in the last month of school that year, I had a little accident. While helping the choir break down the stage, I had a 250 lbs stage riser fall onto my foot. I couldn't walk, and the doctor, certain of broken bones, put me on crutches for a week while the x-rays developed. As it turned out, all that happened was a big bruise on the top of my foot. That got my recruiter foaming at the mouth to get me in. You'd think he had found an indestructible person of something. My dad got super excited too, and the day for me to leave drew closer and closer. Then, on June 16th, Becky and my dad had a big fight, and left the house without making me breakfast.
Side Note: I was a spoiled kid. I had everything handed to me on a golden platter when I was with my dad. Also, a couple months before this, I had met this local Pastor's daughter and started going to her church, in the hopes that she would be like all the other Pastor's daughters I had read about in the Playboy's I had hidden under my mattress. Of course, as I understand things now, God was just getting me to go to church to hear His message. Back to the blog.
Now, I didn't really feel like making breakfast either, so I settled on the easiest thing I could find. Oatmeal. Of course, my culinary skills were limited to microwaves at the time, and the oatmeal turned out really bad. As I sat there eating partly burnt, really lumpy oatmeal, I reviewed my life as only a teenager could. Dramatically. I ended up giving my life to Jesus that morning, and asking Him into my life as Savior and Lord.
And the first thing he said to me was to stop the process of going into the Marines. For those of my dear readers who are not Christian, and for my dad at the time, an explanation of "God told me not to" sounds completely like chickening out. I understand that. Trust me, I really do. So when I told my dad this, he went a little ballistic. And for the week after that, I was cut off from going to church, talking to anyone from church, and not even allowed to have or read my Bible. I stuck to it though, because I knew it was right. God had said no, and I couldn't just ignore that.
Eventually, my dad relented, I can guess with help from my stepmother, and my Christian life started. My recruiter was not happy with me, but he said he understood, and life moved on. I didn't work out as much, I ate a little more than I should have here and there, and by 2000, I was overweight again.
The only difference was that God started putting the Marines back into my life. I had gone to college for a semester or two, had a miserable time, dropped out, moved to Kentucky to see about a girl (it didn't work out, though I met some awesome friends there), came back, and moved into a church member's basement. This particular church member just happened to be a Marine, and we would talk for a long time about Christianity and the Corps. Eventually I got inspired, and together with him, and one of my closest friend's little sister (I will have to blog about Jed sometime, he's been a big influence on my life, especially in those younger years) we began running and exercising together. She was training for the Navy though.
I moved back to my hometown after that, and got hooked into the local Marine recruiter, who agreed to help me lose the weight too. Once again, I found myself in the Delayed Entry Program, and working out with the recruiters and other recruits three to four times a week. We would even spend time over at the local Air Force base gym, working out, lifting weights, and sweating it out in the sauna. I went from Free Willy with legs to just a bit chubby in no time.
Then the big day came. I didn't eat anything for breakfast, only drank water, all to keep my weight down for the final test before I signed my contract. I was 2 pounds under the weight limit. Which was awesome. I had never been that skinny in my life (although my grade school photos tell otherwise, but I didn't care about my weight or lack thereof back then). So I was sworn in, and shipped out.
I'd love to tell you all about my time in the Marines (I was shipped home after only 4 months due to an injury) but I'll save that for another time. What I do want to point out from that time though, is that I lost more weight in the Corps. Despite the exercise, and all the wonderful (sarcasm) food, your body just can't keep up, and you end up losing a lot of muscle. That John Cena guy did NOT look like he does now when he was in the Corps. There's no way. Anyways, I left the Marines looking like a starved horse.
Side Note: I have a barrel chest, so with all that weight off, even through my shirts you could count my ribs. Not that I was unhealthy, it just looked that way. The official lowest weight I was at was 195 at the time. I was lean and mean coming out of the Corps. Back to the blog.
The plan after getting out of the Corps was to continue to workout, but without that Drill Instructor yelling in my ear to give my that spark of defiance and willpower, things quickly went...well, bigger. In the Marines, I could have downed two whole large pizzas, a side of bread sticks, two pitchers of soda, a gallon of ice cream, and lose 15 pounds. But without that constant workout and exercise, I wasn't losing the weight.
I ballooned back up in just under a year, and continued to do so since then. After I met Deanna, she expressed concern about my health.
Side Note: I want to make this very clear. She was not criticizing my weight, or my looks. Deanna loves me and cares about me, and wants to make sure we can actually spend our lives together. Her concern was about my health, not my appearance. We both understand that. Back to the blog.
Since then, I had a gym membership, that fell through, then we were doing some walking challenges, one we completed, the other is still in idle mode though. The point is that nothing I've tried to get back that spark of defiance and willpower has worked. Until this morning. When, after motivating myself with some old Marine Corps stuff, I was able to get up, get dressed, and go for a walk.
Granted it's not as easy as it was back then. I don't have someone to go with me. (Contrary to most people whom assume we live together, Deanna and I live on opposite sides of town). I don't have the drill instructor yelling in my ear. I don't have a goal of joining the finest fighting force in the world.
All I have is that spark of defiance and willpower. And this time, I'm not letting it go.
(Que dramatic music and fade into credits...)
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