The scale read 190.5 and I knew that it was time to act…

The scale read 190.5 and I knew that it was time to act…

Earlier that morning:

It was Sunday Nov 14th and I woke to the sounds of traffic and bustle on the streets of Arusha. Lying in the small concrete room I could feel the first hint of the heat of the day rising over the city. Outside was quieter than usual, less yelling and honking than the morning before, but that is Sunday in Tanzania. A majority of people were already in church replacing the shouting, honking and hawking with strains of praise and jubilance. The tradeoff in price for the hostel we were staying in was found in the toilet/shower stalls in the communal bathroom, the kind of place you picture picking up some horrid foot fungus, or perhaps something crawling up out of the shower drain to surprise you. Later that day we would be arriving in Moshi and settling into our house; a house with proper showers, clean and unlikely to infect me with some flesh eating disease. With this in mind I chose to disdain the morning shower in favor of later comforts.

Fast forward 8 hours, 5+ km of walking, a 2 hour bus ride, 1 zombie dog, another 1.5 km walk and we arrived home. I was hot, sweaty, dirty, and desperately in need of a nice cool shower. I briefly considered instead going for a run, something I had been promising myself I would begin doing regularly once we arrived in Moshi, but the fancy was fleeting, giving way instead to the allure of cool water cascading from above. Entering the bathroom I was pleasantly surprised to see that it was not only appointed with a clean tiled shower but also contained a digital scale.

One of my ‘goals’ in moving here was that it would provide an excellent framework, under which to lose weight. It is not like I was morbidly obese or terribly out of shape prior to coming, but let’s just say that there was significant room for improvement after a year of riding a school desk. My theory was that between the inevitable change in diet, the inevitable profuse sweating, a little more exercise in the form of regular walking and the occasional run, and finally a couple of bouts of Giardia, the weight would practically lose itself.

As I exited the shower and eyed the scale, I had been in Tanzania for 2 weeks, sufficient time to affect at least a slight favorable course correction in my girth. Curious to see how those weeks had affected me I zeroed the scale and stepped on. The digital display spun for a couple of seconds building suspense and then offered up its take on my situation. 190.5 lbs it read. 190.5?!! I was averaging around 186-187 before I left! Confused and frustrated I stepped off and re-zeroed the scale. Stepping back on I tried to think ‘light’ thoughts, pictures of clouds and balloons floating in front of my eyes. Again the display spun, taking its time, in no hurry to assuage my tension. 190.5 lbs. The scale could not be confused by my mental trickery and held steadfastly to its position.

I considered my current state. Yes I had just arrived after a long day of walking and travel. Yes I had just showered and was feeling clean for the first time in a few days. Yes I was tired and just wanted to sit down, maybe read a book. Yes it was still pushing 30 C outside. But most importantly: yes, I did in fact weigh in at 190.5.

“Son of a bitch…” I muttered under my breath and stalked out of the bathroom.

45 minutes, 4~km, a couple buckets of sweat, and another shower later I was standing in the same spot looking down at my new nemesis. 4 km of running isn’t really all that much and logically ought not to have much overall effect on my body. There is, however, a strange near addictive quality to scales, it is nearly impossible not to check them whenever they are present. I had no real expectation of measurable accomplishment after that first run, but that seemed an irrelevant piece of information as I stepped back onto the scale. It simply had to be checked. The display spun it its already familiar way and read: 189.0. This time I was shocked in a different way. 1.5 lbs in 4 km? I know that I am a pretty sweaty guy when I exercise, and I know that that 1.5 lbs lost is really just retained water… but 1.5 lbs!!

A little context: picture a 500ml bottle of water. Got it? That bottle weighs basically 1 lb. Now picture 1.5 of those bottles full of water. That is how much sweat you have to produce to lose 1.5 lbs in retained water!! Now I don’t know about you but to me that seems like a lot of sweating.

Since then I have been increasing the frequency and distance on my runs. Two weeks later and I am now running almost every day and have my distance up to about 7 km over 40 min. I am aiming for 10km by the end of the week. I usually run in the evening when the heat of the day has dissipated a little and the sun is not so strong in the sky. A few times, however, I have run at midday and the difference in my endurance and the weight lost over the run changes significantly. My average 7 km run in the evening is good for about 2-2.5 lbs. That same run at midday yields upwards of 4lbs and makes me feel like a big ol bag of crap by the end. The good news is that at least some of that weight is staying off. The morning after my first run, unsurprisingly, I weighed back in at 190.5 lbs. This morning, however, I weighed in at only 183.0 and I have seen my weight as low as 181.5 on Sunday after another midday excursion.

Moral of the story? If you are feeling fat go running? I don’t know, why does there have to be a moral?