I hadn’t worked out in 28 years.

I graduated high school a skinny 5’11”, 135-pound basketball player who’d spent his childhood with a ridiculous metabolism. For many of us, things changed in college. Four years later, I’d gained 30 pounds. It wasn’t muscle. Those size 32 pants were a bit snug.

Fast forward nearly twenty years – around 2015 – I stopped checking my weight. A scale displaying 220+ pounds wasn’t something I wanted to see any more. I had more willpower for that than to make any meaningful lifestyle change, and my weight continued to increase.

In fact, the only real change I would make was cutting out soda and trying to walk the dogs more. From 2012-2017, I lost maybe 10-15 unremarkable pounds. I certainly didn’t feel any better, physically, mentally, or emotionally.

My wardrobe also remained the same: layers of bulky clothes to hide rolls, folds, and not-quite-manboobs. My shirts were XL and my pants were 38 waist. The collars of dress shirts were hangman’s knots and suitcoats were sausage casings.

Five years ago, in early 2019, I was invited to a class at a local boxing club. Did I mention I hadn’t worked out in 28 years? I found workouts boring. Or intimidating: I didn’t want to be the fat bald guy in a massive fitness center who was wheezing on a treadmill or struggling under weights. And if that were true, punching something for an hour was certainly far outside my interest, not to mention my personality.

Coming into the class, I didn’t expect anything to change, even if a small voice between my ears told me that I really, really needed an exercise routine. But I’d been ignoring that guidance my entire adult life.

In that first 1-hour class, I thought I was going to die.

Being raised in manly-man America, I pushed myself like a sprinter running a marathon. I sat down in shame at least twice, and I wouldn’t describe what I was doing as “punching”; it was mostly “floppy arm swings”.

Then it was finally over.

I loved it. I went back a week later, had the exact same experience, and joined the club.

The real telling point came after a few classes, when I attended the club alone for the first time. I generally avoid going to new social places by myself, even when it’s where my people are: comic book shops, game stores, movie theaters. I overcame my reluctance and my poor self-image, and proceeded to really enjoy myself. I didn’t need a friend. I just needed two gloves and a heavy bag.

I knew I was hooked.

If you recall, I mentioned cutting out soda and losing 10-15 pounds over five years. I lost more than that after boxing twice a week for a year.

Let’s skip ahead to today and my purpose for writing this post. In parallel with getting noticeable results – less doughiness, some muscle definition, rediscovering the importance of core strength – I stopped forcing myself to eat everything I was served, especially at restaurants which prided themselves on oversized portions (I was dishonorably kicked out of the Clean Plate Club). I began weighing myself again. There’s a quite a sense of pride to see that scale give you a lower number every couple weeks.

This week, it read 161.5. I’d lost nearly 65 pounds! In my wildest fantasies, I’d hoped to get down to 185.

Let’s go back to clothing. The pandemic coincided with this journey, so I hadn’t really been updating my wardrobe as my weight decreased. Why spend the money on work outfits while I’m mostly at home? During that time, I found that my favorite t-shirts seemed loose. My jeans bunched from a belt that couldn’t clench any tighter. XL clothing became L became M became S. Pants steadily shrank from 38 to 30.

When you see yourself every day, the change isn’t as noticeable, though you might be amazed when you compare the pants you used to wear to the ones you currently own. You might find that the bulky comfort shirt you relied on for years isn’t as appealing when it looks like a beach towel on you now.

Let me take a moment to mention some other changes. My self-confidence and energy are higher than they’ve ever been. I’m thinking clearer and I’m not mentally exhausted after a day of challenging work. I’m a better writer (he says, awkwardly connecting this post back to the purpose of this website), which means I’m producing a better book than I would have otherwise. With increased core strength, I’m more surefooted and I don’t need to push myself off the couch with a groan. I’ve almost completely stopped using my inhaler and my acid reflux meds. My blood pressure, cholesterol, and all other tests show I’m within normal limits. And as the awkward, dorky kid who’s experienced a lifetime of people looking at him with disdain, I’m pleased (and a little embarrassed) to see people looking at me for other reasons. Especially my adoring wife.

Finally, let’s talk about the club, Title Boxing in Lakeville. My purpose wasn’t to write an endorsement, but my story would be incomplete without one. In a place where I expected rejection, I received a more welcoming reception than anywhere I’ve been in my life. When Coach Tate and his team describe the club as a family, they mean every word and every action. This is really the reason I came back: they truly care about their members. If I’d had the opposite experience, if in that first class the fit people had looked down on me as the fat outsider who would never belong, I never would have attended a second session.

Today, as I celebrate losing 65 pounds and attending nearly 400 classes, I have one final purpose for writing this post. To encourage you to make that life change you’ve been putting off. Your physical, emotional, and mental well being will be better off, you’ll learn something new, and discover something about yourself.

Good luck with your writing and good luck with your transformation!

–Mike

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