Joe Average Gets Fit

This post sets the stage. This is the story behind the madness.

I’m in my forties. I’ve been in more or less good health all my life with typical quirks such as allergies. After getting married, I started to gain about ten pounds a year for a number of years, then leveled off. I’ve been carrying quite a bit of extra poundage for a good ten years.

Because I’ve never had anything really undesirable like cancer, diabetes, etc., I’ve only gone to the doctor when there was something obviously wrong, like sizable quantities of skin missing from my body after crashing on my bike.

The last time I had a good enough case of road rash to see a doctor was last summer. While sitting there in the little waiting room with the RA when it happened. Out came the question, “What would I need to do to get a general checkup? I’ve not had that done since I was a teenager.” Well, the thought had crossed my mind on rare occasion over the years… but there I was, in torn clothing and caked with dirt and what was on my mind? A physical. The RA didn’t miss a beat, and told me to just come in anytime, fasting to ensure the blood work was accurate.

After getting patched up I did… nothing. My mind wasn’t there yet.

I finally did decide to go in early March. I was curious. Everything checked out normal in the office visit, and they sent a blood sample to the lab. A couple days later I got a call from the nurse who said that my cholesterol was high… way high… and that the doctor had a prescription for a statin for me. After six weeks I was to come back in and have the cholesterol re-checked.

Now, I generally avoid medication unless it’s really warranted, so I asked if I could talk to the doctor about it. She said the doctor was busy, but she’d leave a note for him.

The doctor never called back, and I never filled the prescription. I knew darned well what the problem was, after all. I was fat because I enjoyed stuffing my face with food, and I sit in front of a computer most of each day… the classic American fat guy.

After doing some reading on cholesterol, I made a determination. First, I’d like to live past tomorrow. In fact, I’d like to live until my body cries for mercy as I squeeze out the last ounce of enjoyment from my time on Earth. Second, high cholesterol doesn’t increase the odds of that happening. Third, since cholesterol levels are dominated by lifestyle (barring some freak genetic factor), I decided to perform an experiment, with myself as the guinea pig.

Hypothesis:
Not eating like a pig and moving my butt more will make a significant, positive impact on my cholesterol levels.

It may seem like a “well, duh” declaration, but if it is true, and I have a choice of what enters my body, and whether I move my butt, then why not perform the experiment?