Juice and Juice Again?

I just want to let you know that I am not the 165-pound lean mean running machine in the picture on the right. I am also not the larger guy on the left, but rather somewhere in the middle, but that part of the story will come later.

At one time in my life, I was the guy in the picture on the left. I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis a few days before my 22nd birthday. I know, what a great gift, thank you universe. My daughter, the first of three children, was still a bun in the oven. I tried to take the news well, and perhaps even convinced myself that I did, but I know now that I began to spiral into depression. I mean at age 22, finding out that you have MS. I pretty much saw myself as useless. I despaired over what kind of a father I would be able to be. I knew that I wanted to be the dad that played with his kid outside.

My MS was very active for the first few years. My level of activity dropped. I spent a lot of time on steroids to halt MS flare-ups. My daughter came. I did the best I could. Another daughter came along, and the kids grew along with my size.

When my oldest daughter was around the age of four, we went on a trip to an amusement park with her mother’s family. I can’t remember the name of the ride, but it was something that my daughter, the little daredevil, picked out to ride. The line was long and the day was hot. We baked in the sun as we waited our turn for eight seconds of thrilling mechanical terror. Long sweat rings formed in the armpits and neck of my four XL t-shirt. Then finally it was our turn. My daughter was literally jumping up and down with excitement as the pimple-faced teen came over and moved the bar allowing us to climb aboard, She picked out a spot, and I pulled the metal shoulder bar down over her head until it clicked, securing her. Then I pulled mine down as well, or I should say I tried. Houston we have a problem. The bar wouldn’t go all the way down, and why? My large gut was holding it back from clicking into position. I tried time after time. The ride filled. Sweat poured down my chubby, stubbly, sunburned cheeks and forehead. It was no use. I was just too large, just too fat to fit. By this point, I was becoming quite a spectacle. I could feel the eyes of the people already safely in their spots setting on me. I heard a few kids snickering. The pimply-faced teen came over and attempted to latch me in, but he had the same luck as me. Finally, he gave up. I nodded and he unbuckled my daughter. Together we walked my walk of shame. That was the most embarrassed I have ever been. I felt so much shame having to explain to my daughter why we couldn't do the ride she had wanted to do so badly. She just smiled and said, “it’s okay, Daddy.” But it wasn’t, and I vowed then to never let her down like that again.

I would like to tell you that it was just that easy. Maybe share with you a Rocky Balboa like training montage. Maybe "Eye of the Tiger" blasting over the video of me sweating and shrinking, but I can’t because that didn’t happen right away. I tried so many different diets and failed every time. Years passed. My relationship with my daughters’ mother ended. I fell in love really for the first time, not counting the first time I saw eachh of my three children. The new lady in my life and I began to talk about our future. We talked about marriage and more children. I knew I wanted to get healthier, but still didn’t know how to get there. Then I saw a documentary that would change my life. The film, Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead by Joe Cross gave me hope for the first time in a long time. The film followed Joe Cross, and then Phil Staples as the both juiced, lost weight, and cured themselves of an autoimmune disease. Within an hour of finishing the film, I was in the grocery store loading up on fruit and veggies. I started my own fast but doing smoothies, because I didn’t have a juicer.

In the first week, I was down 15 pounds. I was hooked. I did four smoothies a day, water, and nothing else. I walked eight to twelve miles almost every day. The weight melted off of me. Between spring and the end of June, I lost around fifty pounds. I had to have my suit taken up three times before the wedding. The week before, and the week after, my honeymoon, I ate but kept it healthy. For the most part, I ate only the same stuff that I had been making green smoothies out of. My walking progressed to running.

One morning, while out running, I met a man that told me about a race series that we have here in my area. I decided that I would give it a try. A few weeks later I ran my first 5k. I finished first in my age group, and in the top ten overall. My time was right around 20 minutes. I had no idea if that was good or bad, My goal for the race was to not finish dead last.

I continued to run this race series. I won my age group and finished near the front of the pack in them. Then, on the one-year anniversary of me beginning this journey, I had a 5k. After I finished the race a man walked over to me. He said, “Sir I just have to tell you this. I was standing near the finish line, and I saw you come around the corner. I have seen you run before. I told my wife to 'look, there he comes, boy he is fast.' A little girl in front of me turned around smiling, and said 'yeah that’s my daddy.'" It was my oldest daughter, the same daughter I had to exit the ride with.

Tears ran down my face as I crouched, trying to gather myself as I reflected on how far I had come.

To be continued.