Some pretty big news that directly affects me happened in my corner of the world last week.
Yep, In-N-Out Burger opened up a new restaurant by my house!
OK, that wasn't THE big news. And it'd be much cooler had I not recently jumped back on the healthy-eating bandwagon.
The palate paradise's grand opening is ironic, considering what else happened on its debut last Wednesday.
That's also the day I signed up to do an Ironman triathlon.
The admittedly insane triple feature includes a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride and one of those 26.2-mile marathons.
Back-to-back-to-back.
All within 17 hours.
No motorized engines allowed.
Preferably without dying.
And if you're wondering, this column really is being written by the same currently morbidly obese man who lost all motivation, self-control and willpower while gaining 80-plus pounds from spring 2009 to spring 2010.
Which raises some valid questions:
1) "WHAT IN THE HECK AM I THINKING!?!"
2) As my friend Heidi asked: "Why would you put yourself through that kind of torture?"
3) The big one many people are probably (and understandably) wondering: "What should we serve at your funeral luncheon?" Oh yeah, and, "Can Jody really do it?!"
The quick answers:
1) Kinda thinking about In-N-Out burgers, shakes and fries, honestly.
2) To be able to sing along with Black Sabbath, Robert Downey Jr. and my superhero-worshipping son, Ethan, "I am Ironman!"
3) Funeral/couch potatoes, of course.
The real answers aren't quite so concise or goof-offish.
My recent massive weight gain has been an eye-opening experience for me. I was there, knocking on the door of the success-story promised land. I made it to the 190s after an all-time-high weight of 371 pounds. I was living an active lifestyle, sporting non-XL clothes and living and loving life. Then I let that slip away, slowly but surely.
It was demoralizing.
But thanks to a series of events — including a ton of soul-searching and watching my wife run in her first 5K — I decided that my life needed to change.
For good. And NOW!
The realization that I've chosen to be not-so-pleasantly plump most of my adult life through my choices and actions has resonated with me lately. It's my choice: Do I want to be fit or fat? A role model or a bad example? Too sexy for this shirt or too many Xs on this shirt?
The past couple of years training for and participating in triathlons helped boost my health and fitness levels (prior to my recent fall). Watching a video clip — all of 30 seconds long — of my friend Cindi approach and reach the finish line of an Ironman race flipped on the light switch in my head. BRIGHTLY!
Over the next couple of days, some other friends signed up to do an Ironman race, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. I even shocked my wife by thinking about it out loud:
How amazing and awesome would it be to commit myself to a life-changing process of going from where I am now (100-plus pounds overweight, out of shape, dissatisfied with the direction of my life, etc.) to faithfully work and train enough so I would be prepared at the starting line?
Eventually crossing that finish line and hearing, "Jody Genessy, you are an IRONMAN!" would simply be the cherry on top.
Just imagine how I would feel, what I'd look like, who I might become, if I were to follow through on this yearlong journey and challenge.
What lessons might I learn that would help me in life overall and in my battle against the bulge? What kind of an example might I set for my children? Who, besides myself, could I perhaps inspire to get up and go for a goal?
I used to joke that even doing small triathlons seemed as impossible for me as jumping up and touching the moon. But I did that. Using that analogy, I high-fived the man on the moon 11 times in the past two years.
Why not shoot for the stars this time?
Gives me the chills just thinking about it. Makes me want to hop off my comfy chair and run 15 miles right now. OK, not really, but hopefully someday soon.
This takes me back to something my dad said to me not long before he died seven years ago. Big Tom was a large dude and was miserable because of it. While feeling all sorts of discomfort and pain, my hero looked at me and said: "Don't let this happen to you."
I want to be able to look at my kids — or anyone really — and share a different message about my experience. I'd love to tell them, "DO make this happen to you!"
To get to that point in the next 11 months, I must lose a bunch of weight (hopefully about 80-100 pounds). I'm working on that. I've also got to build up my fitness base to even think about beginning my 20-week Ironman training program in February. I'm working on that, too.
It's an enormous challenge, but that's what is so enticing about it. Is it crazy? Sure is. But it's a crazy I want to attempt.
Torture? That's what I've been doing to my body by pigging out, plumping up, being lax and lazy.
But can I actually do a 2.4-mile swim, a 112-mile bike ride and a marathon in succession on that summer day in Coeur d'Alene, Idaho?
Right now I couldn't, that's for sure. It took all I could muster to jog/walk/waddle the Deseret News 10K last Saturday. I get pooped after swimming a few laps. And it takes a whole lot of work to move my 265-pound body around on my bike.
But my heart, mind, wife, family and friends are on board, and I have a plan to get my body prepared, too.
It's going to be the biggest physical and mental challenge of my life, but I'm going to make it happen.
That's bad news for the new In-N-Out in town.
I won't be visiting it until after I become an Ironman on June 26, 2011.
Sports writer Jody Genessy chronicles his weight-loss/fitness/Insaneman adventures in this column every other Thursday.
E-mail: jody@desnews.com