Huffington Magazine Issue 54 | Page 75

GETTY IMAGES/FSTOP Exit big deal. Just a simple case of strep. What was a big deal was when I got on the scale and the number said 253. I have no memory of what the doctor said after that. To be fair, I’m a big guy. At 6’4”, I was built to hunt down large, angry beasts and protect my tribe. But when I was running, I weighed less than two hundred pounds. My fighting weight is 205. That night I asked my wife why she didn’t say anything. She said, “I didn’t want to make you feel bad, and you know I love you no matter what you look like.” No matter what I look like? Had I become her worn, but wellloved stuffed animal that stayed in the closet because it brought back fond memories, but was too shabby to leave in plain sight? I started imagining what 50 pounds would look like as a mound of ground beef or a stack of American cheese. I calculated the number of martinis it would take to put on 40 pounds. The answer: more than a thousand. And worse, the body compensates for eating or drinking a little more at first, so the answer over the years is thousands. Then I asked the simple question: Why? What had happened that I STRESS LESS HUFFINGTON 06.23.13 Working 60 hours, ٝ[