Casman Blog

It’s been one year. This time last year, I was playing in my second men’s league soccer game in a long time, feeling better than the week before, ever hopeful that this time I’d stick with it. That is, get in shape, eat well, play hockeysoccerhikesailingmarathoningultimatelacrosse regularly. You get the idea.

The pace of the game was slower, I was more confident. I do love soccer after all. We were ahead. Middle field and I’m sprinting for the ball. I hear — or feel — this deep, sickening pop in my left ankle. No one near me. I had just been leaning deep into the sprint trying to push forward quickly.

Getting injured never really occurred to me.

Turns out, it’s a 100% rupture of the Achilles. Sometimes, with some people, it “just happens.” Fighting back feelings of failure and decrepitude, I did surgery April 24th, 2008. I had a black boot to wear for protection, but couldn’t even put any weight on the foot for a solid two months, limited walking with crutches for another two months after that. Rehabilitation was helped by extremely sexy trainers but progress was incremental.

But this was a re-start. A clean slate. No more voice in the back of my head that I should be in better shape, that a real man would already be out there doing things, conquering the world. No, the injury completely silenced those painfully and unhelpful thoughts. In its place, I was able to feel great about each little victory, each little improvement. I built on them.

I faced facts. As embarrassing as it was, I wanted to lose weight. Yea, I wanted to run another marathon, and yea I wanted to play a lot of hockey, maybe on some sort of competitive level, and, and… But I really wanted to be lean and mean. And I knew the formula. Run four times a week. Anything over three miles per means that I would steadily lose weight. I pulled out the calendar at the end of August. 211lbs.

All you have to do it set yourself up to win. Small sized goals feed into medium sized goals which lead into big ones. Do the four runs a week. Lose one pound a week. Measure on Saturdays. Repeat.

It’s one year later. Nine months of running, eating well, and not giving up. I’m 164lbs and none of my clothes fit. I’m in such a groove it’s hard to imagine. 47lbs lost? That’s a whole suitcase of weight. That’s 22% of my body weight. That’s… hard to believe, that’s what that is.

A new start is worth a lot. A year later and I can hardly believe how much.