Thursday, August 27, 2015

What does #8 mean?

This post is not what I was planning it to be. This was to be a detailed summary of keeping track of my steps for 42 days and comparing it to the 100+ coworkers in my company. The 690,000+ steps I walked put me 8th overall which would have won me a t-shirt that won't fit my 3X body. It would have been 2nd in my building out of about 40 people only less than someone who has ran a marathon but did not win any "team" prizes since two of his randomly assigned "teammates" ended up in the bottom 10.

I was going to compare steps on days at work and not working, mention that during the 5 days of Gencon, I took fewer steps than if I was working, wonder how many more steps I would have taken had I played in the 3 disc golf tournaments I didn't play, and most of all, I was going to wonder how an old, fat, broken down, arthritic man who takes medicine used in chemotherapy to manage his 24/7 pain could finish 8th.

Last Sunday, day 38, I walked about 4,000 steps to a place that has a wings special before 4PM. After placing my order, I emptied my pockets of my phone, Ipod, earpiece, and pedometer to make it more comfortable to eat. The pedometer fell to the floor and the display became illegible. I decided to get a FitBit because the idea of other people seeing the number of steps I am taking does inspire me to take more at home and no doubt that has helped me lose 7lb during the step challenge. Since it was cheaper and that I don't like the idea of one on my arm, I got the one that attaches to my pants just like the one I had.

Once I synced my device to my tablet and got FitBit friends, I noticed something. Their daily step goals are less than 1/3 or 2/3 of my average and comparing my steps to theirs is futile. I then realized why. Those people have a job or life that doesn't require them to walk anywhere near what I take just like most everyone at my company. Those people also know that if they spend an hour sitting at a computer typing, they won't be doubled over in pain after getting up.

The phrase "5 decades of excuses" then applies as I try to justify everything that is wrong. Even though I lost the weight I demanded of myself to play in a tournament, a practice round played yesterday shows that my right arm/elbow is still not healed enough to compete so I can't play on Sep 13th liked I hoped.

Disc golf tournaments as well as conventions are the things that give me reason to drag myself off the couch at 5:15 to get to work. When those things are not able to provide the relief from life that I need, it leaves me empty especially when they disappear. As I hustled at work today trying to get things done as someone needed a day off to see a doctor, ugly thoughts rampaged through my brain. The concept of "accidentally" falling on the tracks as a commuter (or freight train) approaches always makes itself known when I walk across tracks even if there is no train in the area. The thought of making a public statement in November about making sure there won't be "6 decades of excuses" then ending things suddenly also appeared.

I have stated for years that if I did everything I wanted to do in life, I would have died in a JV home in the 70s. I know I lack the courage to attempt to make any those thoughts real. If I did not have courage while alone and friendless in 1996, I won't have it now. Life is special because it is finite and during many days, I am reminded about that including while typing this entry. More than likely my arm/elbow will heal and I will play in a tournament again even if it means next year in which I am qualified to play in the 2016 amateur worlds in Madison, WI July 9-16 2016. I am already registered for Windycon in November as well as Marscon and FuMPFeST in 2016 and to be honest, things are looking real good for the Dolphins this season.

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