I’ve been on this weight loss journey for close to a year now, and pretty seriously since December. I started 2020 with the goal of getting to 242 pounds. I wanted to get there by a power lift meet this December. I peaked at 280 pounds last fall.

Then a pandemic hit.
Then I injured my knee.
Then my company got rid of its walk incentive.
Then I got sick.
Then my wife got sick.
Then we got quarantined.

I’m Mister “Don’t make excuses, make results” guy, right? Well, I’m here to say, those excuses above slowed me down a tad on my journey…

but they did not stop me.

I weighed in Sunday morning at an even 240 pounds. I cried a little. Sarah made fun of me for it. That’s okay on both ends. I’ve lost 40 pounds. A few tears are okay.

Why 242 pounds, not 240? Well, weight classes is why. And the next one down in powerlifting is 220 pounds. I really don’t know if I want to go down all the way to that, but I’ve decided I have another 10 in me.

So, screw it. Here is to losing 50 pounds in this god forsaken year. If Covid doesn’t kill, I’m adding years to my life.

230, here I come.