This month, I’ve written an extensive feature about fitness opportunities in Oklahoma City. Buried in the end of the article, is a “note from the author” that I am particularly pleased with, as it is a true telling of what happens when you eat like an utter slob for a year and then see a picture of yourself on Christmas morning and have a mini breakdown because you are shaped like an egg, you’re buying new pants at Target because your good pants don’t fit and get exhausted tying your shoes… Thought I would share the sentiment here on my blog as well. Please check out the whole, in addition to the note from the author here.
Here’s how it happened.
Last year, I did a story on destination dining in the towns surrounding Oklahoma City. The research involved eating some of the finest and fattiest cheeseburgers, French fries, fried chicken, fried okra, chicken fried steaks, pasta, tacos, brisket, ribs, pie, fried pie and every other delicious artery-clogging, night-sweat-inducing delectable that the Sooner State had to offer. So enjoyable was the gluttonous, sodium- and sugar-packed expedition that even after the story’s publication, what I now ruefully refer to as “The Year of the Cheeseburger” continued. “I’m just enjoying myself,” I’d think in some far-flung, neon-lit burger shack, before popping another onion ring or 12 into my mouth. “The food in Oklahoma is really good … [slurp of soda] What’s this place got for dessert?”
Six months later, I found myself in the lobby of Edmond’s popular fitness class Orange Theory, talking with one of their cheerful instructors. “How can we help you?” he asked enthusiastically. My sweatpants cinched at my waistline like a noose. I was out of breath for no reason and where once there was hair, I feared that I’d soon be growing French fries.
“I’ve been eating …” I said. He simply nodded, giving me space to continue. “… A lot.”
The trainer put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder and assured me that they’d get me back in shape. If I could savagely chomp my way across the state, then so, too, could I hike, bike, run, row, spin and stretch my way back into my old sweatpants – and more importantly, to a state of health suitable for a man a year shy of 40. I don’t recall much about my first Orange Theory class; only that at some point, I’m fairly sure I “saw the light.” After the class was out, it took quite a while to formulate words. I was on my way. “The Year of the Cheeseburger” had come to an end.
For two months, I took on fitness classes and outdoor activities across the metro. And like our dive-iest restaurants, each has something that makes it special. The Pilates chairs at Beyond Fitness worked my core so intensely that for two days, my lower torso ceased to function. At Western Boxing Gym, I learned that there is great catharsis in punching a heavy bag, but punching a heavy bag for an hour makes you feel like you’ve been punched. At Cycle Bar, I learned that if you push yourself hard enough, you won’t even notice Justin Bieber playing through the sound system, and at Orange Theory, if you make yourself uncomfortable as they encourage you to do, eventually you will be able to fit into your old sweatpants. I learned that outdoor activities in Oklahoma, such as kayaking, stand up paddle boarding and hiking, are a lot more fun if you can do them without wheezing. And most importantly, I learned that nothing tastes better after a Saturday morning workout than a cheeseburger and a beer. Especially since you’ve earned it.