I Can Also Jump Puddles (A short story)

Let me start by saying tonight that I'm nothing if not consistent. Consistently inconsistent that is. Let me explain. As I mentioned on Saturday I had a bit of a weekend blow-out in the diet immediately following my 4kg loss weigh in. I also mentioned at the time that the resulting 1.1kg gain for the week had reminded me to remain vigilant and ensure I didn't put two poor weeks together. Well, that plan was short lived because not less than 8 hours after that post I was back on a familiar, somewhat destructive path. It began with a few hours at the pub with a beer or two and a counter meal and finished around midnight after a fairly consistent session at home involving beer, take-away food, a bottle of red, my online TAB account, sky racing and numerous Saturday night footy games.

Now, I understand to some of my readers that sounds like a fun filled evening with three faithful friends (the Punt, the Footy and the Grog) and I have to say they've been good friends of mine over the years. But it's become very clear to me that I need to find some new, less destructive friends if I hope to make these changes stick. You see, the main problem for me is willpower and without doubt it takes a holiday whenever I overindulge on the happy juice. Now I'm not saying I'm planning to get on the wagon, but I definitely have to make better choices when it comes to where and when I choose to have a few drinks.

So what does all this mean for the weight loss journey this week? Well, I am again fighting back from another weekend blow-out. The result was not as bad as last week but I can guarantee there won't be any 'Biggest Loser' style numbers on the scales this week. But as I sit here sharing my failing with you tonight I can confirm that I've begun the fightback today with an equally impressive good day to counteract the weekend. So impressive I felt it deserved a brief short-story. Enjoy.

I Can Also Jump Puddles.

By Paul Smeaton (aka Fat Bastard)

For Gail and Hayley who both love it when I write something a bit silly.

Paul woke early to the sound of rain on the roof. He liked that sound, he always had. Living in a sub-tropical climate, mornings like these gave him a rare reminder of those cold, wet mornings from his childhood in Canberra, snuggled up under the doona, warm and content. The problem was, these were great mornings to lie in bed and revel in that feeling but alas there was work to be done. He had made a promise to himself last night that today would be a turning point in his diet journey after a few weeks of overindulgence had weakened his resolve.

He was entering week sixteen of his year long journey to his goal weight and ultimately personal redemption and better health. For three months he had stuck firmly to his eating and exercise plan losing nearly half of his targeted weight, but recently old, bad habits had threatened to undo his hard work. Paul was beginning to understand that this journey was just beginning. Old habits are hard to break.

As much as he loved that sound as the rain tumbled down outside, Paul knew that a difficult decision had to be made. The previous night's promise involved a commitment to a decent exercise session including either a walk to University or a return journey on his bike. The weather then, was a cause for frustration temporarily convincing Paul that he would have to battle the the late afternoon exercise demons and get on the exercise bike when he finally got home from university.

Then suddenly without warning inspiration struck. An idea so unique it couldn't be ignored. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier? It seemed so simple now. Walk. Just walk. Who cares if it was raining. Who cares if you get wet. After all he loved the rain. He fondly recalled those Saturday mornings in the 1970's waking to that familiar sound on the roof above. Back then, he eagerly looked forward to his weekend football match where he could slip and slide around the wide open spaces of Downer Oval and hopefully get a kick or two. The wetter and muddier the better he thought. So why should now be any different.

It wasn't. The decision was made, it was time to get wet. He packed his backpack, careful to ensure the laptop and clothing were encased in Coles shopping bags inside the bag to protect them from the almost unavoidable drenching. Paul had a saying. "Once you're wet, you're not getting any wetter". Despite knowing it was a fairly lame motto for a wet day he liked it anyway and decided to embrace it by leaving the umbrella at home and facing the conditions head on.

Clothed and packed, Paul headed off on the 9km journey to his campus secure in the knowledge he would soon be as wet as he could get. The rain wasn't heavy but it was steady and within 15 minutes or so Paul was soaked through and pretty happy about it. Around halfway into the journey it seemed the weather gods thought enough was enough as the rain eased offering Paul a moment of reflection on his unusual morning decision. It was strange he thought, but as silly as most people would think he was, choosing to embark on a 1 1/2 hour walk in such poor weather conditions, he felt great. He was kid again if only for a moment, jumping puddles and feeling the rain on his face.

The break in the rain was short-lived as the clouds lowered and darkened and shared their bounty with the already sodden landscape below. But the more it rained the more Paul enjoyed his walk. Passers-by looked quizzically as they passed the sodden individual who appeared strangely content despite looking like he'd just completed a fully clothed pool live-saving course. One man commented sarcastically as he passed by, "Bit wet out is it?". Paul just smiled in return thinking, "poor guy just doesn't get it". He was happy and carefree. It was liberating.

After 90 minutes Paul arrived at university getting more sideways glances as he headed to the campus facilities for a warm shower and a dry set of clothes. He emerged soon after to face the day, finally dry, groomed and fitting the narrow societal view of how one should behave on a rainy day.

As he sat in his lecture listening to an equally passionate individual discus the intricacies of video editing and sound mixing he felt a contentment usually reserved for moments other than these. He was happy, truly happy if only for this morning, this moment. He had said "damn what anyone else thinks" and done what he wanted to do and it felt great. As the day continued and returned to the usual Monday ritual of lectures and meetings the feeling dissipated until it was time to head home, this time on the bus.

As Paul left his meeting and began the short walk to the bus stop the rain again tumbled down. At that moment, a thought, a single thought reverberated though-out his mind building in intensity with every step he took. He wanted that feeling again, that feeling of satisfaction, of individuality, of doing something silly but oh so good.

"Bugger it," he thought. I'm walking home.

And he did.



THE END.

Hope you enjoyed it.

P