At full draw on a 30 yard target, pressure was building between my finger and the trigger on the release. As the bowstring jumped forward to propel the arrow, so did the joint between my humorous and clavicle, causing my left arm to leave its place within the shoulder socket. Immediately that arm fell useless down to my side, the bow still hanging by its sling, adding weight to an already excruciating second dislocation.

For those who’ve read parts one and two of this series, you know how I became overweight then dropped sixty pounds in short order. I’m around 5’11” in height and at my leanest, clocked in around 160 lbs. I was certainly healthier, thinner, but no more durable than when I was heavy. The doctor said that I would likely continue dislocating my shoulder unless I underwent an invasive surgery, or strengthened the muscles around the joint to compensate for the overstretched ligaments. He admitted that even if I elected for the surgery, it still wouldn’t be a 100% fix. I’d have to either live with an unstable shoulder, or get stronger.

I chose strength.

In some ways, adding a strength training regimen to my new lifestyle wasn’t too difficult. I had momentum from the weight loss that I could carry into this new challenge. In other ways, working on building muscle meant directly facing my own weaknesses. Remember the humiliating fitness tests in high school P.E.?

“Let’s see how many chin ups you can’t do.”

It was pretty much the same thing, only self-inflicted. I did it though because there were things in life I wanted to accomplish with this body, not because I had designs on modeling…getting fit wasn’t going to do anything for this mug. I wanted to be able to protect my family, to shoot my bow, ride my bike, take a slapshot. I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel.

I started out with standard situps, planks, pushups, curls, etc…a bunch of old school, no fun movements. I refused to buy expensive fitness equipment. People never seem to use it once they take delivery. I went around and visited a few gyms to check on memberships, but something about paying someone to go and lift things in their building seemed ridiculous. I did invest in a few dumbbells, a pull up bar and then repurposed a closed cell foam camping pad into a work out mat. Our downstairs living room became my work out area. I started exercising almost every day between trips out to log miles.

Relatively quickly I could see progress but it came at a price. My appetite was changing and my previous diet work was no longer cutting it . I needed more, but was terrified that if I deviated, I’d go right back to packing on pounds. Begrudgingly I began adding more protein, mostly in the form of peanut butter, wild game and whey protein mixes.  Eventually I dialed in the right amount of additional calories with the nutrition my body needed. The results came even faster, though I had to get comfortable with adding a few inches to my waistline and watching the bathroom scale tick back upward.

I fell into a strength training rut for a few years until just before Sofie was born. My well-intentioned friends who were already parents would say things like, “You just wait to you have a little one. You won’t have time for working out or running once they come along.” Concerned again that I’d regress on the strides I’d made, I found an alternative regiment I could do exclusively at home. P90X.

I don’t work for BeachBody, but I will say Tony Horton’s prescription was an effective way for me to remain fit and increase strength when Daddy duties curtailed my standard schedule. I tailored the program to compensate for my already strong cardio conditioning from the high mileage I was maintaining. Many of the exercises I modified until I got strong enough to execute with proper form. I was sore a lot, which meant the program was working.

I was also spending more time on my road bike grinding on the hills of west St. Louis county. It wasn’t uncommon to crank out 40+ miles on a Saturday afternoon and climb over 2,000 feet. That type of exertion only enhanced the other areas I had grown strong in. The mix of running, P90X and cycling propelled me to win some 5k races, run a couple sub-four hour marathons and snag top finisher titles in a few century rides. More than that though, it showed me what was possible when a person exercises discipline and desire. You aren’t stuck being something you don’t want to be.

This August will mark the nine year anniversary of this odyssey. Everyday is a struggle and a series of decisions to choose who I’m going to be, much the same as any other aspect of our lives. I’ve learned so much and the next and concluding installment of this series will wrap up my observations on going from fat to fit. For now, I’ll leave you with these words:

Fitness should be defined by what you want to accomplish in life. Find the intersection of desire, hope and discipline and you’ve found your starting point.