Today I fight.

Today I fight.

I’m sitting here with half a dozen donuts, 1 sausage roll and 2 Monster Punch Baller’s blend (my favorite energy drink) in front of me. I already ate 2 sausage rolls and 1 breakfast burrito from a local gas station. My stomach is rumbling.

Donut place sausage rolls have given me stomach troubles since I was a kid. I have a vivd memory of eating a sausage roll in a school bus on the way to a High School wrestling tournament. My Dad bought donuts and sausage rolls for the team sometimes before a tournament. Wrestling tournaments were always long days. He was always one of the few parents willing to be there with me and my team at 5 am on a Saturday and not leave until midnight. He would follow the bus both ways. Most parents dropped off their kids and sped off into the dusk. A few would show up at the tournament and watch their kids. Some parents we never saw. But my Dad was always there for me. Always in my corner. Always rooting for me.

And now he’s gone. He passed away last year from the ravages of diabetes. A pre-mature death that could have been avoided if he was better able to control his diet. My Dad was never fat. Only barely overweight at times. But diabetes from his genetic disposition and a stubborn palette kept him from addressing his health problems. The complications and long term treatments slowly killed him but were not the direct causes of his death.

Around the age of 8, I out grew him and we had to stop wrestling each other when he warned me that I was hurting him. My favorite pro wrestling move was called the splash. It involved me running and jumping directly on top of him. No more wrestling with Dad. A few years later I emerged as a dominant regional heavyweight wrestler after 2 introductory years of repeatedly getting my ass kicked. Two years of hard work and loss that I would have never endured without my Dad being there for me.

I didn’t understand this at the time but since I stopped wrestling I have always been looking for my next fight. I thought it was in MMA. I thought it was it was in law enforcement. I tried to find it again on a college wrestling mat. I thought it was in another city. I thought it was on an surfboard. I thought it was on an improv stage. And there were times when I didn’t look at all. Happy to indulge in the distractions of drugs, drinking and chasing after girls. I used early years of discipline and restraint as justification for a more exploratory style of leisure. For those 2 decades I ignored the fight that had come to me long ago when I was a child. Some combination of genetics and emotional function had turned me into a food addict. And it’s been kicking my ass.

Ever since I lost the discipline and the physicality of my high school wrestling practice I have been losing the fight I should have been focusing on all along.

So why knowing this now am I sitting here about to shove this hand grenade of sugar and fat into my body? My favorite childhood cartoon (G.I. Joe) always ended their PSAs with ‘knowing is half the battle.’ But what they didn’t say is knowing is ONLY half the battle. And I venture to think it’s not even half. Maybe 10-15% at best. Doing is the thing. And doing is the fighting I should have been doing all along. Instead of just knowing. Instead of just knowing the latest workout routine, the latest diet trend or diet supplement.

I have been eating emotionally for as long as I remember. I vividly recall being bored as a child during lazy summers and running to the cabinet to find a salty or sweet snack. I remember almost 10 years ago when I first experience severe Seasonal Affective Depression in Chicago and destructive eating really got on top of me. The past few years I have done better. There’s been times of focus and progress. And I’m happy to say that I’m not as heavy now as I was 4 or 5 years ago. But I’m not healthy. And I still have episodes of senseless, destructive eating.

When I originally decided to go procure this cachet of poison passing for food, I told myself it was because I should have one more experience to be able to document what it’s like with a session of destructive eating. But if I’m being at all self-aware it was just a junkie’s excuse to get one more hit.

So now. Right now I’m throwing this garbage food away. Because I’m done ignoring or taking lightly the problem that plagues me and so many others. And on some other day I may eat destructively again. I may miss a workout. I may eat an unhealthy meal. I may have more drinks than I should. But today I begin again.

Today I fight.

And today I’m starting Thunder Pounds to solve the messy, hard, emotional part of major weight loss. I don’t know what specifically Thunder Pounds is yet. But it’s starting as a journal of war. And from this journal I intend to build out the tools, weapons and strategies necessary for myself and others to win.

To those reading that are not personally affected by destructive eating, though I make no apologies, I do hope you will excuse my dramatic tone. This is literally a matter of life and death for me and many others. I also hope that you will take the seriousness of the cause to heart as it no doubt affects someone you care about. You will be needed as an ally.

Adam Gutierrez
Weight: 452 lbs.
BMI: unknown
Thunder Pounds


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