Most people that meet me for the first time would never believe that growing up I was quite overweight. At 172 cm tall I was about 130 kilos. That’s a BMI of 43.9 — obese by a large margin. Today I am almost half the person (literally) at 75 kilos working towards my goal of 65 kilos.

When I turned 18 I got my first driver’s license. I remember the instant I saw that first photo. Giddily opening the mail on my way home I stopped being so giddy. I immediately understood that I had to do something. The path of least resistance is to alter one’s diet. I had heard of success and read up on ever popular Atkins diet and gave it a shot.

In total I did a strict Atkins diet for 3 months and then fell off the wagon. I don’t remember how much weight I lost at that time, but it was enough to get me feeling better. It also made me realize how poor the foods I was eating were for me.

Even though I quit Atkins I never did gain that weight back. It helped break a barrier within me. I now had the power and some knowledge to limit what I was eating. I went from a super big-gulp of soda-pop a day to much less, maybe a cola every few days.

This combined with a few guidelines of Only shop in the perimeter of the store and Michael Pollan’s Mantra from “In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto” (something I wrote about on my old blog): Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants.

This path of towards health has been a long one with almost 6 years having passed since it originally began with my driver’s license photo. Having grown up as the stereotypical “fat kid” I had a huge internal barrier towards exercise.

The traditional advice for starting to exercise is to start with small steps. One so you don’t strain and injure yourself and two so you don’t burn out and keep yourself motivated.

I had tried over the years to start exercising. Always ending in failure. I realize now it was because I still had a little “fat kid” inside me telling me that I couldn’t do it. That I couldn’t sustain it. And as long as I listened to my inner fat kid he won.

One weekend I went to a small town in Chiba, Japan under the impression I was going to be watching my friend (pictured above) and people in his community carry Mikoshi (a kind of Shinto shrine) around town. My friend had neglected to mention that I too was going to be carrying it for eight. It only weighted one-thousand kilos.

With bruised shoulders that would be dis-colored for a week, we told eachother after the first thirty minutes until the end eight hours later, “ato mou chotto. ato mou chotto” (just a little longer, just a little longer).

Little by little as we carried the mikoshi through town I realized that I could do this. I had to do it, no matter the pain, I had twenty other guys depending on me as I depended on them.

When we finished I had epiphany that this entire time I was denying my physical ability. This unknowingly self-imposed barrier was broken instantly and it only took a carrying a one-thousand kilo shrine around town for eight hours with twenty other guys.

Dive in head first. You can do it. The journey might seem never-ending but just remember: ato mou chotto. ato mou chotto.