My Baviaanskloof Adventure

In the last month I have ticked off two items on my bucket list, personal achievements which brought with them a range of experiences and lessons I had not thought of when I placed them on that list. In this blog I will explore the first of these experiences as I learn to challenge my limiting thoughts and accept what is as being perfect.

When I started cycling I set the goal of riding the Baviaanskloof. I set this goal for when I reached my ideal weight, the what-to-do idea was inspired from another person’s bike adventure holiday and the place was likely inspired by an article I read in the GO magazine- or so I thought. Yet at the end of my Baviaans adventure I stand amazed that none of those reasons held the real truth in the light of the greater organising wonder of the universe. Hence at the end of it all it was an amazingly different experience to the one I had intended.


My Baviaans Adventure
I had designated that by April 2010 I would be at my ideal weight, hence my Baviaans adventure was planned accordingly. As I started to ride in preparation for this adventure I shared my idea with a local bike shop owner in Port Alfred, who in turn offered to get a few guys together so we could do it as a group. This solved the organisation, technical and doing it alone problem all in one. I spoke to experienced riders as well as repeatedly searched the internet about cycling in the Baviaans. This got me all the more excited as this would be a real physical challenge. I eagerly shared this information with the bike shop owner, who dutifully kept promising that he will make work of the trip. I dutifully did my base training programme, kept an eye on my weight loss and got my bike spec’ed for an adventure. Long story short he did not keep up his side leaving me holding what I thought was an empty bucket.


Realising if I wanted to make this adventure happen I will need to do it myself I Googled my regular phrase for MTB trips in the Baviaanskloof. This should have given me the usual list in which I expected to see one of the bike trip organisers I had considered contacting before. However, on this Monday there was a new page which I had not notice during my pervious searches. The page contained in great detail a five day trip through the Baviaans which I could follow on my three maps. More importantly they offered special tours. I called the Bo-Kloof guest farm, number. A friendly voice answered, I explained the reason for my call enthusiastically, she noted that it was an old page and they do not really offer these services anymore, but she will talk to her husband and come back to me.


In the meantime the “others” who would be interested in doing the trip vaporised leaving me alone. With some further negotiations Bo-Kloof would make arrangements for me to do the Baviaans on my own. This however meant I could not cycle through to Patensie. A compromise I was prepared to accept.


As I started to pack all the stuff I would need to tackle the mother of all climbs (MAC) to get to my end point, Bergplaas, I could not help but start thinking of my father. Some of my strongest memories of him were when the two of us would do things together without the rest of the family, like going to a farm in the Baviaans. I can remember him and me travelling down a strange road just wide enough for a single car and having to pull to the side to allow Peugeot bakkies to pass us. But perhaps the most enduring memory was how dark and cold the old farmhouse was in its mountains shadow and that very cold morning bath in the outside bathroom with its wood fired copper geyser.


This was not the first time I recalled that trip with my dad but it was perhaps the first time I felt the need to reconnect with something I did with my father more than 30 years ago. I called my sister and got her onto the task of finding out what the connection was between our family and that farm. What was its name and who was the man we went to see there. 

Wednesday heralded the start to my adventure. Cannon Rocks put on her morning best filling the sky with beautiful pastel colours. I set my GPS to Steytlerville and headed out on a slow drive. 

As I drove I wondered at and photographed the beautiful scenery around me like the blue sky offsetting the rolling green hills which not a month earlier had been so brown and lifeless in the draught. As these green coastal hills gave way to the Karroo landscape with its abundant space, my thoughts quieted down further and I could increasing observe the different splendours around. 

Road works became an opportunity to see things and people at the side of the road you would never observe speeding by. Smiling colourful road workers, the beauty of the grass plumes or the way the green trees framed distant purple mountains- it all became experiences which evoked a deepening sense of being present. I felt spoken to, I felt privileged, I felt grateful, I felt at peace. It was dawning on me that this adventure was not going to be simply about my bike ride.

I reach the first area town of Steytlerville, a town seemingly trying to connect the past and present through flags. After grabbing a chocolate Steri Stumpie to feed my inner child and an update to my SMS trackers, I headed out of Steytlerville down a seemingly endless Karroo road. Then I notice the narrow road, yield to oncoming traffic sign. I laughed reflectively, the narrow one lane road. I stopped. 

In front of me the deep blue sky polished with wisps of white clouds made the little white road pop as it invited one to see what was around the corner in this beautiful Karroo landscape that stretched in front of me. I sensed a closeness to my father, not a longing or an absence, just a kind of kinship.


Passing Willowmore, the second area town, I turned off the main and headed down the T1 into the Baviaanskloof. Signs warned of the road conditions beyond the Wilderness area. I stopped and entered the GPS co-ordinates for the Bo-Kloof Guest Farm some 71 kilometres down the road. I set off with a massive mauve dust cloud bellowing from behind my city slicker car.


Like the little white road outside Steytlerville, the T1 slowly beckons you into the kloof through turn after turn leaving one to wonder when the kloof will appear . Eventually the rather perplexing Nuwe Kloof sign flashes by, what is so new about this kloof one wonders? 

Then as if to say, now stop and look, the shear face of the majestic Nuwe Kloof confronts you. I slowly steer my way through the Nuwe Kloof, its coppery gold rock walls rising from the narrow strip of dirt road, enveloping you, making you feel distinctly small.

Outside the Nuwe Kloof more farm land and the presence of two old rusting Ford Prefects. As if to remind me of my own modern vulnerability, a ping comes from my dashboard as the fuel light comes on. I had forgotten to fill the car in Willowmore, too late to turn back I must push through to Bo-Kloof and make a plan for fuel there. I smile thinking to myself, in the voice of Warf the Klingon, this might still be a good day to ride my bike after all. Of course Warf thought it was a good day to die in his battle with the Borg queen, I had no intentions of dying for any queen.


I push through passing farm houses and more spectacular mountain faces than can be absorbed driving.


Keeping a keen eye on my kilometres left calculation display, the GPS and my right foot I arrive at Bo-Kloof guest farm. I greet the farmer, pull in my car and meet his wife the friendly voice on the phone. The accommodation is basic, honest, pure farm. I cannot help but to think of Nico’s parents farm and the many weekends spent there. I feel at home, connected in some way. I’m strangely grateful I’m not spending the night in one of those picturesque guest houses I saw online.


When I made the arrangements I was encouraged by my host to come early so I could hike their kloof. What I did not know was that my guide to the kloof would be Skollie the dog. At first I did not take the comment seriously when I was told Skollie would show me the way, but at the same time I was a bit embarrassed to say, right, no really who will go with me? Part embarrassed and part intrigued by the idea of Skollie as a guide dog I walked up to him and said, are you coming, to which he responded by walking towards the gate I was told leads to the kloof.

Skollie is, as it turns out, a well documented celebrity guide dog. He has been the subject of several articles and from my experience a deserving celebrity as he led me deeper and deeper into the kloof. Skollie’s skills at showing me where to walk and waiting for me to catch up aside, he gave me the opportunity to explore the kloof without the need for an outer dialogue with a human guide or group- there was no need to think I could just observe the beautiful kloof around me.

Deep in the kloof with the sound of water unseen running somewhere I sat upon a large boulder. I reflected on the past couple of months, my journey to this point and the promise of a new relationship I had left in Pretoria. The peace I felt deepened and the bike ride seemed to become far less important than what it had been in the last couple of days. I opened the door to something new.


A wonderful farm supper with saucy pumpkin fritters and home-made bread had me beaming with contentment despite the nerves for the next day. Breakfast at 6 and the start of my ride at 6:30 lay ahead.

My iPhone reminded me that I was already awake at 4:30. I milled around packing my double checked piles into my Camel Bak. The arrival of breakfast sped things up and before long I stood ready for my first photos.


It was cold as I took the short road to the main gate and the T1, turning left towards my end destination, Bergplaas. I had planned that the first 20 kilometres should be at slow pace so I could warm up properly and conserve my strengths for the MAC, but it was teeth clattering cold and I upped the pace.


As is the nature of the Baviaans there are many corners hiding many surprises. And so it was that not to long after setting out I came to my first low water bridge, with water flowing over it. I slowly pedalled my way through- nice and dry. A few hundred meters further another, but this time the water was deeper, deep enough for my feet to go under the water. Now my feet were freezing, I laughed as I said to myself not for the first time in this trip, well it is an adventure you know!

About an hour in I was desperate for the sun which by now I knew must be up, but hidden by the steep mountain sides to either side of me. My escort 4x4 passed me for the first time, I gave the thumbs up, and soldiered on passing colourful locals and their donkeys. The cold started to lift as I passed the tidiest police station in South Africa- apparently the title is official and clearly deserved. I was nearing the Wilderness area where I would stop for my first short chat with the farmer and his father in-law. They turned out to be keen conservationists who while talking to me picked out a leopard spoor in the sand right next to us not even 10 meters from the Wilderness gate.

The farm roads gave way to what I imagine would be termed a jeep track. The ride started to go through tunnel-like sections with Woody Cape like forests with low water bridges. These tunnels were wonderful rest bites from the sun and riding through the water started to become a welcome feature of the trip.

I reached the first of the two fangs that signal the start of the MAC 50 kilometres into my ride. I feel strong and tackle Graskop with reserves. On my way up I need to stand aside for a 4x4 to pass on the narrow road. A merry couple looking to be of a retired disposition greet me and ask how far I’m going. All the way to Bergplaas I respond to which they seem thrilled and wish me the best of luck.


At the top of Graskop I meet up with my support vehicle. Stretched before me are steep green mountains- I cannot spot the end point from up here. The farmer points to the bottom of the gorge next to us and follows with his finger a thin strip up a far mountain informing me that that is where the road travels before I get to the next pass.

The road down is fast, the dual suspension is working hard to keep up as I apply all my “technical skills”, significantly improved through the adrenalin boost due to the lack of guard rails next to the track. Thank god for my Fountains and Groenkloof club rides! At the bottom of what felt like a seconds worth of riding my legs are aching from crouching to allow the bike to jockey beneath me. I realise that up is the easy part it is the down that can kill your legs.


Approaching the second fang I come to a river crossing to find a group of motor bikers on a tour. Mounted on one biker’s helmet is a video camera, which rather comically recorded the ill-fated crossing of the last rider who seem to make a professional assessment of the conditions before stalling in the middle of the stream. As they sped on I felt pity for these bikers. I wondered if the camera was needed to record the beautiful scenery as they sped by so they could later watch it on a DVD in HD. That is what I love about my bike, not only does it require me to form part of its efforts to climb through the kloof, but it also slows me down to breath in the beauty around me. It creates space in my life.


The second fang was shorter than the first but hellishly steep. My back tire was loosing grip at times over the gravel which demanded a higher leg killing gearing to prevent me stalling over the larger rocks in the road. Stalling and falling was not an option as the road was narrow and the gorge next to me seemed to disappear somewhere far below. My heart rate was spiking at 95%, but I could not stop. A small plateau lay ahead I dug deep and pressed on. After waiting for my heart rate to recover in the shade of a small bush I pressed on to the top. A second long rough downhill jockey did not help my legs recover. The easy riding was over.

The third climb was simply a long seemingly never-ending up, which gracefully was hidden by various corners and bushes. Half way up another 4x4 with a father and son is heading in the same direction. They ask me if I’m the guy ridding all the way up and if I need anything. I am and no thanks I’m fine. Friendly bunch of people on this trip I think to myself but how did they know about me?

My bottle of Octane is nearly empty, I’ve switched to Engergade jellie babies. I can feel my energy is falling fast but with a newly filled Camel Bak I can afford the water need to get these babies absorbed. But my planning seems flawed and as the climb starts to become more flat my legs are not strong and I’m mentally tired. I start to get my head into the think-it-through space, slow down, recover, be alert, you are almost there.

Finally I’m on the plateau with its fynbos habitat. Although the road is not nearly as bad as other stretches I’ve done, it feels like each pebble in a boulder. My odometer says I’m 2 kilometres from Bergplaas, I start to recall the advice once given to me that sometimes you ride from bush to bush. I look for my first bush goal.

A few minutes later I see the white Toyota Twincab ahead and the farmer camera in hand next to a place marking, Bergplaas at last, ignoring my dead legs I pick up the pace, I have done it!


Around the braai fire that night I discover that my hosts actually know a lot about the farm I visited as a child. Its name is Uitspan, the old man was Janse Rautenbach, the farm house is still there and as I remember it, they know the current farmer and what is more they themselves lived there for six very cold months.


What seemed imperfect and chaotic at times turned out to be perfect. My return to the Baviaans for a bike ride did not measure up to my planning but I got so much more from it. I reconnected with my father as a man on my own journey. Moreover, I was given a wonderful opportunity to be the observer of the beauty that surrounds us and quiet my mind. I could now understand that my past was at peace with my present not through thinking but simply by it being the past, it was all as it should have been to bring me to the now, and within that moment of realisation I would understand my future better not as an objective but as a perfect life journey.

The physical how

In this blog I will share the physical how of what I have done to loose my weight. Again, I need to point out that this is simply my own personal experience and not medical, fitness or nutritional advice. Also this physical how must be framed by my previous two blogs about turning points and stories. My assertion, weight is a symptom not a cause of unhappiness and an overactive ego.

Lets start with the food. I had all the typical physical manifestations of metabolic syndrome, which in plain English was you are too fat syndrome, so for me a healthy diet was the starting point. Between researching the syndrome and consulting a dietician I synthesised the following approach.

I eat 5-6 meals a day of which two are usually larger meals. In eating these meals I took note of three things- what I ate (what it was made of), how many calories it contained and what its Glycemic Index and Load was.

While watching an episode of Oprah with Dr. Oz I became aware of how many very unnatural ingredients we eat routinely. These ingredients are modified elements which reek havoc with our bodies. So when I pick something off the shelf I look at the label to decide if I am prepared to eat it using the following avoid list:

• Any ingredient with the word modified, for example modified starch;
• Foods containing corn syrup;
• Any ingredient with the term hydrogenated in it, for example hydrogenated oil;
• Any artificial ingredient that has a number which appears in the first five ingredients on the list;
• Nuts that are roasted;
• Products that are enriched such as enriched flour; and
• Food that has any trans fats

Having got into the habit of reading ingredient labels I am still surprised at what is actually in our foods.

A label I always like is free range and/ or an organic, not because they are more nutritious which they are not necessarily, but I like the idea that my food was happy.

Besides reading the label I also, in the beginning, used the caloriecount website (http://caloriecount.about.com) to track my calorie intake. This worked well to ensure I did not take in more calories than I needed. My baseline was to keep my calorie intake between 1800 and 2400 calories. The website helps you determine your ideal calorie intake. Also worth noting is that the site does not have many South African products so you will need to do some uploading of your own food values but it well worth the effort once set up.

Now everyone is talking low Glycemic Index (GI) foods, which is all great, but few talk Glycemic Load (GL) as the other side of the coin. In brief GL  is based on the actual amount of carbohydrates eaten. If you ate a high GI food in small quantities it acts differently on your glucose levels than if you ate a lot of the same food- effectively you can make a high GI food act like a low GI food. The long and short of it is that if you keep a food’s GL in mind you can limit its effect on your glucose levels and the pursuant insulin spike. For me I like to have less than 20g of carbohydrates per serving in a snack meal and not more than 50g in a main meal. This means one must read your labels. Read more about this at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glycemic_load .

These three principals guide me when thinking about what I eat, but what do I eat? I decided to follow a Mediterranean diet. It suits my taste in food and works well for snacking between larger meals. 

For more on this diet see http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/mediterranean-diet/CL00011 . A few of my focus points are getting in the oily fish at least twice a week and limiting red meat as far as I can. I like nuts, but I must measure it out otherwise I finish a packet.

My last eating experiences that worked for me include eating every three hours and using the plate portion model.

Ask anyone who knows me I seem to be a little obsessive about when I eat. Yes I time myself from my breakfast to supper. For example if I only take breakfast at 9 am then my day goes, snack at 11 am, lunch at 2 pm, snack at 5 pm etc. I’m so committed to my schedule I even take food into meetings so I can eat on time and perhaps more importantly so I also get the right nutrition. Do not allow stories about what you cannot do stop you form eating when and what you must.

The plate portion model is a great tool to set out your portions. It is very simple. A quarter of a standard plate (no not that hotel platter) should be protein no thicker than your hand. A further quarter should be starch which includes potatoes, rice or pasta. The rest of the plate should be green vegetables with very little yellow or orange vegetables.

Exercise, yes there is a lot of it but again do not allow stories to stop you from achieving your best life. Using my own story as an example, I firmly believed that I could not exercise too early or too late. As such I did not exercise unless the time was “perfect” which ultimately it never was because I would delay until it became too late. This changed after a very stressful day when I arrived very late one night at my hotel room in Durban. As I unpacked my day suitcase I mumbled about “missing” my workout. Just then I realised that the reality was that I could just do it right now, why was it too late and besides I could do with the physical release of my stress. I did and now never allow stories to stop me from investing in my physical wellbeing.

Stories aside I have had two exercise routines, each fulfilling their specific purpose. The one uses interval training and the other base training. I will share my interpretations but there is a lot written about each which you can research on Google.

Both these routines will require you monitor your heart rate. I invested in a heart rate monitor which is great to keep track of your workout, so it comes highly recommended. All you need is your heart rate so do not buy a top end model at first.

When I was heavy, obese, I read in a Mens Health that walking on a treadmill for interval training could be a great way to loose weight without hammering your knees. I tried it and found it a great way of getting going, and perhaps more importantly it was so quick I had no excuse for not doing it.

To follow the same programme first workout your Maximum Heart Rate (MHR). This is done by subtracting your age from 220. The workout is based on 60%, 70% and 80% of that MHR. This can be calculated by multiplying your MHR by 0,6; 0,7 or 0,8.

With these numbers in hand or mind you start off with a 3 minute slow walk, 3-5kph with a 1% incline, to warm up. Then set the treadmill at a very fast walking pace. For me that was 6.6-7.1 kph. This will be the treadmill speed for the rest of the work out.

The aim of this interval programme is to adjust the incline and not the speed of the treadmill for one minute intervals to get your heart rate into the target range of 60%, 70% or 80% of MHR. What you want is a programme like 60%, 70%, 70%, 80%, 80%, 80% intervals with 90 second rests in between at roughly half the incline of the interval. If you go out of the target range adjust the incline not the speed unless you exceed 90% of your MHR. It may take a day or two for you to get the right inclines and speed. Also after first week you will be adjusting your inclines as you will find the improvements in what you can manage come quickly.

My first interval treadmill workout looked like this.

Intervals in orange are 60 seconds while rest periods in green are 90 seconds

After your last 80% interval, time how long it takes your heart rate to reduce from its maximum rate to 25 beats less. For example, you had a recover from 160 bpm to 135 bpm in one minute. If it takes less than 1 minute this indicates good heart health. When I started it took nearly 90 seconds to reduce my heart rate by 25 bpm during my cool down. Now it only takes 40 seconds.

After 3 months of following my interval programme I started to cycle. For me this has been a great personal success since I enjoy it tremendously. Before starting I found someone who could advise me on what I needed and what to do. This really helped me in getting a handle on what to expect. I set myself the goal of cycling in the Baviaanskloof in 4 months (April 2010) and started a base training programme which is time and not kilometres based. I cycle 10-12 hours a week, yes that takes a lot of story busting, but the reality is simple if I want to achieve my goal I must get out there and put in the time- mud, sun, dust and crazy hours to boot.

A final experience I want to share is about recording your results. From day one I measured myself to get a sense of my progress. This includes weighing myself every Friday morning before I grab a cup of coffee and measuring my true waist circumference (which is just under the belly button). I created an Excel file were all this is recorded so I could understand the reality of my efforts. When I started to cycle I also started to record all my trip data on the Polar website.

These truths about how much you have lost and what effort you have put in is very important in confronting your stories about eating and exercising.

In conclusion I hope these experiences are useful for you to augment your plans, but as you can see I have made frequent reference to getting through your stories which will stop you from achieving your goals.

Stories that rob us of happiness

In my previous blog on turning points I raised the issue of stories. In this blog I would like to share my views on stories as a phenomenon that robs one of true inner happiness. I’ll start with a technical description and then illustrate this description from my own experiences with stories.

Stories for me are the mental narratives that one builds around seemingly important issues or ideas about “who I am” or “what others are”. It is rather easy to see a story because it often has the “I” in it, for example, I’m too tired to gym, I deserve that chocolate, I need a better job. Who is this I and why does it seem to fuel all my thinking? What does this “I” want from me and why does it seem to be associated with failures in my life? Sounds confusing but is actually rather simple when one sees this “I” and its stories in action.

For a story in action I like using the example of my “cycling is not for me” story to illustrate my understanding of stories.

My local Woolies food store is next to a House of Coffees which on Sundays is a favourite breakfast stop for cyclists. I would pass these fit, thin and well equipped cyclists and say to myself, “I would never do that, I would not risk life and limb on these Gauteng roads on a grossly expensive bike”. However at the same time while looking at them I felt intensely unhappy. Again I would think to myself, “I might be overweight, but I’m ok, this obsession with being that thin is ridiculous”. On these Sundays I would never walk out of Woolies without a lot of feel better food to maximise my recovery from what they reflected as being absent in my life.

The reality was that these cyclists did not belong to a group of people which excluded me, I excluded myself through my thinking. However, there was also another dimension; why did these stories and feelings trigger me to distance myself further from these cyclists by eating? At the time I did not understand the relationship my thinking, ego and pain-body had in terms of my stories nor would that understanding come easily to me.

At the time of this cyclist story I was reading Eckhart Tolle’s book, A New Earth, but I at that time had not got the message of what stories and my thinking was doing to my life. This especially since it was literally destroying my body and any happiness I could experience. However, the universe acts in interesting ways and soon the first brick was sent my way to learn the story lesson.

My first brick came three weeks after starting my new eating and exercising plan when circumstances brought into my life a man who a few months earlier I had labelled as being someone who would not be very interested in me or for that matter that I did not have a lot in common with- my story, we had little reason to interact. But events had conspired in a way that forced him to make contact with me. One thing led to another and we started to chat regularly. He would frequently and rather rudely challenge my many stories, which while it created a lot of enlightening moments was also creating an emotional ride of a lifetime.

Despite the turmoil this man introduced into my life, as we interacted over the following two months I came to the realisation that I had become a prisoner of my own stories and that the reality often bore little resemblance to my stories. This gave me the understanding that change was not about turning a new page or of starting a new chapter in my life. The true awakening for me around change was when I essentially realised that I have, in fact, always had within me a new book one in which I could write anything to create the life I wanted. This new book could be, should be, unhindered by my past experiences or expectations of the future, thereby making my life a now voyage. This voyage of the present was awash with opportunity and fulfilment so long as I was still enough to let go of all that noise introduced by my thinking.

This realisation may seem rather sequential but in fact it was not. It took a lot of reflection on the role my stories had in my life and perhaps more importantly identifying the underlying driver of my thinking, my pain-body. Over the three weeks or so that I actively reflected on my pain-body I came to the understanding that what was happening at the surface was driven by a deeper truth. For me this truth only revealed itself if I did not try to use my thinking to explore it, hence I believe it simply came when the time is right and that that time was when I let go of my expectations.

During this reflection I found Tolle’s advice on using nature to create space in my thinking very useful. Some of my greatest insights into myself came from simple things like the flowers in my garden or the beauty of Eastern Cape coastal forest flora. As an illustration; after a difficult night in which I had a rough time coming to terms with my thinking around what I wanted in my life, I walked outside my house with a cup of coffee as I had done so many times before. For me viewing the sun rising in the east and taking in the early morning smells of the sea gave me a deep sense of peace. As I passed my long suffering Hibiscus, I noted it was in full bloom with its characteristically large flowers, which seemed so disproportional given the bushes small size. I looked at the beautiful blooms and as I did my mind became quiet. 

Standing looking at these flowers I realised that despite not getting enough water, fertiliser and standing in dune sand this bush flowered with an almost palpable sense of living. I realised that I, like this bush, did not need every thing in my life perfect to bloom. Moreover, that that which was in my past truly did not matter, nor for that count anything I expected for tomorrow. Like that bush I could live my life to the full, right now, with abundance. It was a profound moment for me in my life and it came thanks to a simple flower.

A month later the antagonist of my thinking quiet simply exited my life as suddenly as he had entered. In this to was a lesson for me, many people one will interact with can be a teacher in your life, if you are open to the lesson. Hence, despite his rude and self-centred nature, I remain deeply grateful that he came into my life like a wrecking ball, one that took down the barriers which stopped my growth as a person.

 

Today nearly four months later from first challenging my stories, my life is very different. I now own a grossly expensive mountain bike on which I spend many very enjoyable hours. Every Saturday after my club ride, I to am now one of those cyclists sitting at a House of Coffees having breakfast.

So what is the bottom line for stories and loosing weight? In my mind it is a simple truth. Something makes you reach for the food- your pain-body; and something makes it ok for you to be fat or justifies being fat; the ego driven fat stories. Therefore if you want to truly loose weight and become happy you must address your stories head-on. I also realised that I have been told this truth numerous times by people like Bob Green and Oprah Winfrey, but that I did not truly hear what they were saying. Perhaps I was not ready to hear like the many people who ask me to share my “how I did it” story.

Turning point

Many of us have heard people who make life changing choices say that they reached a turning point.  Some may even point out several turning points or hitting rock bottom, a forced turning point. Perhaps it is in our human nature to want to know what was needed to create the change, perhaps because it may be something one might  be seeking in your own life. With this in mind I’ll start with my thoughts on turning points.
 

I once watched an Oprah show in which she pointed out that the universe (God if you like) will put out progressively more aggressive hints at the need for change in your life, which if you are not setup to hear or do not listen to will result in the universe chucking a brick at you so you cannot ignore the message. The imagery amused me at the time, but I have often wonder about these bricks as various life altering events popped up in my life, like when I lost my partner of 13 years in a car accident. 

I now realise that Oprah may also have made another point I did not get at the time, turning points are not single events but a series of events which bring you into alignment to understand the change you need in your life.
 
Hence, I cannot honestly say that I had a specific turning point, just a series of events that started to converge in a manner that aligned my thinking in a way that brought about a profound insight into myself. This insight I could use to explore my true self. 

In exploring my true self I often say I have not started a new chapter in my life but rather a new book with blank pages I can writing anything on I want. The reason for this is that I believe I am not just continuing a new element of an old story, but rather writing a new story without storylines to the past or preconceptions of how the narrative should effect the future. I will explore my experience with stories in another blog. However, for now I want to underpin the important link I found between my turning point and my stories.

As I said, my turning point was a series of events which if I were to be honest is most of my life in the making. My most physical symptom of this degrading situation with myself was my weight gain. By the time I had had enough in September 2009, I weighed 143,8 kilograms. For the second time in four year I went to a doctor because I had problems swallowing, perhaps it was the universe saying stop eating already, but I was skilfully dodging all bricks. I was ready for a medical solution, but that is not what I was going to get.

In the preceding six months I had gained just on 20 kilograms after having lost 24 kilograms the year before. The weight gain was so rapid and my physical symptoms so annoying that I saw the first of three doctors. It was not my thyroid, heart disease or diabetes, although my cholesterol was sky high. I decided this was my fate and ploughed on progressively bringing back old habits were food ruled my live and the consumption of mass quantities were the norm again.

In September 2009 my oesophagus started its old problem of going into a spasm while I was eating, but this time it was so bad that I could not get it unstuck. I had had enough, I knew it was my weight and I was ready for anything including gastric banding to loose weight. In fact I had checked, my Body Mass Index was 40 so I qualified for this radical procedure.

I saw my third doctor with the intention to ask for a medical solution. He started by challenging two of my stories before I could propose my solution. Firstly he challenged a previous diagnosis of Irritable Bowl Syndrome by basically saying it did not exist. That fired me up to defend my “condition” an important narrative to my life story. However ultimately it was too late he had planted doubt in my strongly held belief in my me-defining stories. 

Secondly he set about proving to me that my body was in a massive self-destruct mode, a collection of reinforcing conditions called metabolic syndrome. 

A  sonar proved my liver was enlarged and fatty. My liver enzymes showed further problems. I had gout-like symptoms with sore joints leaving me feeling and sounding like an old man. My permanently blocked nose and asthma had become so much a part of my life that I did not even think of them as major issues anymore.  Yet these symptoms were all likely reflecting the underlying general inflammation of my body caused by my massive size. 

But it did not stop there, he showed my fasting insulin levels were five times higher than normal, a well known cause for all the tiredness and mental fuzziness I experienced. That aside I was well on the road to follow the rest of my immediate family to becoming a serious diabetic. 

The reality was, in black and white, in hard science, my body was self destructing and only I had the command codes to stop it. This realisation hit at the core my main “fat” story, I’m large but ok I’m not a diabetic or other chronic diseases suffer yet.

There was no pill that could write a happy conclusion to this story, only diet and exercise. Both things I understood well, but at the same time I also knew were difficult for me as lifestyle commitments.

Ultimately I had little choice but to listen to what I was told. But as is my character I augmented all advice with further research and opinions; what was the best diet for metabolic syndrome, what was the pathophysiology of the syndrome, did it even exist. My dietician and doctor were well quizzed as I sought the best answers to my questions.

On 25 September 2009, I had reached the point where I could start this new journey albeit with a very shaky faith in the diet and exercise needed. But I wanted change, I committed to take each day as it came. I now realise that I had started to go with the flow of life (something different than being easy going). This I did reluctantly at first but with an increasing sense of acceptance of letting go.  Soon events in my life started to arrange themselves in ways that challenged my old life stories further, things and people entered my life that gave me motivation and helped me find new ways of knowing myself.

So while you may have thought my turning point would be me reaching a low point in being obese or me finding the silver bullet diet and exercise programme, it was actually not that at all. In reality my turning point was bringing 36 years of life events to a point where I could look at them as things which do not define who I am now, here, today. 

I could for the first time truly appreciate Tolle’s teaching about being able to see the thinking separate from the reality. I now understood the powerful force my pain-body and ego had had on me, which once I had become aware of them, made them loose their powerful grip on my life. Being obese had helped bring me to my turning point, but was not my turning point because for me fat was not the true issue at all just the outward symptom.