Doing the Undone

 

            There was no sound but that of the light hum of the ceiling fan and a consistent drip from the bathroom down the hallway, and Tolsti lay on top of his sheets, drenched in sweat, ravenously hungry, and lacking the energy or motivation to do anything that required exertion. The light creeping in through the mostly closed blinds was a half-light, that weird level of semi-darkness between daylight and night, a pathetic picture of the quality of Tolsti's soul. He pulled himself up onto one elbow, wearing only his tighty-whiteys and began to root around for the television remote, now bored from the last six hours of video games he had consumed.

              He flicked on the news but could hear nothing, the remote apparently giving its last bit of energy to turn on the TV but not control the volume. A conversation started outside his bedroom window, and he pulled himself to his feet, to crack open the blinds and see his neighbor Alisa talking to another neighbor, Brad, if he remembered correctly, wearing no shirt and showing off his ridiculously carved and tan torso. Tolsti had worked up the courage once, about a month ago, to engage in conversation with Alisa and immediately saw the look of revulsion on her face as he introduced himself.

              He shuffled to the bathroom to take a cold shower to cool himself off in this ridiculous heat and to calm himself after seeing Alisa in her barely there outfit. He stood dripping on the tile floor and made the mistake of critically looking at himself in the mirror, truly appreciating and understanding Alisa's response to his appearance. It had been so long since he weighed himself that he could only venture a guess that he easily topped four hundred pounds and unable to see his own feet. "I couldn't cut my own toenails even if I want to," he thought.

              Looking out the window a second time, he could feel jealousy and disappointment welling up within him, wondering if he could do something, anything to work his way down to at least a thin body and hopefully a muscled one. Fifteen minutes on the internet gave him enough ideas to get started on paring down his weight, a first step of what would likely be a long and uncomfortable journey. Since he had no scale, he figured measurement in inches around his waist would be the most obvious measure of his progress.

              While the experts recommended losing no more than two pounds a week, Tolsti did not have the patience for that slow of a pace, choosing instead to aim for at least four pounds or one inch from his waistline. Waiting until dusk arrived, he found the one pair of shorts that actually fit him and figured that walking around one block would be a good start for the first week, to increase to two blocks each following week.

              Six weeks had passed, and he found the need to put a rubber band around the excess fabric of his shorts to keep them from falling down as he walked. He reached the limit of walking city blocks in which he felt safe, making the choice to walk toward and into the foothills and take advantage of hills and valleys to push himself even harder. Another six weeks passed, and his shorts now hung on him in a ridiculous manner, his shirt as well making him look like a child in adult clothing. Chuckling at himself in the mirror, he made a trip to the local super center for new clothes and a scale.

              He arrived home, stripped down to his underwear, and was thrilled to see that he had dropped just below 300 pounds, the upper limit of the scale. Feeling as if he had conquered the foothills just outside the city, he began further research for bigger hills, steeper inclines, and a more rigorous workout, determined to drop another hundred pounds, his lungs feeling stronger than ever before, as well his sleep improving.

              Each Sunday afternoon he would weight himself, pleased with the results of his uphill running, as well as the pushups, sit ups, and chin ups that began to carve some shape into his once flaccid and flabby body. Feeling stronger and more energetic each day, he met Alisa on the stairwell to receive genuine attention and a brief conversation, initiated by her, which was thrilling but also somewhat rubbed him the wrong way, wondering if this is how people actually lived and thought.

              The overwhelming summer heat had passed, bleeding into mild autumn weather, which now required a sweatshirt for his runs, not allowing the occasional rainfall to stop his progress. Slowly adjusting his diet over the past two months improved his overall feeling of wellness as he watched his weight drop to two-twenty, which of course required an update in his wardrobe.

              Dusk began to fall on a Monday morning, and he jogged down the hallway of his apartment building to meet Alisa on the stairs going out the front door. "Hey, do you want some company?" she asked. "I really should start jogging again. It would be nice to have someone challenge me."

              "Sure, that would be great," he answered. "Just try to be quick as it's starting to get dark out. We don't want to be running in the dark, especially in the hills."

              Tolsti walked with Alisa the six blocks out of town and into the foothills to reach his starting point, with Mt. Seraphim staring down at them, almost offering a challenge to try to conquer it. They reached the four-mile mark and Alisa was gasping and tapping him on the arm. "Hold up, hold up," she said. "How much further were you planning on going, because I'm pretty much spent."

              "We can stop here if you want," he said. "Running down hill is much easier. I wouldn't want to leave you here so we can go back now if you want."

              Disappointed that he needed to cut himself short, the two slowly jogged downhill and back to the apartment. He walked her to her door and not feeling like returning to the hills, he doubled his workout at home to make up for what he had lost in the hills. Presuming that Alisa wouldn't ask again to accompany him on his run, he increased his run time the next day, leaving a little earlier than normal to avoid being in the dark, alone, in the forest, being watched by who knows what creatures or gang activity once he re-entered the city.

              The next day as he left, he received and gave a wave from the sidewalk as Alisa watched him depart, looking somewhat guilty for not joining him a second time, a decision for which he was thankful.

              A full year had passed and after his shower, he looked at himself in the mirror, to then compare himself to the photos he had been taking since the beginning, amazed that the flabby blob that stared at him from the photos was actually the same person he saw in the mirror. Finally taking a moment to document his total miles, he came to realize that his eight miles a day through the foothills and mountains easily surpassed fifty miles a week, just over the length of two marathons and the sense of accomplishment, the sense of victory, and the sense of power he now swam in made him a completely different person.

              He began to observe his fellow apartment dwellers, the people at the super mart, the people at the grocery store, and the people on the street, and came to understand that he was radically different than everyone, no one seeming to care about the state of their overall wellbeing, their minds like mush, their motivation at nearly zero, and living lives that were  nothing more than empty entertainment, empty calories, and instant pleasure.

              It was in that moment that he came to understand that the path he now tread had no end to it, as he could always push harder, accomplish more, and continue to grow, to improve, and become a better person. He had always been an intelligent person but failed to make good use of that sharp intellect, which he was motivated to enhance now that his body was in nearly perfect condition.

              The quality of his inner state needed to be addressed and refined, just as he had spent the last year and a half improving his physical state. He saw the yoga classes, he read about the meditation techniques, and the opening and controlling of his chakras but the question that always remained in his heart and mind was the lack of foundation to any of it. He thought back to his childhood, attending the Southern Baptist church with his grandmother but even that seemed random, arbitrary, and relatively new compared so many other options. He merely needed to research better, understand better, and find the one thing that was true, for there could only be one truth. Either everyone was wrong, or only one of them was right and he was now driven to find the answer.