Yesterday, I weighed myself, for the first time since about mid-April. I fully intend to disclose my current weight and how I feel about knowing — for the first time in five months — aforementioned weight, but first I intend to force you to read a whole bunch of explanatory text, with the hope and intention that you will lose interest in my weight before you find out what it is.
I think, with that first paragraph, I’m off to a good start.
My First Reason For Why I Have Not Recently Weighed Myself: Tradition
Whenever I’ve had a big, important race coming up, I’ve stopped weighing myself between two and three weeks before the race. Why? Because — and this is pure scientific truth, not rationalization — I figure that once I get that close to the race, any weight gain (or, hypothetically, weight loss) is not going to be significant enough to affect the outcome of my race.
Therefore, anything I know about weight I gain right before a race (because, let’s face it, I’m not going to lose weight as I taper down and carbo-load up) is only going to mess with my head.
And so, in mid-April, a couple weeks before the IronMan, I put away the scale.
OK, fine, I guess there might’ve been a couple months in there where I didn’t have a race that was exactly impending.
Which is why I’ve got a very valid, extra-scientific second reason for why I haven’t weighed myself recently.
My Second Reason for Why I Have Not Recently Weighed Myself: Quantum Mechanics!
You may have heard of the “Schrödinger’s Cat Experiment,” wherein the living/dead status of a cat that may or may not have been poisoned is in a state of flux — i.e., the cat is simultaneously alive and dead — until that cat is observed.
It’s a fun experiment, and I recommend the next time you have a child come home with a Science Fair project that you have this child perform this experiment for his or her classmates.
My relationship with the scale is much like the Schrödinger’s cat experiment, except instead of a cat, it is my weight that is not measured. And also, I am not kept in a sealed box, and there are no cyanide tablets or geiger counters involved.
Really, the point I’m trying to get at is that as long as I do not measure my weight, no weight has been gained.
it’s a little more like “Fatty’s Scale.” Which is to say, until I’ve measured my weight gain, no weight gain has occurred. Schrödinger’s cat. Fatty’s weight.
You get the picture.
Why I Have Finally Weighed Myself
The problem with the quantum mechanics aspect of “Fatty’s Weight” is that, at a certain point, other indicators start to make it evident that while I have stopped training like I’m going to be doing a big endurance race soon, I haven’t stopped eating like I’m going to be doing a big endurance race soon.
Or in other words, once you start carbo-loading, you quickly develop a fondness for it.
This has led to — for about the thousandth time in my life — the manifestation of my least favorite (because it’s true) weight-gain axiom, which is deep enough that it belongs on its own line, in bold and italics.
You will know before it shows.
(In fact, it was important enough to indent and put a border around it.)
In this case, I could tell my body is getting ready to hibernate because my pants are tighter. All of them. Which kind of forced me to rule out the “mysterious shrinking pants” theory I otherwise like to cling to so tightly.
My Weight Does Not Matter
So, anyway, for those of you who pushed on through to this point. My weight. It’s 12.07 stone. Which is 169 pounds.
Which is about ten pounds more than I like to weigh.
Or at least, it appeared to be 169 pounds. You see, there were some ameliorating circumstances that make that 169 pounds really quite a bit less than 169 pounds. Specifically:
- I weighed myself in the afternoon. Ordinarily I weigh myself first thing in the morning, right after I pee. I consider that my true weight. Everyone knows that you’re heaviest during the afternoon. Because you’ve had both breakfast and lunch. And probably a few snacks. And around 64oz of Diet Coke. So I expect that this 169 probably counts for eight pounds or so.
- I have recently raced. Everyone knows that you gain weight after a big endurance race. This is due to the “post-race-3-day-binge” factor, as well as serious inflammation (which is a form of water retention, I suspect) factors. I figure this is worth two pounds. And a half.
- I was fully dressed. Actually I can’t remember whether I was fully dressed when I weighed myself. Let’s just assume that I was, though. And let’s further assume that I was wearing very, very heavy shoes. So, maybe seven pounds.
- It’s been a while since I’ve shaved my legs. Oooh, and my head too. And my eyebrow hair needs trimming. Between all the excess middle-age-man body hair I need to prune, that’s probably two or three ounces of weight I can lose instantly with the help of a razor.
So, when it comes right down to it, when I weighed myself, my reported weight was probably around 17.65 pounds too harsh of a judge.
No need to start dieting. All’s well.