text: It was a dreary day in North Toowoomba, it had rained all through the night and fog was hanging thick across the city. This wasn’t going to stop Kyle though, not today, nothing was going to stop him. Kyle took his time getting dressed, deliberately choosing out his outfit. A tight set of underwear to prevent chaffing, loose fitting shorts and an over-sized shirt to hide his body. He had to sit to be able to get his brand new bright red Nike runners on. Kyle wasn’t sure he’d ever worn runners before, he thought that he probably had at some point when he was a child, but he couldn’t pinpoint ever having worn a pair. Kyle had spent the best part of two weeks preparing for this day. He had read thousands of fitness articles online pouring over the seemingly limitless weight loss advice. He’d read about the importance of a good pair of running shoes, how a fitness routine should ramp up slowly to allow the body to adjust, he’d even spent time learning the science behind how fat actually leaves the body. He’d gone out and bought his outfit especially, knowing that he would be donning this outfit three times a week for the rest of the year. It was two weeks ago that Kyle had made the decision that he was going to do this. He’d already begun adjusting his eating habits, cutting out soda and starting to cook his own meals even if they were only simple and nowhere as delicious as KFC or McDonalds. Kyle had always struggled with his weight, even as a child. Back at school he’d been teased over it with kids calling him things like man-tits and lard-ass. At the time he’d acted as if he didn’t mind, like it was all water off a ducks back. Truth was though that it had destroyed him inside and every day after school he would turn to the only thing he knew to make him feel better: Fast Food. He’d loved fast food his whole life, KFC, McDonalds, Burger King... These foods had been both his best friends and his worst enemies. They had brought him comfort when he was depressed and offered him a small sparkle of light in an otherwise dark lonely existence. At the same time these foods had fueled his weight gain and helped him to balloon out to over 200 Kgs. It was time for a change, time for Kyle to start living. “Well this is it” Kyle muttered to himself as he stepped out the front door. Quickly he tried to visualise his goal, what would it look like for him to be thin, to be normal, to be healthy. Slowly Kyle made his way down his front stairs, out the front gate and turned to look down his street. “Only 2 Kms” he said to himself “Only 2”. With a sense of fear and apprehension Kyle started, forcing one foot in front of the other he began to move off. “Concentrate on breathing, take it slow, it’s not a sprint its a marathon” the advice from the thousands of articles starting to roll through Kyle’s head as he went. He wondered if anyone was watching him, if any one was laughing at this whale of a human attempting to run. Logically he knew that it was unlikely, the fog made it impossible for him to see more than ten feet in front of him so how would anyone else be able to see him. But still his emotional side started to drop insidious ideas into his head “They are all laughing at you” “You look ridiculous”. Kyle knew this would happen and he was prepared. Just as the articles had taught him he began to focus. “Breath in for 2 paces, breath out for 2 paces.” slowly Kyle continued concentrating on each step and each breath, not allowing his mind to wander. As Kyle reached toward the end of his block he could feel his legs starting to protest, an unfamiliar burn taking hold of his thighs and calves. But still Kyle kept at it pace after pace, meter after meter. A huge smile shot across Kyle’s face as he turned around at the corner of Isaac St and Marmont Dr. He knew that he had reached the halfway point. He just needed to make it back home now. The turn around slowed Kyle, and he could now feel his face flush with heat. The weight of his body made running harder for him, each pace he took there was nearly a quarter tonne being moved. Kyle began to wheeze as he passed the Bourne Family house. This was it he thought, only 300 meters to go. Just as he started to mentally celebrate Kyle’s body went in to full protest, his heart rate spiked, he could no longer control his breathing. With legs that felt as though they were made of concrete, Kyle began to slow. Huffing and puffing and feeling a previously unknown pain Kyle’s brain went into over-drive to convince him to stop. To give up. To walk. But there it was, his fence line, only 50 meters left now. He couldn’t stop, not now, not when he was this close, he’d never be able to look at himself in the mirror again. No Kyle would not slow, Kyle would not walk. Today was his day. With a near herculean effort Kyle forced himself to pick up pace. And finally, with his heart beating like a Viking war drum and an unbearable acid burn in his legs Kyle reached the small white gate that marked the end of his track. As he hitched over vomiting into his front garden Kyle felt it. For the first time in as long as he could remember Kyle felt proud. Not of someone else, not of a friend achieving a goal, or of his Mum winning another sewing competition. No for the first time in his life Kyle felt proud of himself. Kyle would run again. But first, it was time for some water and a long sit down.