One of the things of certainty most people know about me: A bet taken with the remote chance for me to win is money in the bank.
Some of the guys at work came up to me one morning discussing the need they had for various reasons to lose some weight. Having successfully acquired a Heathrow injection on my arrival I figured it was probably a good idea for myself to participate. Knowing my mental attitude I figured I would need something a little more to drive my motivation. Mentioning the propostion of involving a wager intrigued my colleagues and in a short space, a cast of 10 had included themselves in the challenge.
The rules: Most weight lost as a % of total body weight. 1 month was the duration of the competition. Winner takes all.
As we discussed what our potential weight loss would be I assumed a 10kg limit was achievable. 2.5kg a week seemed a reasonable assumption. It was discussed amoung a few of us over the morning coffee (which was now an apple in place of my favoured latte). One of the chaps scoffed at my assumption and provoked a response "Care for a wager on that?" Thus I had him offer to double the pot if I could achieve the goal (and give it up if I didn't make it). The thought never crossed my mine that I wouldn't lose either of these but the potential was there to be out £220.
I commenced the first week with total booze ban and fitness kick. Jogging 5km everyday and swimming 3 times a week. My diet changed rapidly and the clincher was no booze. It became apparent to others (but also myself) that I was not an entertaining goon on the evenings of social activities but never the less let the reputation take a beating for the good of the bet. My cockiness was showing after the first day when I decided to "pre" spend my winnings on a Wii fit. After the first week my weight had come down 4kg.
Amazed at the rapid loss a few people mentioned that was likely but it would get much harder from here on. This appeared to be true - I only lost 3 kg after the second. Half way there and one of my close friends was having a deportation party as the Visa had run its course. The girl and I attended where I came to the realisation why bars and clubs serve booze - there is nothing fun about them without it.
At the end of the third week I had lost just short of 9kg total. This rather excited me and I actually trained even harder - figuring hitting the goal early would be able to slow everything down.
For some reason during the final week my body hit a wall and my weight did not want to drop anymore. 2 days out from the weigh in I still had 1 kg to go. Being the determined man I am, I figured the only thing to do was hit runway model / jockey mode. I stepped up the training and stopped the food intake. The night before the weigh in I put on as many layers of clothes that would fit and wrapped myself up in several blankets.
Sure enough I woke up in the morning drenched through but feeling in good shape to hit the scales. I had another jog before hitting work. The weigh in was later in the day so I decided to check on the scales what my last ditch efforts had produced. In utter frustration my weight loss was at 9.9kg. I headed to the pool with one of my colleages to try and knock off the last gram.
Upon returning to work a crowd had gathered for my weigh in. A number of people had mentioned it was rather noticeable however I was still worried about the last gram. Jumping on the scales I was impressed to see a total loss of 10.3kg stare back at me. A few people were in disbelief that I had lost that amount but I headed straight to the water cooler to try and replenish the bodies reserves. The closest rival was 4% behind me so I cleaned up the full £400.
On the way home I felt rather lightheaded and had to stop several times with the stars spinning in my eyes. It is safe to say that it was a rather unhealthy venture but enduring the hardship made it rather more satisfying.
"It's all about the Benjamins"
