Villaflor: Diary of a try-athlete

YES it is possible to lose 20 pounds in 14 days.

You don’t have to take any of those pills, or have a starvation spree.

Updates on President Benigno Aquino III's presidency

All it takes is to go down with dengue.

I did five years ago, but trust me you wouldn’t want to go through such a weight-loss program.

One good thing came out of those anxious two weeks: I managed to look trim without trying.

Lost weight, however, always had its way of finding me. And when it did, some complicated things had to ensue.

First, I was faced with a string of contradictions: too much weight causes injury, which forces one to rest, which in turn leads to weight gain, which prevents physical activity, which leads to more weight gain.

It almost doesn’t end.

I would look in the mirror and laugh myself silly before I can even ponder the question: how far can I grow sideward?

It seemed the ugly possibilities linked to weight gain are limitless. Even doing the simplest of tasks becomes a problem.

My girth started imposing its will. Fitting in my pants had become a Sisyphean task. My shorts ripped without warning. I had to contort my way out of a T-shirt.

I realized there’s no way out of such a predicament except to lose weight.

As early as January this year, I had switched into panic mode when I ended up huffing and puffing while climbing a flight of stairs – one flight of stairs – no thanks to a half-year of inactivity that left my football shoes gathering molds on the rack.

So I drafted myself a health regimen, which I followed to the letter for weeks. It involved lots of running, and it felt good.

It was kind of a coincidence last February when fellow columnist Max, the head of a coven of runners in Cebu, persuaded me to join a quarter of his birthday run. I hesitated at first but eventually yielded to his powers of persuasion.

During the run, Max shared with me the pleasures of running, and at that point I became a convert (in his weakest state, a man will agree to anything).

We talked about our days as teammates in our football club in UP Diliman. Max was one mean defender, the type who would kick an opponent’s balls all the way to Uranus. Now he’s more relaxed, and running, which allows him the introspection that eluded him for years, has become his vocation.

For my part, running, apart from losing weight, was a means to find my way back to the football pitch, which was quicker than I expected.

Only days after that run with Max, I was wearing my club’s jersey in Cebu for a seven-a-side tournament. I was apprehensive at first, considering that I haven’t played for months. But I felt good. Running made me feel good.

As the game started, I made a couple of decent tackles and good runs. Everything went well until two minutes into the match when I badly twisted my left foot as I ran backwards while arguing with the referee over a foul. I collapsed on the ground and squirmed like a manatee out of water.

Two months later, I twisted my foot again while jogging in slow-mo. After a few weeks, I went to a Thai massage parlor where the masseuse succeeded in dislocating my shoulder anew. (Why I deserve such misfortune I do not know.)

I have recovered since that series of silly injuries. I’m back on my feet with some running, dreaming about futsal on the side. My old pants are starting to fit and there’s a lot less wriggling out of shirts.

Things are looking good, except for one problem: I now run tilting sideways. It is not a pretty sight.

And that’s why I run at night when no one’s looking.

(nsvillaflor@gmail.com)