the Running Jerks leave it all on the Electric Highway

The following is the running story of Paul (aka KryptonianDog), an inspiring dude who writes on the blog “The Running Jerks.” He’s also fundraising for a run through Firstgiving to raise funds for the Chron’s and Colitis Foundation of America. Read this post to learn more and contribute here.

Why am I doing this?

Well, for the abridged version… I got fat. Like really fat. Like embarrassed to take my shirt off fat. And it’s not like it snuck up on me either. I’ve been moderately overweight since sophomore year of college and have stayed around 230-240 for the past four years. I just never had the drive to change anything.

That is until my “come to Jesus” moment on May 1st, 2009.

Now there were signs that things had gotten out of hand. Pictures from my friend’s wedding last Spring showed that my girlfriend attended said wedding not with her boyfriend, but pile of blubber that came a’calling when he heard about the buffet. When I needed to get a new suit for my younger brother’s confirmation, I was fitted for size 40 pants. I promised myself I would never hit that milestone and entertained the notion of walking into the church sans pants.

But on May 1st, things got real real.

It was late at night and I had just finished a fine day of work. I sitting at the computer, no shirt of course, and was trolling around the internet for comic book gossip and funny monkey pictures. For some reason (fallen gummy bear?) I looked down at my belly and was appalled. Something clicked. I had never thought of myself as fat. Sure, I was kinda tubby in “more to love” kinda way. But this stomach was just obscene.

Of course, the first thing that I did was log on to facebook and broadcasted my grief.

“Paul Frommelt just realized that he is physically disgusting. Why didn’t anybody tell me?”


Of course this was an opportunity for my friends to poke a little fun, which was funny, but the sad fact remained. I had let myself go in a big bad way.

Upon learning of my disgusting obesity, I decided that my plan of attack would be in three phases. Phase I: Eat like an adult. Phase II: Run! Phase III: Push some damn weights around. The first phase started the next day. Gone was McDonald’s, Wendy’s, Burger King and sweet sweet Five Guys. Red meat became a no-no. Chicken, rice, green veggies, salads and turkey sandwiches were the way to go.

Phase II started a soon after. Let’s just say that it didn’t start very well. Fun Fact: During the first week of track practice in high school, I ran in red high top Chuck Taylors. Another Fun Fact: I’m an idiot. So I wasn’t really prepared to run. I had a beat-up old pair of shoes and two atrophied sticks that some would consider legs. My first run went like this: run like a zombie for about a mile (the old Romero zombies, not the newfangled Danny Boyle zombies), walk for half a mile, curse my maker and cry a little bit, run home. This went on for about a week until I decided to get a little more serious.

I bought a fancy new pair of running shoes that included a slot for a Nike+ sensor. That’s how I know exactly how far I have run and for how long. That day I learned an important lesson… the more money I spend on this endeavor, the more I can shame myself into running. Plenty of trips to the Under Armor section of Dicks followed.

Anyhoo, starting on May 12th, I set a goal of getting down to 200 pounds by July 5th, 2009. 

I got close, but my torrid affair with running wasn’t over.

For me, running serves a purpose – the purpose of getting rid of my horrible horrible belly. But with my goal weight inching ever closer I risked the very real possibility of falling right off the wagon shooting back up to 240 pounds.

I assume it would go something like this: After stepping off of a scale that reads 199, I would immediately plan a celebration. Celebration requires cake, naturally. Because it would be a very personal celebration – my personal accomplishment – the cake would solely be for me. I imagine that I would lock myself in a room, probably in my underwear and a pointy party hat and eat the entire cake.

Now, eating an entire cake is an accomplishment in itself. You know what that means? More celebratory cake. Finish the cake, celebrate with another cake. The wonderfully chocolaty cycle will continue until the sobs of my girlfriend become too much for me to handle and I leave the locked room, 40 pounds heavier.

I don’t want that to happen. So as my goal weight drew nearer. I decided to set another goal. Luckily, my friend Mike was reaching his own breaking point with his belly. He first tried to literally survive on about 200 calories per day. When he realized that he is an unrealistic boob, he decided start a running adventure of his own.

So a plan was hatched. Mike and I would become marathon runners (I’ll pause for a second to let that sink in.)

We decided that the 2010 Marine Corps Marathon was close enough that we could brag about planning on running it but far enough away that we could wimp out before it got real.
Now, about five months later, I am fifty pounds lighter at 185 pounds. I’ve run over 450 miles during that time and have participated in two 5K races and a 10K. I still have a long way to go, but I like to think I’ve taken a pretty swell first step.

To take part in the Nike+ Human Race and join the team with Paul, click here. Share this story with friends on Facebook & Twitter! To have your running story told, email me at dockin80@gmail.com!