Jack of Harts

Captain William Carter has worn a lot of hats over the years. He’s been a Texas Ranger since the first Rangers fought Santa Anna. He’s fought otherworldly creatures and threats to mankind for longer than that. From the Delaware River to Santa Fe to California, he’s worn a lot of names, seen a lot of lifetimes, and most people have no idea he even exists. But the denizens of the otherworlds know him well. He’s a man of Earth who holds them accountable for their actions. And whatever name he signs for the government census as the decades go by, those who know, know him well. He is Captain William Carter. Texas Ranger. Hunter of otherworldly creatures and threats to mankind.

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I’m bouncing off the top of two sixty right now. I was darn near close to two eighty at the beginning of the year, so touching two sixty is pretty amazing. Getting under it is the challenge of course. I continue to exercise, and need to keep my portions small, but a body that has been not been exercising enough tends to complain about it.

Even with modest and careful exercise, I have a lot of aches and pains that are making it difficult. But I see weekly progress. Even as my weight will sometimes plateau for a week or two or three, my conditioning improves. I’m not losing muscle weight. I’m actually gaining it, which is good, even as it hampers the goal of losing weight. But the goal is to lose weight in a healthy way, so I’m perfectly happy to take stagnation in actual weight loss if it includes stronger muscles.

But there are a number of things that are better. I can fit in all of my shirts better, and can actually take off most of them without unbuttoning the wrist cuffs now. My belly continues to shrink, and I am losing the beer gut, even though I’ve never been a drinker of beer. There’s still a little bit at the bottom trying to hang on for old time’s sake, but I intend to see that gone in the weeks to come. I said before I can fit my Green Lantern ring on my middle finger now, when I never could before.

And I just slipped on an old birthday present for the first time in years. No… not that one. It’s a Celtic Ring my mom bought me decades ago. I stopped wearing it because it became too tight. It fits me again. And then there are the shoes. I never fully understood the meaning of the phrase “My shoes are too tight, but it doesn’t matter because I have forgotten how to dance.” But many of my shoes had become too tight. I could walk in them, but I had to take them off many times a day because my feet were too cramped. They no longer are. My shoes are no longer too tight.

So many little things. I have a short term goal that I intend to hit. The Minnesota State Fair is coming. I intend to be under two sixty when I walk onto the fair grounds. That will feel amazingly good.