Down the stretch they come!

This the part of the race when the announcer gets all dramatic and starts forgetting to breathe.

Much of the race has already been run; there's only a handful of horses still in contention. The rest have fallen behind, perhaps daydreaming about going out to stud or worrying about a trip to the glue factory. Hell, I don't even care for horse racing and have no real betting interest, but this is the point when I perk up and get ready for the finish.

Of course, I am not a horse. I am not going to make the obligatory Mr. Ed reference there either. I can't even run very fast (but I'm working on it). In nuptial terms, however, I am very much approaching the finish, and it's a bit exhilarating.

In 28 days- that's one month or a movie title later, whether it be a Sandra Bullock chick flick or a zombie thriller- all the buildup will be over. The months of planning (and, let's face it, most of it by Megan) will have been completed. She and I will be married, and in turn, begin the actual marriage part of the whole shebang. There will be no more bachelor parties or bridal showers, at least not for us. We start (excuse the cliche) the rest of our lives, and it is a cool feeling to be where we are.

Part of me feels like Red at the end of Shawshank, excited to be starting a new adventure. But, at the risk of sounding a bit sappy, I know exactly what I am entering. Megan and I have been together for almost three years, and there are few surprises any more. It's nice to have someone who knows every aspect of me, and who fell in love with me when I was less than happy with the way I looked.

She is a remarkable woman and a beloved teacher. Together, we make a great pair, and we are very much ready for getting married. I'm eager to stomp the glass, and even more eager to embark on the honeymoon cruise. Mostly though, I'm eager to make it all official, and to have her as my wife.

Author's note: The sappy part of the blog ends now.

The pending wedding date also means it's almost time to make good on this little pledge o' mine. With less than a month to go, I am currently more than 75 pounds lighter than I was when I started this blog. I hit that figure last week, following another kamikaze few days at the gym. I am less than five pounds away from 80. I have lost more than 25 percent of my body weight.

In effect, Chubby Matt (or Griff, or Big Pun), is disappearing. He's always going to be lurking, but I no longer live in fear of him taking over my life. He has been replaced with a new, sleeker model. It's like trading in the bulky minivan for something sportier and with better gas mileage. Dear lord, it appears my stomach is having a midlife crisis... and I'm only 28 years old.

Seventy-five pounds also means more Weight Watchers bling, should I ever stay through a meeting. Things have been extremely busy lately, and it's been pretty difficult motivating myself to attend an entire meeting any more. At this point in the program, I feel like I know what I need to do. I am motivated to get this done, and I am winning.

I am going to try like hell to get to 80 pounds. Sometimes, you get some extra help when you didn't necessarily want it, like the day after your bachelor party. Most of the time, though, it is a struggle. I know the real battle will be later, when it is time to maintain this body for the rest of my life and not allow myself to go the way of the Duncan yoyo. I have a set goal, and if there's one thing I've learned about myself during this experiment, it's that those goals are more than empty promises to me. They mean something, and there is genuine satisfaction with setting a high mark and being able to reach it.

The other question is what happens with this blog. By my count, over the last 10 months or so, I've posted almost 60 times, and written the equivalent of a novel or memoir. I know I'm not going to continue the blog forever. There will be other goals and quests, and certainly other things to write about. But I worry about losing this crutch. This blog keeps me honest and puts me under the microscope. What happens when I take that away, and no longer have to hold myself accountable to an audience?



The challenges aren't going to cease. Motivation will have to come in different forms.



This has been so much fun. Writing is cathartic, and especially now that my journalistic days are behind me, it's imperative for me to find an outlet. In the weeks to come, I promise there will be more posts, and when I return from the honeymoon, there will be a conclusion. Perhaps- no promises, but just perhaps- there will be some poolside photos of me taken on the ship that I might just get brave enough to post.



So yes, I am in the final stretch, in so many different ways. Here's to a hell of a finish to what has been a tremendous ride.



And STATS is off to a big lead!



Days until wedding: 28. Really, at this point at night, it's closer to 27, but who's counting?

Weight lost in Week 40-41: 2.6 lbs

Total weight loss after Week 40: 75.2 pounds

Progress toward 60 lb goal: 125.33333 percent

Progress toward 80-pound goal: 94 percent

Weight left to lose: 4.8 pounds. That's 1.2 per week. Photo finish!

Things I know about horse racing: Secretariat was a good horsie?

Current obsession: World Cup Soccer, Wendy's as hangover cure

Cure to obsession: All vuvuzela, all the time.

An ode to Violet Beauregarde....

"Violet, you're turning Violet, Violet!" What an apt quote from what I consider one of the greatest character downfalls of all time.

For those of you not raised on Roald Dahl or Gene Wilder, Violet Beauregarde was one of the five children lucky enough to find a golden ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. Like everyone except Charlie Bucket, she does not make it through the tour. Her fatal flaw is her love of chewing gum, and when she chews the wrong piece, she becomes the world's largest blueberry.

Violet's endgame was my favorite part of the classic 1971 film (note: as far as I'm concerned, Gene Wilder is Willy Wonka, and Tim Burton's 2005 film can go straight to hell). Now, when I think about the scene, I get a little hungry.

The world's largest blueberry? If it weren't an act of cannibalism, that would be delicious.

For months now, I've craved all things blueberry. Whether pie, yogurt, or one night when I ate an entire container, those little purplish orbs have delighted me as much as chocolate, and that's coming from a man who enjoys his Kit Kat bars.

My best friend and his wife are the parents of an adorable 2-year-old girl. With her, they pulled off a genius ruse. Instead of serving her dessert in the form of cookies or pudding, they gave their daughter blueberries as an after-dinner treat. The result? The little girl now associates blueberries with dessert, and for much of her young life, has desired the fruit among all other snacks.

Yet every time they feed her the blueberries, I secretly get a little jealous. Hell, I'm plenty cute too. Where are my berries?

This craving has me puzzled. For years, I would satisfy hunger (or boredom) with peanut butter, ice cream, bread, chocolate, or a combination of three or more of those things. There really is nothing like a peanut butter sandwich sundae. Now, I'm Jonesing for blueberries or pineapple, and have been ignoring 100-calorie packs of cookies in favor of fruit or yogurt.

What the hell is wrong with me? When did I, a man who once valued Hostess products as highly as currency, become a healthy eater? Why do I now dream about salad instead of fried chicken? And, above all, when did blueberries become my own personal crack-cocaine?

I've heard that pregnant women will often crave foods rich in nutrients their body needs to help their babies develop. Granted, I don't believe that I am pregnant, given the whole "Matt's a dude" thing, but maybe there's some subconscious biochemistry going on here. Blueberries are rich in antioxidants, are low in calories, and are generally considered to be very healthy for you. Pineapple is loaded with Vitamin C, and my other favorite fruit, the banana, is valued for its potassium.

Lately, I've been testing my body to its absolute limits. It's become my norm to burn 1400+ calories in addition to 30 minutes of weight training on an almost daily basis. I've been waking up at 5:30 in the morning in order to get to the gym by 7 and get full workout before heading to the office. Night owl Matt is gone, for the most part: on weeknights, the lights are usually off by 10:30. I'm pretty serious about my commitment here, and a recent visit to the doctor gave me good reason to stay positive and dedicated.

I know that as soon as I stop my little routine, I risk packing the pounds back onto my frame. Yo-yoing is more than common; according to my doctor, about 99 percent of people who have lost 100 pounds end up gaining it all back. Going back to my worst weight, I've lost about 105 pounds.

I don't want to be among the 99 percent. I've worked too hard, and it would be a shame to revert back to the days of having people tell me I look like Peter Griffin.

So maybe my body is craving fruit for a good reason. I need to get those vitamins and potassium from somewhere, and as nice as Fiber-One bars taste, I'd much rather have a banana. And, hopefully, these new healthy eating habits will continue for a long time.

So bring on the Yoplait. And, if you see Violet Beauregarde around, give her a wink and send her my love.

You know what goes great with blueberry pie? Some STATS a la mode!


Days until wedding: 39. Holy Schnikes.
Weight lost in Week 38: 2.2 lbs
Total weight loss after Week 34: 72.6 pounds
Estimated amount of weight lost since last official weigh-in: 1.4 pounds
Total estimated weight loss, based on gym scale: 74 pounds.
Progress toward 60 lb goal: 123.3333 percent
Progress toward 80-pound goal: 92.5 percent
Consecutive weigh-ins without gaining weight: 1
Weight left to lose: 6 pounds. I got this!
Favorite foods with blueberries: scones, muffins, yogurt, pie, pie, pie, buckle, cobbler, or just let me dive into a blueberry bucket
Attitude toward strawberries: bah. Gross berry with bad texture. Stay the hell away from my chocolate and vanilla ice cream and get your own damn carton!