Here. You need this more than I do.

Those of you who are on my friends list know that even though I have lost 53 pounds in 2 1/2 months, I had a bit of an eating challenge this morning. It culminated in me writing the following update about 3 hours ago:

"Lesson learned. I was feeling good about my accomplishments over the past 3 or so months. So I played around with a BMI calculator. Turns out, I need to lose 198 more pounds JUST TO GET OUT OF THE OBESE CATEGORY. That news would have destroyed old Scott. New Scott is going to throw on his walking shoes and burn this combination of anger, frustration and sadness."

Shortly after writing that update, I headed out to walk without Mrs.TFT for only the second time since early August. I needed some time to think things through in solitude. The first two miles of my walk were uneventful. Then, something happened as I headed down the Renwick Drive straightaway. About two blocks in front of me-- through my sweat streaked eyeglasses-- I noticed an older woman in a straw hat pushing what looked like a little dog in a wheelie cart in front of her. The woman was holding what looked like the other end of a leash connected to her dog. I was curious why the dog was in a cart, so I sped up my pace to catch up with her. After two blocks of my quickened pace, I realized that I hadn't made up any ground at all. This "old bird" was matching me stride for stride.

Finally, as I was about to make the turn onto Braesvalley Drive, the older lady stopped walking and appeared to bend down and pet the dog. This was my chance to catch up to her and see what was going on. I started walking even faster, sweat streaming down my forehead and splashing against my now saturated shirt in the warm, muggy and still Houston morning. As I caught up to the older woman, I realized that the "dog" in her cart wasn't a dog at all. It was an oxygen machine. The "leash" was an oxygen line connected to a clear plastic mask over her nose and mouth. Even with supplemental oxygen, this lady-- at least 20 years my senior-- was walking as fast as me, or faster.

As I caught up to her, she turned to look at me. I said, "good morning." She said, "good morning." We looked at each other for a moment. The older lady obviously saw that I was breathing hard and sweating up a storm. She moved the oxygen mask away from her face, gestured toward me with it, smiled, and said, "it looks like you need this more than I do." I laughed, politely declined her generous offer, and wished her a great rest of her Sunday.

As I continued down Braesvalley Drive to Chez TFT, I realized that whatever "crisis" I faced earlier that morning, a lot of other people are facing far more serious challenges in their own lives with poise, dignity and grace. It was a good reminder that while I am truly fighting for my life and health, I have the capacity to "cure myself" simply by eating less. Other people are not quite as fortunate. Today is suddenly feeling much brighter.