The other day, I read in Apple News that the average American woman is 5’4” and weighs 170 pounds. In the article, there was a mention that these numbers were not a means of assessing the general health of the average American woman as that had to be considered with factors such as their blood pressure, “fitness” (however that is assessed), their BMI and their metabolic health.

This prompted me to pull up Chat GPT and ask my AI friend to show me one picture of a healthy 5’4” 170lb woman. Instead of pulling a single image from the worldwide web that offered a good example, Chat GPT actually created an image of a very fit looking brunette. Knowing what I know about size and weight, there was no possible way the created image could represent a 5’4” woman weighing 170 pounds. When challenged on this perspective, Chat GPT admitted that its efforts could not produce such an image from real life.

I am 5’8” and I weigh 140 pounds. For the past several years, I’ve been rolling around at 150ish depending on how much racing I had on my schedule. My freshman year of college, I got up to 189 pounds. Back then, I was lifting prodigiously and drinking the same way. A case of beer in a long, cocaine fueled evening was unremarkable. It was the heaviest I ever got.

While out riding the GPGR, I dropped 12 pounds burning up 3500-5000 calories per day. When I would stand on my pedals for a climb, I could feel the shoulder straps of my bibs shifting across my back and while I was fairly fit when I got them, I no longer “filled” them out. This was thrilling to me.

Fashion icon, Kate Moss, once said, “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” In my opinion, she was right. For me, skinny feels amazing. Upon returning from my cross country trip, I’ve kept the weight off. Though I’m not riding 80-100 miles per day, I am being mindful of what I’m eating. I haven’t binged chocolate chip cookies or snacked on a bag of tortilla chips since I’ve been home. There’s no evening trip to the freezer for a couple of spoonfuls of ice cream. My daily massive bowl of Wheat Chex has been replaced by rolled oats and sliced apple. Collectively, my wife and I are eating way more salad. When I snack, I have tomatoes and cucumbers and grapefruit.

Some of my friends express concern that I’m “too skinny.” My cheeks are a little sunken, some of my clothes are baggy. But good Lord, I take my shirt off and I’m ripped. At 60, I can’t believe this is how I look. When I run, when I ride my bike, I feel even better. Truthfully, my body feels like it’s supposed to feel in my mind: light, powerful, useful to me.

I’ve had periods in my life where I’ve been fat. There’s been 15-20 pounds around my waist that was pure excess and it always felt awful to me. I was uncomfortable in my skin and my clothes. Working out was a chore. Running felt like torture. My lower back and my hamstrings were always too tight and painful. I didn’t want to be touched by my wife or anyone for that matter. That’s a whole lot of life to be missing out on.

And I know there’s a philosophy that life is short, you should take your pleasure where you can. Food is an obvious choice to indulge yourself. But is it really better than feeling fantastic?

I’m in Kate’s camp.