Getting healthy and maintaining it takes some work. I know, because I lost 100 pounds.

To get my head around that, I need to do some comparison. Do you know what weighs 100 pounds? A baby hippo, a full-sized wolf and one of the largest pmpkins in the world.

The weight fell off in chunks during two distinct periods during the course of six years. One of those periods was a 6-month timeframe after I completed five seasons in the National Football League as a 310-pound offensive lineman for the Chicago Bears and Baltimore Ravens. The second period was a 6-month journey that included fasting in the Arizona desert—where I was living at the time—and lifestyle adjustments.

Dozens of former teammates asked me how I did it. Many of them have gone in the opposite direction—adding pounds or staying big and girthy. My response is usually about habit formation—eliminating “bad” ones and building “good” ones. There’s more to it than just good, old-fashioned discipline—some luck, good genetics and support. But without a strong foundation of good habits, any changes for the better aren’t sustainable.

These are 5 practical strategies that worked for me:

1. I felt the bottom. Initially my goal was simple: Walk into a department store and buy a suit off the rack that fit. Sounds easy to do, but with a 19-inch neck, 57-inch chest, and 44-inch waist, that ain’t easy to find. I did everything I thought I should do to lose excess weight. I exercised harder and longer; ate less; ate more frequently; ate all the right foods; ate less carbs, no carbs, different carbs; ate more protein. There came a point where I was confronted by the fact that what I was doing would only get me so far and that I was only partially right. I went from 310 to 270—forty pounds shed—and hit a wall.
2. I redefined my relationship with food. During my football days, a common dinner was three or four chicken breasts, a half pound of pasta, a large bowl of salad and a half pint of ice cream. Maybe a regular human being’s two-day caloric intake? Maintaining size and power was my job. Food is fuel. But we have a tendency to connect emotions and nostalgia to food and we often lose perspective of its fundamental purpose. Before eating anything, I learned to ask myself, “Do I want to eat this, or do I need to eat this?” Food, to me, began to fall into two categories: Life-giving and life-taking. Balance is good. Moderation is healthy. But I wanted to shed a baby hippo from my 6-foot-3-inch frame. I realized that food—good, wholesome food—should be enjoyable and nourishing. I removed almost everything from my kitchen that would tempt me—cookies, candy, cheese, chips, snacks, breads and red meat.  
3. I exercised intensely consistently. There was a time during offseason conditioning that I bunched up my drenched, grey, team-issued workout shirt in my fist and sucked my own sweat out of it. To lose weight, I embarked upon an exercise program that gave me results: lose body fat while increasing lean muscle. I learned how to exercise smarter, not harder. Sometimes less is more.
4. I served others. Volunteering augmented the self-focused work I was doing to transform my body. Focusing my attention and energy on others rather than on myself—my weight, my wellness, those little obsessions we all have—helped me gain perspective. I was doing service work in my community—delivering food for a food pantry and visiting hospice patients. I got perspective on what I needed versus what I wanted. I learned that we all need much less than we think we do to experience fullness.
5. I committed to keeping it off. I looked radically different at 210 lbs, with a 44-inch chest and a 34-inch waist. I remember the first time my family saw me after shedding all that weight. It was shocking for them. My grandmother said, “Are you sick? Are you ok? Is something wrong with you?” They were used to knowing me as a big guy. The pressure from co-workers and friends can be great—to partake in functions or customs that involve sharing a meal that might include things that have been stripped from your new way of eating. I learned how to deal with what I call “food bullies.”

It can be done. Losing 100 pounds was an odyssey. It was just as much of an internal exercise as a physical one. It takes guts to lose the gut.

Emmett Zitelli lives in Kennedy Township and is a contributor for Upper St. Clair Patch. Share your weight loss stories in the comment box below or email Emmett at emmettzitelli@gmail.com.