This is the 2nd time I've read this book, the first was when it was initially published. I must say, I had a startlingly different experience this go 'round, owed primarily to an enormous amount of selfwork and examination of my childhood and young adult life. To put this work into perspective, I am about 100 lbs lighter than I was a year ago, I cycle regularly in a disciplined and healthy way,...
more This is the 2nd time I've read this book, the first was when it was initially published. I must say, I had a startlingly different experience this go 'round, owed primarily to an enormous amount of selfwork and examination of my childhood and young adult life. To put this work into perspective, I am about 100 lbs lighter than I was a year ago, I cycle regularly in a disciplined and healthy way, and food is no longer a tool of self-torture (I no longer ride to eat, nor do I use exercise to sharpen and heighten hunger sensations).
Overwhelmingly, I felt sad for Mr. Magnuson throughout the book, because it seems to me he was simply exchanging one set of shackles for another: clearly, before the radical change his sedentary and self-destructive lifestyle was suicidal: Chain smoking, binge drinking, binge eating, sleep deprivation, etc. It doesn't take a psychologist to grasp that someone who treats themselves this way is extremely unhappy and suffering from a lingering form of depression. When Mr. Magnuson does his '180', he goes from one wild extreme to another: he essentially tortures himself through a starvation diet, consuming roughly half of the amount provided to German POWs in Soviet camps at the end of 1941 while at the same time engaging in an exercise regimen of a semi-professional cyclist. Never did I see a shred of self-empathy or love. 'Suffering' is sanctified in this book as a holy ideal and noble goal; wish 'happiness' had been substituted instead.
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