Overall, it's worked out pretty well. I'm rapidly approaching that horrid half-century mark in my inexorable march toward entropy and my weight really never got over 79.4 kg in the last year, and even then, I think I carried it well, as I am 1.77m tall.
But what happens when the cycle breaks? What happens when the running stops (for whatever reason)? For me, the eating had to stop. No exercise = no food.
That became an issue that I now realize was/is a problem. In about 5 months, I shed 12.25 kg, down to a less-than-healthy-but-ripped-looking-if-you-like-ribs-and-abs-poking-out weight of a touch over 67 kg. That's a weight my body hadn't seen since 1977, before I joined the high school wrestling team.
I realize that food is required in quantities more than what I've been eating – simply to sustain a healthy and active body. I need to ensure I eat, especially when my blood sugar drops. That's when I'm more inclined to perpetuate my Foodiban as part of my overall strategy of hating everything: the very time I need to eat. There you have it: me – training to be the first middle-aged, male anorexic. But now that I realize it, I can take steps to reverse the trend.
You can help. Next time you see me, tell me "Sudo, go eat a sammich." If I laugh, I'm probably OK. If I glower at you instead, insist. Because I probably need it.