Nutrition & Weight Loss

Sponsored Features

Move Free Ultra® Omega
For your joint health, try Move Free Ultra® Omega. Just one softgel per day contains a blend of Omega-3s from 100 percent krill oil, hyaluronic acid, and the antioxidant astaxanthin. Try it today. movefree.com
Losing Weight by Riding a Bike
I Lost 320 Pounds Riding a Bike
Scott Cutshall was so fat doctors told him he'd die within six months. Then he looked out his window and saw a man riding a bicycle
ByFrank Bures
StumbleUpon Share
Printer Friendly Version
(32)

Late one afternoon in 2002, Scott Cutshall's Grand Am rolled toward the leafy Jersey City, New Jersey, neighborhood where he, his wife and their daughter lived on the ground floor of a brownstone apartment.

 

The car was silent, except for a quiet refrain. "I'm a dead man," the 38-year-old Cutshall said. "I'm a dead man."

 

In the driver's seat sat his wife, Amy, who had asked him to see a doctor about his weight, which then hovered at 427 pounds, and would later top out at 501. In back sat three-year-old Chloe, who Cutshall cared for as best he could given how little he could move.

 

The news was not good. The doctor gave him six months to live without bariatric surgery. With it, the doctor said, Cutshall had a 50 percent chance of making it out of the operating room.

 

"I'm a dead man," said Cutshall, sobbing softly.

 

Over the next few years, even as he defied that dire prediction, every doctor, every authority he consulted would give him equally urgent warnings. Everyone told him the same thing: Lose weight or die. At the doctor's office that day in 2002, Cutshall had voiced the foremost question in his mind.

 

"Do you think I can lose the weight on my own?"

 

"No," the doctor had said. "At your weight, I've never heard of anyone doing it."

 

Cutshall had known despair before this—especially during one bad patch, when Amy had grown so frustrated at his refusal to undergo surgery that she'd taken Chloe and left. For good? For a little while? He didn't know. But while she was gone, Cutshall had followed the only path he could see out. He'd gone into the bathroom with a box cutter and carved open his wrists.

 

Then he'd waited. He had waited for the struggle, for the hopelessness to slip away.

 

But they hadn't. They were still there. He was still there. So he cut deeper. It had hurt more, but still, nothing had happened. Later the doctors would tell him that because he was so obese, his blood kept clotting and pooling inside his wrists. Being fat had saved his life...for a while.

 

Now, as the car stopped outside his apartment, Cutshall opened the door and reached for the ground with his foot. He pushed off the steering wheel to get himself out, but the column cracked loose under his weight. Somehow, he managed to exit and lumber up the front stairs. There, he settled back into the deep hole he'd dug for himself.

 

As he sat there with his family, Amy told him something he would never hear from anyone else.

 

"I think you can do it yourself," she said. "But you have to want to." Cutshall was always fat; it runs in his family. Growing up in Meadville, Pennsylvania, he and his older brother blew up right around puberty, no matter how much they ran, how fast they swam, or how hard they rode their bikes. Their swim coach called them Gut and Minigut.

 



Want more Bicycling? Subscribe today and get 2 free gifts.
 
Facebook Icon Twitter Icon Yahoo! Icon LinkedIn Icon