Seeing Green vs. Seeing Red
People see the world in green or red. I believe this to be a universal truth, it’ll just take me a few hundred words to explain.
There are, of course, exceptions to this rule. And, of course, compromises. Sometimes people have the ability to see green one day and red the next. Some can see the world through both green and red lenses at the same time (hello, it’s me), resulting in a muddy brown.
The easiest example I can provide of this conundrum is the story of how my yard almost cost — then eventually saved — my literal life.
I love trees, just not in my yard.
That was a big motivation for my wife and I building a house in Northeast, Ohio. Before covid, my wife and I lived in an awesome ranch four miles from the place we call home now. If location is the first priority, we nailed that decision a while ago.
My second priority was the yard. I grew up in a house with three enormous maple trees, so every fall, there was a minimum of two weekends dedicated to leaves. The house my wife and I lived in prior to our forever home had four maple trees. It’s like some (actual heroic) villain knew I was coming 80 years ago, and they planted seeds that would pop up in my nightmares like Freddy Krueger the moment I started having back problems in my 30s.
I love trees, really. I just hate leaves… when I’m responsible for picking them up. Or… there might be some legitimate hate for trees when they’re falling on my literal bedroom.
All I’ve ever wanted was a nice, rectangular yard with fresh, green grass. That’s what the home we were building would definitely have. So my wife and I went to work finding the right lot, then the right builder, then the right model, then the right time. And as Covid was raging its way through society, we quietly built our dream.
The only problem was our builder didn’t handle the yard or any landscaping. That was all on me.
When we found the money to install our yard (grass costs nearly five figures, unless you find the right grass man), we were so excited. The contractors spent two days leveling the yard, getting all the rocks off the property, laying topsoil and seed, and finally, putting the protective hay down so hungry birds didn’t loot our yard.
And then 10 minutes after our grass experts left, God showed up. We’d had an unusually dry summer, but an intense September rain began and my wife and I momentarily celebrated the fact that we wouldn’t have to water that night.
But then the rain started coming down harder. Then harder still. Then… destructively still.
Ten minutes of rainfall washed away thousands of dollars and hours of work.
This is what seeing red looks like.
The landscaper came back out and over-seeded the areas hit the hardest, but the damage was already done. The level and even topsoil had been disrupted by the heavy rainfall, and when the grass came in, it was patchy and uneven.
A literal act of God. Looking out at my yard, I still see red, even though the green has come through.
Over the ensuing three years, I fought two battles. The first was with my yard. Oh holy hell was it a pain to get this stretch of grass looking respectable. And the second battle was with my… weight.
Since I was a teenager, I’ve struggled with my weight. It started with an unhealthy relationship with food. Emotional regulation wasn’t a hot topic in my house growing up, so food was always how I gave myself comfort. And with the stresses of adulthood, fatherhood, home ownership and bad yard-ership, I needed a lot of comfort.
That’s what led to me gaining 40 pounds over three years.
In the summer of 2024, my wife, kids and I went on a vacation to Edisto Beach, which morphed into a five-day vacation in Charlotte thanks to literal tornados and a hurricane. The vacation got washed out very similarly to my yard, but I was secretly grateful. No sunshine meant no need for me to be in a swimsuit at 275 pounds.
But it was in that week of sadness that I decided to make a change. My life was remarkably perfect — there’s the stunning wife and two beautiful kids, a home that I love, and relatively good health, outside of what doctors would describe, “a little bit of a weight problem.”
So I went to work on that, very quietly. And I used the one thing that was out of alignment in my life to address my weight.
The yard.
In our previous house, we had a riding mower and a garage/shed big enough to accommodate a riding mower. Our new house had neither, so I was left with a push mower with self-propelled functionality,
That suited me just fine. I didn’t want or need a gym membership to lose the weight. All I needed was that trusty push mower. I started small by letting off the self-propel feature for two lines of my third-of-an-acre yard. By the end of that second line/strip, I thought my heart was gonna beat/explode its way out of my chest.
It was a humiliating demonstration for a guy who, 12 years prior, was running a marathon at a sub-nine-minute pace.
275 pounds and unhappy vs. 215 pounds and happy
It’s hard to say I was seeing any shade of color in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t green.
But I kept at it, because that’s what weight loss requires. I slowly started making better food choices. Instead of sneaking Wendy’s in between meals or ordering Taco Bell after a few too many drinks, I started eating at home. Or at least, I started substituting those bad decisions with better ones.
And the next time I mowed the yard, I was able to get three lines down before collapsing.
It went on like that for 14 months. The lines got easier, and so did the eating. By the time fall of 2025 rolled around, I had lost the 40 pounds I had gained in our new house, plus 20 extra pounds on top of that.
Losing 60 pounds in 14 months was not easy, especially when I kept my “weight loss goals” a secret from everyone, my wife included. I didn’t need the added pressure of people watching my progress — I prefer to let the results speak for themselves, and they have.
These days, I’m not anxiously stepping on the scale hoping to see a lower number. I still check my weight — every morning in fact — but now it’s with determination, not hope. I want to know the number every morning as a status update:
How did I do yesterday?
How do I want to do today?
Both questions are free of judgement and matter-of-fact. It’s seeing green and red at the same time.
And that, in effect, is how my yard saved my life. I know it’s a bit of a stretch, but I can only describe the tightness in my chest when I watched that rain wash away all the hard work in our yard that September evening. My family’s ugly history with heart issues and blood pressure manifested as ugly as possible in that moment, and it scared me straight.
In the end, it all worked out. I used that yard to push myself (and a 100-pound mower) around, and the result was a healthier husband and dad who’s going to be around a lot longer because he’s taking care of himself.
Oh and that yard… That’s turning itself around as well 😏
