In my prime I stood 6 feet 1 inch tall. I weighed in at 166 pounds. Like an unfortunate number of Americans, I loved cheeseburgers, pizza, an adult beverages now and then. I was fond of cigarettes, too. None of which worked in my favor in the long run.
Today, in my dotage, I’m a bit shorter than I used to be. I’m also heavier. Quite a bit heavier. At my peak I tipped the scales at 240 pounds. In recent years I’ve shaved that down by more than a dozen units. Still too big.
I’m working on it.
One of the immutable aspects of flight that is that weight cannot be finessed out of our calculations. It must be measured carefully, placed in the appropriate location, or discarded. There is no wiggle room. The airplane itself has mass and weight. As does fuel, baggage, passengers, and the pilot.
Weight matters.
The first noticeable experience most pilots have with the effects of weight involves their first solo. When the instructor signs the appropriate paperwork, steps out of the airplane, and sets their student loose something amazing happens. I suspect every single one of us remembers the experience vividly. Even decades later, the memory is sharp and in focus.
Suddenly, without warning, the airplane performs like a champ. It accelerates down the runway more quickly. It leaps off the ground with abandon. It climbs like never before. The whole experience is exhilarating.
That boost in performance is not imaginary. It’s real. And it happens not because of our incredible skill or the perfection of our technique. It happens because a significant percentage of the weight we’ve previously lifted into the sky is now standing on the ramp below us.
As much as I loved my 1940 J-3 Cub, I was not so enamored of its 1,220 pound maximum gross weight. An empty weight of 775 pounds, combined with 72 pounds of fuel, and my big 225 pound bulk in the back seat leaves only 148 pounds available for a passenger. That essentially left me with the option of flying solo, or with a slender woman, a child, or an average American from 1942.
If I were to solo a student in the Cub, the loaded weight of the aircraft would decrease by 18% when I stepped out.
Even the venerable Cessna 150/152 series suffered a similar issue. The aircraft is slightly larger, more powerful, and has a larger maximum takeoff weight, but it also carries a heavier empty weight with larger fuel tanks that can hold more of a gravitational burden.
We can argue this point forever, but the truth is modern Americans have become large enough to present a serious burden for our smaller, lighter, more efficient aircraft to carry.
This leaves us with the inescapable conclusion that we have two ways of reducing weight in the aircraft.
One is easy. Leave the passenger behind. Go solo.
I’ve spent a lot of time aloft as the only occupant of the aircraft. It’s nice. But flying solo can’t hold a candle to the joy of flying with someone who appreciates the experience. There is no solo adventure that comes anywhere near the satisfaction I’ve enjoyed by allowing my passenger to take the controls to savor the full experience of flight. At least not for me.
I’ll take flying with a happy passenger over flying solo any day.
Which leads us to the other option. The hard way. This is where we accept the reality that it’s worth shedding a bit of our own weight rather than simply barring the aircraft’s door.
Make no mistake, losing weight is hard. It takes diligence. It requires persistence. We can’t just diet for a week or so, then pig out on ice cream, stromboli, and pancakes piled high on our plate. We have to think and act in a way that leads to a long-term win.
This requires a whole new way of living. A change in our behavior. Because as we know, our odds of success or failure in any endeavor are directly connected to the behavior we exhibit while on that path.
Me, I’ve decided to take the plunge, to change my life. Now that I’m old enough to be eligible for Social Security, Medicare, annual skin cancer screenings, and prostate issues, it’s time for me to get serious about whipping myself into some sort of shape. Preferably one that can be described as something other than roundish.
The process is simple, which is not to say it’s easy. Change is hard. At the very least it’s initially uncomfortable. Positive change is worth the trouble, however. We all know that’s true — even if we’re not ready to make the leap just yet.
If we change our diet to include more real food (food that comes directly from a farm or garden) and less that is processed (food that comes in a box from a factory), we’ve made a positive change. When we commit to getting more exercise, we become better versions of ourselves. Even if that exercise is no more than a walk around the neighborhood every day, our bodies will respond positively to the effort.
As in all things, progress can be slow. But progress is progress.
When I joined my local running club a year ago, I struggled to run three blocks. I ran with and often well behind the group three to four times a month. Over time, I improved and I participated more often.
Today I walk or run every day. I typically cover two and a half miles before I start my work day then repeat the route in the evening. As a result, I’m down a few pounds. I can run a mile or more while keeping pace with another runner. I can even talk as I run without discomfort.
Given the option of losing weight by rejecting a passenger or losing weight by participating in a social activity that makes me stronger, lighter, and healthier, I’ll take the latter.
No, I’m not Olympic quality. I’m not setting records or impressing the neighbors. But I am becoming a better version of myself over time. Something that any one of us can do with the appropriate guidance, commitment, and execution.
Why wait for New Year’s Eve to gift yourself with a better, healthier future? It’s time to prioritize yourself. I truly hope you do just that. I’m glad I did.
Running/walking is good for overall health, but resistance training is key to losing weight. I do pushups and squats, low and slow, each morning. And I can do that anywhere. That combination keeps me fit and at a steady and healthy weight. 74 years old, 180 and 6’. Still have to work on flexibility to get in and out of my Tri-Pacer!
When costing a weight loss program for my aircraft I quickly realized it is MUCH cheaper to eat less!
Thanks for sharing this overweight tale to our general aviation communities, were still is an certain unawarness of the Mass and balance importance. Ignoring a few kilo’s or fwd or aft limit is still happening today… But never forget, these wunderfull inventions will fly for you all the way and even gets airborn, but when Murphy comes around, a little change in the breeze or some carb ice issues can be enough to sink back uncontrolled to mother earth… so to all, like Jamie, controls those weights 😉 and have a merry christmas.