HAVE GUT, WILL TRAVEL

Local fat guy walks it off

By COSMO MACERO, JR

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Let's make something clear: I am a seriously fat motherfucker.

I haven't been south of 300 pounds since 1998.

Even when I was thin(ner), I was pretty fat. I played football in high school at 235 pounds, but my coached nicknamed me "260."

Turns out, he was on to something. By the time I got married 15 years ago, 260 pounds was as good as it got. And it probably won't ever get that good again. But like another coach often says: It is what it is.

So don't go pussyfooting around calling me "husky," "heavy" or "overweight."

I've been too fat for too long, plain and simple.

Unfortunately, the rest of America seems to be catching up to me. You'd be amazed how many people I run into who are "on the mask" -- that is, using an airflow machine (called a CPAP) with a full facial mask to help correct weight-induced sleep apnea. This is roughly equivalent to strapping a small jet engine to your head right before you try to doze off during Jay Leno.

My doc told me I set a record during the diagnostic sleep study. They cranked the setting on the machine all the way up -- and I was still only getting the kind of oxygen levels in my blood that you'd experience, say, on the way up Mount Everest.

When you're constantly fighting (and losing) the war on fat, you look for sources of inspiration. Jared the Subway pitchman; the Herald's weight loss miracle man, Tiger Stockbridge; the guy who was big as a house and, therefore, couldn't leave his house ... until he dropped, like, 400 pounds or something -- they all get my respect and admiration.

But Gary Marino is stepping to the front of that line. He dropped 150 pounds after topping out at 397, and then walked 1,200 miles three years ago from Florida to Boston on what was probably the first-ever such endeavor to raise awareness about the obesity ... uh, FAT epidemic.

Marino shares his journey in the film Million Calorie March, which premieres September 18 at the Boston Film Festival. As it happens, I was the fattest guy at the advance screening, so I kind of felt like the guest of honor.

"It's got to be the most documented weight problem in history," said Marino in a recent interview. His 2004 book, Big & Tall Chronicles: Misadventures of a Lifelong Food Addict, inspired the film. "I feel like I've taken a big negative in my life and turned it into a big positive," he said. "It's my identity. I can see no other reason to go through this if you can't get something positive out of it, [because] I can never get my 20s back. I can never get my 30s back."

Marino and I first met back in the spring when we had lunch in Watertown, near the post-production shop where he and director Jimmy Jay Freiden spent months editing Million Calorie March.

Some advice if you are dining with Gary: Bring a snack.

There was a time he would put away hot wings by the bucket and have plenty of room left over for dessert. Chinese food. Subs. Pizza. Donuts. You know the drill. Now it's all about the salad and low-fat entrées.

He walks relentlessly and he's become a gym rat -- good behaviors ingrained with the help of a weight loss "dream team" that Marino first assembled for himself seven years ago. That's actually how the initial transformation took place -- in the two years prior to Marino launching his 1,200-mile trek. But the four-month march from April to July of 2004 really cemented his new role in life.

The film will, in part, support a foundation Marino established to promote obesity awareness and healthy living among youths and adults alike. He's done work with health plans in Pennsylvania and schools up and down the East Coast. A weight loss radio show is in development.

Spend enough time in the media business, and you become a natural skeptic. And with regard to losing weight, I've learned to be most skeptical of myself. Over the past 10 years or so, I dropped 60 pounds at one point on the fen-phen drug combo; 40 pounds on Weight Watchers in 2005; and assorted 15-to-20-pound seasonal dips.

I've traveled the neighborhood Marino came from when he tipped the scales at 397 -- and it's not any kind of fun. You also learn, or at least I have, not to get too excited when you lose 10 or 20 pounds, because at this kind of weight, you can throw those numbers around like nickels and dimes. Over the past 10 weeks, I've taken off more than 30 pounds by keeping track of everything I eat and exercising modestly (walking, golf, chasing my 5-year-old, etc.).

I'm encouraged, but I'm not kidding myself. It's nice seeing the pounds fall off -- but it's still an incredible fucking pain in the ass to stay on top of it. I imagine that means I am not yet anywhere near the epiphany that Marino reached long ago -- the point where you tell yourself, "I will never let this happen again."

"It started like any other diet, and the first year I did it, I didn't lose a lot of weight at first," Marino said. "But as time passed, I began to realize I was not backing off."

As for Marino's movie: I was educated, entertained and -- quite frankly -- scared the bejesus out of by the film's dramatized sleep apnea driving scene. It is some of the most harrowing shit I've seen in a long time -- a realistic portrayal of what a zombie someone is behind the wheel of a car when they're never actually able to fall asleep at night.

I got away with not doing anything worse than gently rear-ending an MBTA bus early one morning, before I finally signed up for the mask. Ever the source of inspiration, however, Marino has me believing that I may not always require heavy machinery to get a good night's sleep. In December 2002, after dropping substantial weight, his apnea subsided completely.

I can only hope.

Either way, if you ever see me out on the road, you have my permission to yell: "Wake the fuck up!" Just to be safe.

Marino's long-time friends Brian Baldwin and Russ Surette provide a large helping of levity and humor (as well as logistical support) in their road manager roles for the Million Calorie March. Howard Rankin, a diet psychologist, offers a credible perspective throughout. Marino's wife, Julie, is darling and genuine. And co-executive producer Todd Patkin made sure the film would happen -- even after it became evident that an early goal of making the walk a fundraiser was doomed to failure.

Marino has also struggled to maintain his weight loss success. The film doesn't close on a clean, triumphant note. It documents his modest relapse and a slip into depression after returning to Boston at about 240 pounds.

"Your ambition does wax and wane. I gained back 25 pounds and feel like a flunky," he said. "There is definitely a built-in alarm that goes off, and you start to freak out. When I got back up to 255, the alarms started going off. Then the next thing you know, you're at 260. But no matter what your weight is, the ultimate goal is health. I'm 265 now, but a healthy 265."

Worth noting: Marino, his foundation and the Million Calorie March have had much more success generating attention and forging partnerships outside his home state of Massachusetts. He created the "Million Calorie Meltdown" for Blue Cross in Pennsylvania -- a program that met with huge success. But health plans and hospitals, so far, will barely return his calls up here.

If Marino can help inspire a renewed effort at weight loss from a chronic chubbo like me, they ought to start giving him a look. But I suppose it's up to the film itself to make that case.

[Million Calorie March is set to premiere at the Boston Film Festival, which runs from Friday, 9.14.07, to Friday, 9.21.07. For more info, visit bostonfilmfestival.org or millioncaloriemarch.com]