I have grabbed the throttle handle firmly and started now to apply pressure to slow the engine that is bounding full throttle to a dreadful derailing. 312.8 pounds of unhealthy fat just rolling down the wrong track gaining momentum as is hurls itself to disaster, each marked crossing flashing with red warning lights. Blinding, red hot , the first light was joint pain, nagging pain that took away some mobility. Next was the blinking red lights of the second crossing, sleepless nights, always tired. I saw more flashing bright red lights on the third crossing, when the blood pressure started climbing with the weight. Now the red lighted crossings were passing like picket fence posts, just a long ribbon of red leading to the promised end of derailment. My knuckles had grown white and my palms sweaty as I began to tighten my grip on the brake handle, it was hard to hold and I felt weak as I moved it ever so slightly in the right direction. My mind races with questions, “Can I Do this?”, “Is it too late?”, “Will I fail again?”, “So much weight, I can never do it!” I did not let go as hard as it is to hang on I was and am willing to keep pulling that break in the right direction to save my life.