One man's 150kg journey toward health
It's one thing to pull your own weight. To carry around another one-and-a-half of you is a burden.
"Anyone who's like that experiences things like cars driving by yelling stuff and throwing things at you," says Rich Churcher, eyes averting. Some of his "drive-bys" have even gone round the block to do it again.
Rich was about to turn 40 when he realised things had to change. He had to stand across two bathroom scales for his GP to record his 250kg bulk. His weight affected his work; depression made him live life as a hermit.
How does a man shed 150kg and come out of that cave?
Rich turned 41 in June but doesn't look it - his eyes light up with a child's enthusiasm and his short black hair has only a few flecks of grey. He's wearing a much-loved and faded Outward Bound T-shirt he earned last year.
"It feels like armour," he says with a wide grin.
That shirt covers the only visible remnants of his former heft. His 185cm frame looks in proportion apart from a flat saggy tyre wrapped around his midsection.
"My skin is deformed. The skin of my abdomen is badly stretched and fills up with fluid. It does limit you."
He makes two cups of tea with measured movements - arthritis in his joints is a painful reminder of obesity.
At 250kg, Rich still managed to work as a paediatric intensive care nurse at Starship Children's Hospital, but his charge nurse manager Nicola Gini says he found it hard to believe people could value him for who he was.
"People made assumptions on his ability to perform his job."
In February 2011, struggling to walk from work to his one-bedroom apartment in Auckland's CBD, Rich stopped. He'd had enough. Work wasn't going well; his father had died of lung cancer in 2010; and a 40th birthday loomed the next year.
"I was really pissed off. It was probably a good idea to sort things out physically, but I've always been quite wishy-washy.
"F*** it, let's commit."
Rich's problems began growing up in Wellington. Teased at school, he sought comfort in food and was overweight by the age of seven. His mother cooked solid meat-and-three-vege meals but he treated his burgeoning depression with the "endorphin kick" from sugar.
His favourites were the 10 cent and 20c lolly mixtures from the local dairy.
Of the family of four boys, two sons became morbidly obese while the others inherited their mother's skinny genes. Rich calls them the "normal" ones. The shy teenager was "well and truly obese" at high school.
Socially he was a disaster and his depression worsened. He studied nursing in Otago.
After gaining the degree that eventually led to his job at Starship, he found people there were surprised he could work - though there was a lot of time spent sitting down.
"It was a vicious cycle. Like deadlifting 200kg every time you stand up. I would try not to drop things on the ground."
A self-described "recluse" in his Auckland apartment, Rich "could not speak to another human being [outside of work] for weeks at a time". Online delivery services for groceries and takeaways were blessings.
"Anyone who's like that experiences things like cars driving by yelling stuff and throwing things at you," says Rich Churcher, eyes averting. Some of his "drive-bys" have even gone round the block to do it again.
Rich was about to turn 40 when he realised things had to change. He had to stand across two bathroom scales for his GP to record his 250kg bulk. His weight affected his work; depression made him live life as a hermit.
How does a man shed 150kg and come out of that cave?
Rich turned 41 in June but doesn't look it - his eyes light up with a child's enthusiasm and his short black hair has only a few flecks of grey. He's wearing a much-loved and faded Outward Bound T-shirt he earned last year.
"It feels like armour," he says with a wide grin.
That shirt covers the only visible remnants of his former heft. His 185cm frame looks in proportion apart from a flat saggy tyre wrapped around his midsection.
"My skin is deformed. The skin of my abdomen is badly stretched and fills up with fluid. It does limit you."
He makes two cups of tea with measured movements - arthritis in his joints is a painful reminder of obesity.
At 250kg, Rich still managed to work as a paediatric intensive care nurse at Starship Children's Hospital, but his charge nurse manager Nicola Gini says he found it hard to believe people could value him for who he was.
"People made assumptions on his ability to perform his job."
In February 2011, struggling to walk from work to his one-bedroom apartment in Auckland's CBD, Rich stopped. He'd had enough. Work wasn't going well; his father had died of lung cancer in 2010; and a 40th birthday loomed the next year.
"I was really pissed off. It was probably a good idea to sort things out physically, but I've always been quite wishy-washy.
"F*** it, let's commit."
Rich's problems began growing up in Wellington. Teased at school, he sought comfort in food and was overweight by the age of seven. His mother cooked solid meat-and-three-vege meals but he treated his burgeoning depression with the "endorphin kick" from sugar.
His favourites were the 10 cent and 20c lolly mixtures from the local dairy.
Of the family of four boys, two sons became morbidly obese while the others inherited their mother's skinny genes. Rich calls them the "normal" ones. The shy teenager was "well and truly obese" at high school.
Socially he was a disaster and his depression worsened. He studied nursing in Otago.
After gaining the degree that eventually led to his job at Starship, he found people there were surprised he could work - though there was a lot of time spent sitting down.
"It was a vicious cycle. Like deadlifting 200kg every time you stand up. I would try not to drop things on the ground."
A self-described "recluse" in his Auckland apartment, Rich "could not speak to another human being [outside of work] for weeks at a time". Online delivery services for groceries and takeaways were blessings.
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