I moved to a new place in May of this year, in Hampden (hon). When I moved I was feeling pretty good, felt optimistic about how my life was going, and where I was headed. I'd completed two half-marathons, improving my time by FOUR minutes on my second one. I was getting my masters, moving out of my parents' house.. life was good!
I decided to, although it scared me a little, explore my new 'hood by running in the early morning. My first neighborhood run ended with the crazy neighbor woman shouting at me "run faster!" and calling me fat. I couldn't completely understand her, but a male voice came from the front door, onto the porch where the woman was standing, and said "she's not that fat." Gee.. thanks?
It occurred to me last week, as I was over-analyzing this particular event, that those comments may have been a catalyst in my decision to stop running over the summer. How idiotic is that? With as much as I'd accomplished, as much as I'd been through, I let the comments of a crazy neighbor stop me from moving forward? Furthermore, my second neighborhood run featured a middle-aged man at the bus stop telling me "go on girl, do yo' thang!" And yet the hurtful words are the ones that stuck with me. (I love that man, by the way, and would like to put him in my pocket and take him with me wherever I go, for words of encouragement)
Words are powerful. Even when you think you're beyond letting what someone says get to you (I'm rubber you're glue), words can get under your skin and fester there.
So, this blog is called 90lb and counting.. and I'm now at 70lb and counting. About 4 or 5 months after I started the blog, I was up to over 100lb of weight loss. Circumstances, and my own head and subsequent habits, have reversed my progress.. I am determined to start losing again. I am determined that my "fat pants" (yes, it's a horrible term, but one I use, especially when shaming myself for taking steps backward) will once again threaten to fall to my ankles without a belt. When I move, I feel good. When I ache from a strength session at the gym, I mentally pat myself on the back. When I complete a race or a long run on the trail, I feel exhilarated, alive, whole, and dammit, even proud of myself. I want those feelings again. I want them all the time.
I've become unpleasant again and cranky, and for that, I apologize. It's not you, it's me. I don't like myself that much right now, and I feel that I'm going through another identity crisis. It's frustrating not knowing who you are, and not much liking the parts you do know. I'm currently in my 34th year, and I feel that I've failed in most aspects of my life. I have no real career (despite my most recent attempt), may never be able to buy a house, have not been in a relationship in over 5 years, and most likely will never have children. The one area that I was succeeding in- being healthy, and getting fit- I now feel a failure as well.
I do have plans. I'm modifying my diet, exercising more, and I signed up for 3 half marathons next year to get myself back into shape. I also have some ideas on how to get myself into a profession I can enjoy and be proud of, but I prefer not to disclose the details at this point, since I'm nervous that it, too, will fall through.
I guess the point here is that I'm human. Actually, I'm a (more than average) sensitive human, but I have a lot of drive. We all have setbacks, moments when we feel like failures. All we can do is forge ahead and do better. I truly believe that we are capable of 10 times what we think we are. And that is why, despite harsh words burrowing and festering, I am pushing forward again. Maybe I am fat, but at least I'm getting out there.
