I just can’t think of a Britney Spears lyric or song that sums up what happened to me today.
I was really excited to do my 3rd day of training today. I got up, felt well rested, and I was genuinely excited to do this today. I got dressed, drove to the track, and started on my workout.
During the 5 minute warm-up, I felt good. It is a nice day, not too hot. I’m cool.
The first run comes up, and off I go. I am about 30 seconds into it when I need to pass up some guys who are strolling and taking up the whole track. They finally let me pass through and I hear the guy call me a “chunky girl”.
Assholes. They were fat men. I’d rather be chunky than straight up fat like they were.
But I kept going, and finally it was time to walk. I walked and I was really hurting. Usually I am not hurting this much until the 6th+ run, and I had just finished run #1. I had 8 more to go! There’s 9 runs, not 8 like I previously said.
And run #2 is upon me, and it starts raining. But I am still cool, I am alright. I know that rainshowers here are brief. I also thanked myself for not bothering to straighten my hair, because that would have been a waste of time.
Then I walk. Slowly. Oh-so-very-slowly. I am in a serious amount of pain. Run #3 is about to start and I don’t start running. Instead I fiddle with my iPhone to pause my workout. I pause it, and I walk off the track to try to do some stretches, and I walk.
Finally, I try giving run #3 my best shot, and I make it through. And I walk again.
Then I start crying. Run #4 comes up, and I just decide to not continue since I am already back at the starting point and by my car.
Once I get in my car, I just start sobbing. I don’t know why. Part of it is that I was/am in a terrible amount of pain. I can’t even bend over or squat down without having Daniel just pick up whatever it is I need. Another part is that yesterday I ate too much, and when I weighed myself this morning I was up 0.6. It’s devastating to be the fat girl all the time. Some people can say they’ve been skinny and then gained weight; I cannot say that. I’ve never, ever been at a healthy weight. And I’m always the fat friend/3rd wheel that you keep around to complete the circle of friends.
And today I truly feel like I am doomed to be this way. I know I obviously got myself to this point. I know I was, in fact, 20 lbs. lighter than I am now just 7 short months ago. I know today I have been married exactly 7 months, and that my poor husband endures more than any guy probably should ever have to of my craziness. My issues with my weight really effect every single part of my life. It keeps me from wanting to see friends, keeps me from wanting to go out, keeps me from wanting to go to work since my pants are too tight and I refuse to go up a size- again, and it keeps me from being confident and happy. Yet, when I try to do something about it, I feel like I never succeed in the long run. I may have 1 great week on Weight Watchers or Turbo Jam, and then I just stop. Give up. I don’t know why. I think it’s because I am unhappy here. Lonely, even. I just have Daniel and Pee Wee. No friends, no social life. Which might explain the insane amount of hours I am on the computer- it’s like you all are my friends.
This post has gotten really heavy, I do apologize for that, but I know that many people do e-mail after these posts saying they can totally relate and so I just keep putting it out there. I even got one e-mail asking if I like weighed 400 pounds or something since I make myself out to be a whale. No, I do not weigh 400 pounds- my weight actually does begin with a 1, but your e-mail did make me giggle.
I don’t know if I gave up today, but I know I couldn’t finish. I know working out is difficult (especially this whole running thing), and it’s definitely mind over matter, but bottom line- I am in pain. Like literally. I don’t know if I am still really sore and need to chill out a bit or if I screwed something up, but I just couldn’t do day 3 today. My week 2 starts on Saturday which gives me tomorrow and Friday to get my head back in the game.
And I want to end this post with a tribute to 2 people who mean the world to me. Tomorrow is the 3rd anniversary of my granny’s passing, and on Friday will be 9 years that my daddy has been gone. Yes, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day- you read that right- the holidays are rough for me. I love you both dearly.
And one of the very few pictures I have with my dad- this is my fave: