I’m a chubby girl who has grand plans to become an American Ninja warrior. I will leap tall buildings in a single bound and walk away from free donuts. I will run a 10 minute mile, so help me god, I’m determined it will happen.
But for now, I ugly run. And by run I mean, jog. By ugly, I mean I jiggle and wiggle in places I didn’t know could. I jog in intervals; 1 minute of walking with 30 seconds of jogging and I repeat that until I have come to 45 minutes.
Right now I am doing a whopping 18 minute mile!!!
I’m not belittling myself. But I am acknowledging, it needs to improve. There was a time where I would beat myself down for doing so poorly. It is amazing how miserable I like to make myself. If I wasn’t running at a 12 minute mile level, well, I might as well not eat for the next couple days and train extra hard. Cause, you know, that is what I deserve. Time to “suck it up” and “pull myself up by my bootstraps”.
This mindset inevitably led me to injury, and burn out. I also HATED THE JOURNEY. It sounds a little corny, those workout motivational quotes. Sometimes they make me want to claw my eyes out and pull out my nose hairs I get so annoyed. But the one that says “It’s the journey, not the destination” or some cornball antic like that. It’s gets me in the feels.
Back when I was pushing myself too hard and hating my body, consumed by my meal prep, worried about what everyone thought about me, and determined to be some kind of super woman…I HATED that quote. Because I was already pushing so hard, I felt the destination should have already been upon me.
Sad thing is, even if I had “made it” to whatever my goal weight was, I would have still been unhappy and disappointed in myself, because that is what I had conditioned myself to believe was true about me.
Today, when I look back at those progress photos I took of myself, it makes me want to weep. I WAS IN AMAZING SHAPE! Seriously, I needed a slap. It’s so sad to think of how much I disrespected myself.
Now, much MUCH heavier then I was then, 3 years ago. I am reattempting to run.
I’m reentering the world of training, and watching what I eat. But I am enjoying it. I want to be more conscious of my weight as it comes off, and the feeling I get in my brain as those chemicals change. I want to be a part of the journey, and less intensely consumed by the destination. Because the destination will happen no matter what, if I do the the journey with respect for myself.
This morning, when I got off the track that I ran indoors, I was SO FUCKING PROUD. I did it! I kept my heart rate at 160 beats per minute (give or take 10 beats) for 45 minutes, and I felt great!
I could hear my thighs clapping as I ran, but I just appreciated the applause.
My boobs felt damn close to tearing off my chest and slapping my in the face, but I didn’t quit, I let those babies bounce and I didn’t care who saw.
I sucked wind, and I made it happen.
I even passed a couple people. They looked to be about in their 70s. EAT IT YA OLD BUZZARDS! Hey, take the win amiright?
Anyways that’s my thoughts for today.
Day 1 of the Chubb Wars.