Today, for the first time in over 4 years, I tried running outside.
I used to run when I was frustrated or bored or needed to think, and it kept me a svelte size 6. I had two kids and managed to mostly regain my pre-baby shape, then depression hit after a big move and I started to look for happiness in food because I felt like I couldn't go anywhere without my kids and I had no friends nearby to talk to or lean on. I got over the depression, but I was up to a size 10 and my self esteem had taken a little hit. Then my hubby and I decided we should continue having kids. We had 1, then 20 months later another, then 12 months later a third. We were up to 5 kids and my body was not doing to well and I am now an uncomfortable size 16. I weigh 186 lbs and I am 5' 6-1/2" tall. I am more than 40lbs overweight.
I watched the documentary Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead. I wanted to do a juice fast, but I have impulse control problems, and as an adult with ADD, I forget to stick to things when they get boring or too difficult. Then I feel crappy and quit and enter a spiraling dive into depression and self destruction. So to help me my type A hubby (whom I love dearly) has been planning and enforcing for me a juice diet during breakfast and lunch and a 'sensible' dinner, with mandated times for exercise.
I have missed running so much, I used to feel so free when I ran. Today I felt fat, dumpy, uncoordinated, and extensive pain in my joints. Granted, I was wearing supposed running shoes that cost me $10 and had absolutely no shock absorption or arch support. Every step I took I could feel the fat under my stretched skin bouncing up and down in syncopation with itself and the rhythm of my stride. I could swear my hips were trying to see if they could bounce up high enough to touch the jiggling back fat bulging out under my sports bra, but kept getting slapped down by the belly bulge. To make matters worse my underwear and workout pants had decided my butt crack was the perfect place to hide from the fat assault going on in and around them. Every ten steps I felt like I had to pry yards of fabric out, only to have it dive back for cover the next step I took.
All of this took place in the first 5 minutes of my run, until I ran out of steam and had to walk or risk dying from cramps, heart attack or simply strangulation from the traveling set of underwear. I walked until I could breathe again, then ran until the fat on one leg slapped into the back of my opposite knee, nearly tripping me. So then I either walked or jogged for a whole 35 minutes until I reached home.
As I came inside, I had to make dinner, stop my kids from killing each other, stop myself from killing them, clean the spilled food and see a surprisingly bad report card from our most academically gifted child, and then supervise the homework of 2 lazy kids. It had me so stressed that I ate a bag of m&ms that were supposed to be potty training awards for the 2 year old. Hopefully my run/walk/jog will neutralize the calories I just took in.
What amazes me the most though, is that I can't wait to go buy a new pair of shoes and some kind of mp3 player so my fat has something to dance to the next time I go out for a run. And I think I may invest in some fashion tape to ensure my panties can never again escape the war zone known as my buns on a run.
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