I cannot say that I love running.
I think some part of me must, but the whole rest of fatgirl is in rebellion.
At 28.25 miles today. Just one little 5K to go!
I’m going to kill it tomorrow!
Then I’m going to start over.
Thanks for the pep 5k a Day! I’m off to find myself a margarita.
Update:
21 Miles as of Thursday.
Everything hurts. Knee is pretty uncomfortable… tried to sabotage today’s run but I prevailed!
My bingo wings chafed my side boob for an amazingly painful and humiliating side-effect during today’s run. A newfound respect for and awareness of spontaneous combustion has developed. I am considering relocating one of the fire extinguishers so that it is within reach of my treadmill.
ATTENTION:
Fatgirl, who exercises somewhat regularly, is attempting to run approx. 30 miles this week.
DYK? Fatgirls don’t make good runners? No kidding, it’s true! Now don’t go getting all offended by the Fatgirl term. I could say curvy, voluptuous, bootylicious, the dreaded ‘plus size’ BLECH!, or a number of other things about my figure, Fatgirl is simply the most motivating for the current project. Back to the running… I used to run a bit when I was young and thin (in my early 20’s) and never really put much effort in and never really got very good at it though I was in great shape. I was simply not built for it. I started again when I hit 30 and got much better at it with much less to work with strength and youth-wise and much more to work with flab and booze-wise. I ran for a few years off and on, doing a few 5K races (as I said I was never very good at running) and pretty happy with myself for doing it. Then I had another baby and zzzzzzzzz…… well you know how that goes.
Now on the downward slope toward middle-life crisis (or smack in the middle of it) I am out of shape, and REALLY not built for it.
FYI: Running is HARD.
I see those little cuties running around the world, doing marathons and smiling and looking cool and I want to smack them. Sure, I might smile and wave and wink and blog while running too if I weighed 118 lbs. My joints wouldn’t ache, my flab wouldn’t jiggle me off the side of my treadmill, my boobs wouldn’t require two + sportsbras in a size too small to keep them contained, my yoga outfit turned runners gear wouldn’t be soaked with sweaty fatgirl sauce, and my hair and make-up would remain perfectly in place so that the finish-line photos didn’t look like some longer haired slightly feminized version of Nick Nolte’s mug-shot (to be fair, my outfits are much cooler).
Sure. If I weighed some 60 lbs less. But I don’t. I rock a fluctuating 180 – 188 (it’s not uncommon for my weight to change 5 lbs in a day) and most of the time I think I look pretty great, but there are those days. When I say pretty great, I don’t mean great in the same category as pre-kid, pre-stress, pre-heartbreak, pre-chaos great. Not like those years in my 20’s kinda hot, (boy, if only I could convince that girl to keep running) but still hot enough for me. I may never get to a point where I am a good runner, but that isn’t going to stop me from hurtling my tired, heavy, old, sweaty, achy, flabby body through space at whatever break-neck speed I can pull off. Wish me luck!
As of yesterday she is at 13.69 miles.
Current Status:
Sleep – 4-6 hours
Left ankle – swollen and sore
Right knee – pinches when bent and straight and walking and running
Lower back – Tight
Mid back – Tight
Upper back – Tight
Shoulders – Tight
Neck – Tight
Hips – Sore
Stomach – Still flabby
Boobs – Still too big
Morale – Stable
Love is the ability and willingness to allow those that you care for to be what they choose for themselves without any insistence that they satisfy you. – Wayne Dyer
This is a stunning concept which I wholeheartedly believe would change the face of all our relationships were we to embrace it and commit to it. Sadly, our uncontrollable desire to see our own needs satisfied and our inability to conceptualize in everyday life thwarts us. Perhaps a bit more effort… or just a bit more Cabernet?
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