Met My First Running Goal

8 07 2013

Early 2007, I graduated high school. I carried a 3.87 GPA, had won more speech and debate awards than I could count, earned the prestige of being the “Best German Student” in my class and absolutely hated myself. I weighed 260 pounds, had a 26 minute mile and for my freshman and sophomore years, was easily the most hated person in my P.E. class. See, I had this instructor who made us a simple deal at the beginning of the year: if everyone in the class could run a sub-12 minute mile, we wouldn’t have to run the mile in her class ever again. However, if anyone was still running, everyone had to run. Ergo, I listened to, “Come on, it’s not that hard.” “Just do it.” “If only you’d . . . .” “Nope. Keep running. We’re still waiting on her.” every week for two years. I never did manage a sub-12 minute mile in high school and I hated every minute of P.E. Come to think of it, I hated every minute of organized exercise up until about 4 months ago. I’ve fallen into the “running addiction,” somehow, and I not only like running, I look forward to it every day. 

Today, I did something I quite honestly believed I was incapable of doing. I did something more than 30 people I went to school with thought I would never do. I have finally, 9 years after my last P.E. class, met my P.E. Instructor’s challenge. I have successfully ran a sub-12 minute mile (10:54!!!!!). Not only that, I maintained the pace for an additional 2.5 miles. 

I am, quite simply, proud of myself. Take that, negative voices from my past. I’ve lost over 100 pounds, systematically built both strength and speed, and have finally bested a mental demon concerning my utter inability to complete a simple 4 laps around a track.

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I’ve Started Running

1 07 2013

I started running in February of this year, but underwent surgery in February and fell victim to a “metabolic crisis” in March. It’s thought that I have a potential mitochondrial disease, for several reasons I won’t get into here. Regardless, it laid me out for almost two months, during which I lost all the progress I’d gained in February.

Starting over, I was 195 pounds, unable to walk further than about 2 miles and hating myself more than ever. Now, on July 1st, I’m 182 pounds, can maintain a 13″ a mile pace for 4-5 miles and have been sucked into an entirely different set of numbers. When I was in treatment, one of the doctors said to me, “The rules of an eating disorder are generally pretty simple. Regarding food, it’s always less, never more, and regarding exercise, it’s always more, never less.”

I’ve never understood that until now. I’ve never had an “exercise problem,” and I’ve always LOATHED running in any form. I’ve never understood the drive to continue moving, and honestly, it feels about like the very first time I purged: I wish I’d never discovered it.

I’m trying to remain healthy, trying to maintain my intake, but most days of the week, I end up with a net calorie intake of 250-500. A few times, I’ve even had a negative balance, and that felt better than anything.

I just want to be able to wear my favorite pair of jeans, enjoy it when someone touches me instead of the immediate firestorm that hits my brain (“DON’T TOUCH ME; I’M DISGUSTING!!!!!”), and be able to venture out in public without feeling every eye on me and my massiveness.

I know, logically, I’m not even really all that “huge,” but I feel as if . . . . . I occupy far too much space and that it’s just utterly foul. I can’t stand seeing myself, being touched, or having someone look at me. I’m really working to avoid falling off the restriction cliff, but it’s hard.








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