Well, today was my last day of running before my 10K this weekend. I meant to run 3 miles Thursday, but I was so busted up and sore from Wednesday night’s Krav Maga session that I pushed it to today. I still felt slow and sore, but hopefully I’ll be back on track by Sunday for the Lost Dutchman 10K.
I didn’t really want to make this a running post, though. I wanted to talk about food and weight. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve lost about 15 lbs. in the past two months–something I credit to a mostly meat-free diet, no drinking alcohol, and lots of running and exercise. This is a big achievement for me, but if I’ve lost this much weight and I’m somewhat pleased with how I look (and the fact that I’m writing this while wearing jeans that haven’t fit me in at least two years), why am I becoming so fixated on losing more? My weight stayed exactly the same for a little over a week, and it enraged me. I’m annoyed that I still have a gut, I’m counting calories, I keep telling myself that maybe when I lose five or ten more pounds I’ll reward myself with X, Y, or Z, and I probably felt crappy on my run this morning because I skipped working out yesterday and then didn’t allow myself to eat enough as a consequence.
It’s ironic that in a society where over a third of us are obese, the pressure to be thin remains intense. As a single woman in my 30s, I definitely get it. I’ve had the same brains and personality my whole life; that doesn’t determine the level of attention I get from men. When I was 140-150 lbs. (at 5’7″), I got dates. When I was 188, not so much. Of the three guys in my life who I’ve dated long-term, two of them criticized my weight at some point in the relationship… and I dated those guys when I was at least a size smaller than I am now. I hate to be telling myself that the reason I’m single is because I’m a bit heavy, and I know intuitively it isn’t true, but once someone puts that thought in your head it sure stays with you.
Men are only part of the problem, though. Arizona is also a tough place to be a larger girl. I say large-r because I’m wearing a size 8/10 now, and I’m still bigger than a lot of the women I encounter on a daily basis. I can’t tell what’s in the water here, but there’s an epidemic of 20-something girls who are under 5’5″ and about a size zero. This is especially true on the college campus I work on, and being exposed to that every day is feeding my complex. I don’t want to be an average-sized, 30-something woman. I want a do-over of the years of my 20s that I wasted on a bad relationship, an unsatisfying job, and a place I hated living in. I can’t change the past, so I’m trying to change my appearance. There it is: A noble goal, but for all the wrong reasons.
I’m so glad this weekend is going to be a race weekend. I need to get out of town, and I consider a 6.2 mile race to be a license to forget about my body snarking and eat a big bowl of pasta, for goodness sake.