Tuesday, May 14, 2013


I hate it.  Running, that is.  And frankly, most other things that would constitute exercise.  I like to dance, and walk, and play with my nieces and nephews - but generally not tag, because it includes the aforementioned running.

I will not bore you with tales of being bad at sports and picked last in PE class.  What I will say is that this fostered such a deep sense of shame within me that any physical activity in front of another human being became completely humiliating.  All I've ever thought is that if I ever have to run for a ball, everyone will stare at me and think about how slow and stupid and fat and pathetic I am.  The thought of it has reduced me to tears on more than one occasion.  I think it might be how some people feel when they're asked to do public speaking...but I can't be sure.

I am slow.  I'm a little chunky/jiggly.  My joints ache like an 15-year-old arthritic dog and I do not look cute.  But I started running because I wanted better for myself.  I wanted to stop believing that I was incapable, no matter how embarrassing it was.  And of course, in the most obvious revelation ever, I realized that no one is thinking about how slow and stupid and fat and pathetic I am except myself.  Duh.

This is us right before our fourth Sun Run - I'm getting cocky now.  And with every (painful) step I'm reminded that you can change who you think you are and what you think you can do.  While my body might be filled with all sorts of problems, it can run.  I can run.  And it's a disservice to myself and my abilities and my creator to insult them by saying what I can do is not good enough.

And in case you're doubting the 'not cute' bit, I grabbed a still of a movie that Steven took at kilometre 9...so...you're welcome.

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