I was walking Lucy earlier this week when a kind, young gentlemen enjoying a morning cigarette on his front porch shouted at me.
“Hey! You’re that girl I see running around here all the time. You look fine the way you are. You don’t need to lose weight.”
I hollered a thank you and went on my way.
For whatever reason, that statement has bothered the shit out of me all week.
While I truly appreciated the compliment, what I really wanted to say was, “Lose weight my ass. (HA!) I’m doing this because I want to feel good about my body.”
Honestly. If the only thing I was hoping to accomplish was losing weight, I can think of about 80,000 other things I’d rather do with an end goal of weight loss: Zumba, spinning, yoga, aerobics, Body Pump, an elliptical machine for God’s sake… not stalking the weather websites and apps to plan out my week of running, not spending $120 and three months time trying to find the perfect pair of running shoes, not panicking about whether or not I’ll get my run in on a busy day, not analyzing every single twinge of pain in my body, not going into meltdown mode when something unexpected comes between me and my planned run.
Let’s be honest, if I was doing this to lose weight, I’d run only when it’s 50 degrees and cloudy with a slight breeze and zero humidity.
I’m not doing this because I need to lose weight.
Well, not entirely… I mean, the 23 pounds I’ve lost and the muscle I’ve gained over the past six months have been awesome, but I run for so many other reasons.
I run because five years ago, I couldn’t.
I run because I once saw a man with a prosthetic leg cross the finish line of a marathon-length endurance hike.
I run because someday I want to be in the backyard running around with my kids.
Will run for beer.
I run because I love how it feels when I’m covered in sweat and the skies open up.
I run because honestly, I love wine, beer, and giant soft pretzels.
I run because it lets me sort out all of the crap running through my mind.
I run because I love myself enough to take care of myself.
I run because I love the feeling of competing against myself.
I run because it makes me forget about the flappy upper arms, lumpy thighs, and loose skin that 25 years of bad decisions have left me with.
I run because it makes me feel fucking awesome.
It’s just a bonus that I happen to lose weight in the meantime.