I had planned to write a post about my recent return to running, but something else is weighing heavily on me.
In April, I was in the best shape of my life. I felt great. I was (mostly) happy with my appearance and size. I wanted to tone up a bit, but other than that, I was pretty confident for the first time in my life.
Cue the IT band injury. Cue knee surgery. I got lazy. I made excuses. I ate my feelings because I didn't know how to deal with them when I couldn't run. I smiled. I played dumb. I turned my head when I walked past a mirror. I hid the scale. My clothes were a little snug, so no big deal.
Yesterday, I was wearing a fitted tee under a sweater, and I noticed the shirt would ride up a bit over my stomach. "Weird. That's never happened before." I knew I had a photo of myself in this shirt from the summer of 2013. "I'll take a photo and do a comparison. How bad could it really be?"
Bad. Bad enough for me to pull out the tape measure and tally the inches. The numbers were jaw dropping. Plus two in my hips, plus two in my chest.......plus five in my waist.
I crashed full force into the proverbial bottom. My heart tore open. Pain. Sadness. Disappointment. What have I done to myself this year? How did I let this happen? Despite all of the emotions I felt, I avoided the negative self talk. The f word never came from my mouth. I didn't tell myself I was a failure or a waste.
I have a plan of action. I'm back to running. The scale is still hidden even though I'd love to pull it out. I'm only worried about the inches. Eight months to do this and probably more than that to take it back off. I'm down, but I'm not out. I can, and I will.