Tripping the light fantastic

Ok, I have to admit that I have no idea what that means, but I heard it somewhere once and thought it sounded cool (My title that is).

I have never, and I mean NEVER understood people who jog/run by choice. To my mind you would have to be insane to run a mile unless there was a hungry bear after you.

Granted back in Jr. High I was one of the faster girls in my gym class to finish the requisite 7/8's of a mile and I loved that. I loved that I was good at something (Because I don't feel that way very often, especially back then). But once gym class was over, running was right back at the top of my list of avoidable tortures.

However... A couple of months ago, I decided I am done with this fat business. My weight has always been something that I have joked about, or pointedly avoided mentioning, because I had the insane belief that if I didn't mention it, no one would actually realize that I was fat. Yes, I know, that is highly illogical but it fit in with my own personal delusions.

My weight issues began after high school, when my parents moved to a different town. I was suddenly there, with no friends and I got very depressed. I found a new friend, her name was food and she was wonderful, I could tell her anything and she would make me feel better. We spent a LOT of time together.

Then I met B, and we got married, and couldn't have babies and all of the sudden, I needed my friend again, because nothing was making the hurt go away. The time spent with my "Best friend" added to the medications I was taking in order to conceive were a lethal combination. Suddenly the weight I gained doubled without effort.

Then I did have babies, sick ones, scary ones that left me feeling helpless and inadequate. Food was my comfort. There was no where to store a packed lunch at the hospital, but there was a Burger King in the basement, and any choice of fast food places on the way home. I gained even more weight.

Then I had another baby, quite by surprise actually, and I was trapped at home with three infants and no car. I was bored and tired, and food was always right there waiting for me.

Then I lost my daughter, and food was all I could think about. Because when I am feeling bad, it's the only thing that helps. Food fills my belly and my soul.

All this has led me to the unhappy place I am right now. And I am tired of it.

I started walking around my neighborhood...then it got cold and B bought me a treadmill. It sat and gathered dust because it was boring and a package of cookies and medical shows on Discovery Health were much more fun.

But I have dusted that baby off, and I am not just walking but actually jogging at intervals, and while it's kicking my butt, I am finally getting it. I finally understand why people jog. Despite the fact that I am cussing every time the couter reaches the number where I have to start running again, I feel INCREDIBLE when I get off. I feel powerful, I can take on the world!!!! (Just as soon as my legs stop feeling like jelly!)

I'm not saying I will ever run a marathon (it would be cool though wouldn't it?) but I am trying harder to do better. Trying to ask myself if I am hungry or feeling sad when I head for the pantry.

My entire life I have believed that I would die at a young age. It has occurred to me recently that if I don't change things, I will self fulfill that prophecy. I am eating myself into an early grave.

There are two kinds of joggers, the light gazelle tripping along gracefully on her toes, or the elephant who's only desire is to stay upright while not letting anyone actually see her working out. I am definitely the later, but I feel my inner gazelle fighting to emerge. On top of that, my legs (and most of the rest of me) are skinnier and that ROCKS!

I am not naive enough to believe that I will ever be skinny again, but a little less of me would be great.