So. For the fourth of July, Mr. BD, Mr. BD's brother-in-law, and I ran the Peachtree Road Race. It's Atlanta's premiere 10K, and one the largest races in the world. Just to give you a picture of the size and popularity, 100,000 people registered, 60,000 were accepted, and 55,000 ran it on race day. It is a huge event! I had not trained much past February for it, so I was terrified of finishing very last, or worse, not finishing it at all.
To put your mind at ease, I finished the big race in an hour, 34 minutes, and some odd seconds. I'm proud of myself. I gave myself a goal of finishing under an hour and 45. All of that being said, this is a huge turn around from the person I was several years ago. Several years ago I was training 3 or 4 days a week. I was running 5Ks in under 28 minutes. I had several running partners and I loved running. Some days. Some days I was miserable. Not because I was always injured. Not physically anyway. I was so competitive. With myself. With my friends. Nothing ever seemed good enough and I never felt like I could see an improvement in my time, my composition, anything. I used to dread lacing up my shoes when a partner would ask me to run the track. I was proud at the end of each race if I beat my partner or if I shaved off some seconds, if I could put some thinner girl's butt in the road. If I couldn't, I would beat myself up. I would make excuses or I would be embarrassed to tell other people what the results were. Even worse, I thought running was the only way I could be thin, and thin was the only way I could be.
It has been several years since I have been able to run the way I did, but that is not to say I haven't struggled time and again to get myself back there. I will start running with the intention of gradually losing 20 pounds and convincing people that I am just as athletic as I thought I was then. After a few weeks, I'll catch myself mentally abusing myself for each time I run and it isn't the way I want it, or each time I skip a run and I allow myself to spend another day fat.
After the Peachtree I told myself, no more. No more shame for not finishing in less time, or before Mr. BD, or before this girl I'm foolishly jealous of. No more abusing myself for slacking off or for not meeting my own ridiculously high standards. No longer will I place running on a pedestal all its own to be the magic trick for ending obesity. I allowed myself to finally believe that I was not defeated by running or that if I couldn't run, I would always be unhealthy. Health is not synonymous with thin, and running is not the only exercise out there.
Now. Pictures!
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| Mr. BD and I picking up our race numbers! I wore this pic in my previous post, but it is great to travel in! |
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| Race morning! Excuse the naked face, loves. |
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| They hang the flag from a crane at the start of the race. |
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| Look at all the people! I'm too short to get a good view. |
