There’s a lotta activity going on around here at the water
front, more than normal. Nike is
sponsoring a half marathon and for the last week there have been workers
everywhere constructing ginormous tents in preparation. Signs for registrations have popped up
literally overnight and the normal Georgetown foot traffic has significantly
increased, and the darn thing hasn’t even started. All this puts me into a grumpy state of mind. I mean when every place you go to pick up a
‘quick’ lunch turns into a half hour wait in line behind spandex clad chicks
who insist upon consuming nothing grass while I’m eyeing the cheese burger…well
can you blame me for being a bit put off?
And let’s talk about the plethora of spandex. Today as I went outside to pick up some
coffee with two of my male colleagues, I had to do an internal sigh. Since these particular two consider me ‘one
of the guys’ they also feel totally free to make comments about said uber fit
women. And oh lord do they make
comments. For most of my life I’ve been
considered one of the guys. I’m not sure
what it is I do that elevates me in the eyes of my male counterparts enough to
consider me as one of them however I’m not complaining. It’s actually quite pleasant. I’ve had a few female friends tell me that
they would hate that but I guess the fact is that because I don’t hate it, is
what makes me most appropriate for the position, right?
So yea, we were outside the three of us practically hanging
over the balcony looking/gawking/ogling at the hubbub below. I believe as of today, the participants will
come to register so there are a mix of security, workers, volunteers and runners. And there is a varied array of spandex on an
array of body types. They guys I were
with? They were in heaven while I stood
there thinking to myself, this crap should be banned. I wasn’t hatin’ on my friends for taking in
the bounty before them, heck no. But I
kept thinking to myself that if I dared even contemplate putting on the
obnoxiously tight lycra material, I would likely be issued an indecency ticket
by a cop that had just gone blind. No
really, I’m not trying to be a size-ist but if you got multiple rolls in all
the wrong places that cause slight tremors on the ground when you so much as
walk, how about you wear the lycra but then possibly slip into something else
also, like a t-shirt?
But for the most part these thin fit nearly (but not all)
anorexic ladies with the killer bodies made me start to think about my lack
thereof. And of course I got all
depressed. I slouched back upstairs
sipping my peppermint mocha, uncaring about the caloric intake because heck, I
had already purchased the darn thing and my mother has always told me not to
waste.
Since you folks are all dear to me, I’ll tell you a secret
(particular for those who have no idea what I look like or who I am): I am not thin. No indeed-y.
As a child I could have easily been categorized as anorexic but as soon
as puberty and the age of 10 hit, whammo hello curves, and not good curves. I went from thin to portly quite quickly and
nothing, I mean absolutely NOTHING fit me.
Most companies didn’t make size for ‘baby whales’. Anyhow my mother, as mothers are want to do, had
convinced herself that it was just the fat of youth, otherwise known as ‘baby
fat’ but alas it was not. And as youth
gave into the phase of teenager and as all my other friends slimmed down and
grew breastests, I pretty much stayed the same.
Awesome.
Oh, not to say that I never got to a good point weight wise. I was (and am to some extent) the human
equivalent of a yo-yo. My weight fluctuates
up and down, endlessly. I didn’t
understand this either since I have never had a big appetite, never (and this
applies to this day) been a snack-er and
although I love me some chocolate, after one bite I’m okay. As for soda?
You know those small cans? I take
two days to finish one which means I never do since after the first day it goes
flat. I hate flat soda.
Then one day, after
having had enough of the mystery as to why I was so ‘pleasantly plump’ I went
to see a doctor and was told I have PCOS.
What is that you wonder? Well
check it out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Polycystic_ovary_syndrome. Well now this explained a lot of things that
I didn’t get and my doc said that my ignorance wasn’t surprising. Most women do not know they even have this
thing because the diagnosis isn’t easy to make.
Now I realize folks, this is a very intimate personal detail to share on
such a public forum but I’m not ashamed.
Particularly because there are far too many folks around this universe
who look at someone overweight and think to themselves, stop putting that fried
chicken in your mouth and maybe you’ll lose some weight. For those of you who do this, you’re nothing
but ignorant. The fact is overeating
isn’t always the cause behind obesity, just sayin’.
Anyhow, so a few years back I decided that I had to lose
some weight but of course my journey would be tougher than most. Luckily I didn’t start off with a ‘woe is me’
attitude, more of a ‘I can defeat this’ one.
I accepted that for the most part I would have to work twice as hard to
lose even 1/10th of the weight that others did, this was a biological fact. And it was hard, taking nearly a year but I
did it. 60lbs down and I felt
fantastic. I was even able to maintain
it for approximately 3 years. It wasn’t
that hard.
Then life happened.
Not only did it happen, it slapped me upside the head, stomped me down
and blended me into a big ball of goo…and inevitably I regained the
weight. Not all of it. A good 20 lbs but still it’s there and I
won’t lie, I haven’t been motivated enough to lose it again. Motivation, I’ve realized, is a funny
word. It isn’t a formula, it isn’t a set
thing. You don’t find it in a box or up
a tree. You find it deep within
yourself. I’ve had people ask me why I
haven’t gone back to it, why I haven’t joined the anorexic huffers and puffers
of the world and my response is typical:
tired, too much work, no time, blah blah blah. The brutal truth, if not embarrassing as
well, is that I have zero motivation.
I see my friends losing the pounds, slinking off to the gym
or wherever to sweat to their individual play lists and I think ‘good for you’
but my own feet protest the path taken by so many others. A few weeks ago I ordered the Shaun T Hip Hop
Abs video but have I opened the cover?
Yes, to look and see what’s inside and since then? It’s been on the dressing table awaiting.
Oh motivation, where art thou?
Post-Run:
It’s been a few weeks since the run. My eyes are tired of spying the spandex
parade. But here’s one thing I admire
most of about these women: there is absolutely
no shame in their game and there is no one type of person who takes part
either. Tall, short, stick or plump,
they’re all out there and I have to just give them props. Go them.
