Monday, May 19, 2014

Motivation: Just another word in the dictionary


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.

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