Why I run

Every once in a while I become re-motivated to work out and get skinny. Every single time I fail.

This time though? This time.

Let me tell you about when I first became a runner...

Flashback: It was Fall 2008. I was a young and very dumb 19 year-old girl who had recently been unceremoniously dumped by a boyfriend. In hindsight, he may or may not have realized that he was, in fact, my boyfriend... but hindsight also reveals that he played dumb much of the time, which I do not appreciate on behalf of my very inexperienced 19 year-old self.

I was DEVASTATED. Not because the Happily Ever After I had dreamed up did not come true; that was a minor thing. My devastation stemmed from a festering wound of humiliation. Why had I invested so much emotionally into a dead relationship? Why had I gone through so much expense and trouble? (<--I had paid a hefty amount to travel by air to visit him in a far away land) (Utah). Why was I so clueless?! I was stupidly embarrassed to have been so blind to his lack of long-term interest.

So I moped around for about a month, unsure of how to rid myself of the funk that had descended so darkly over my life.

Then something happened. I received a birthday card in the mail from that particular ex-boyfriend with a check enclosed to reimburse me for half of my plane ticket. (If you ask me, he should have reimbursed the whole amount as penance for leading me on so dreadfully, but that's a lecture for another time.) Seeing the check made me immediately start crying. But they were different tears. I was....pleased? Not necessarily happy, but grateful that he had considered that loss on my part. I was working part time at a grocery store, and plane tickets aren't exactly cheap.

After musing about the check for a few days, wondering how to shift my attitude from embarrassment to ANYTHING else, I began to consider why I felt the way I did. The short answer: I was so concerned about how his actions had made me doubt my worth that I had lost sight of the fact that his opinion of me was completely irrelevant. I needed to remember that I knew my worth, and that it was not based on the opinion of any person alive outside of my Savior and I. The gears started turning in my head and before I knew it I told myself that I was going to train for a half-marathon, and I was going to register and run a race to prove to MYSELF that I could. I wanted to be proud of me.

These thoughts happened within the span of about 5 minutes, and, literally, from that moment on, I was not sad anymore.

So I printed off a training schedule, and with 12 weeks to spare, started a 10 week course. My sister, Anne-Marie, was registered to run a half at the end of those weeks, so I called her up and invited myself along.

Every time I ran, woke early, stayed up late, showered fast, went without make-up, ran further than I thought possible, or nursed shin splints and sore ankles, I was motivated by that drive to prove myself TO myself. It didn't hurt that I was losing weight at the same time.

Boom. Success. I rocked that half-marathon, and thought I was a runner for life.

Wrong.

Though I did run a couple more H-Ms and several 5Ks, they just weren't the same. I didn't train as well and didn't perform as well. And I eventually stopped running altogether. I attempted to restart SEVERAL times, but was not ever permanently successful.

Flashback over. Back to the present.

I am not happy with the current shape of my body AT ALL. I love my body. I love that it grows and nourishes babies with an ease that I can't help but be grateful for. I love that my babies love it and that my husband still loves me in spite of my attitude about it.

I love my body enough to achieve the health and shape that I've always wanted.

All the times I've ever started running again since I stopped were missing a key motivational factor: I'm running for me. I'm running to prove that I can. I'm running to achieve the body I want. I'm running because I want my children to have a healthy mother. I'm running because I want to prove to myself that having babies shouldn't be a free pass to excess fluffiness. I'm running because I want my husband to be proud of my personal pursuits. I'm running because I want my husband to be proud to stand next to a wife who is proud of her accomplishments. I'm running because I know that I can achieve ALL of my goals.

You know how with a lot of things in life you just know? These first two runs I've been on since having my son have felt that way. I feel that same degree of intense motivation I felt when I had my heart broken, (but without all the sadness), and it makes it easier to meet this challenge head-on.

I sometimes look through old Facebook pictures so that I can see how skinny I was and be depressed. This evening I got lost in the past and came up motivated. I can look like this again!

I used to be able to curl my legs up and fit in small spaces.

I didn't know I looked like that.

I can't climb swing sets anymore, but I will soon! ;) 

Right after my first half-marathon.

Look at that skinny bride-to-be!

I had just returned from a 6 mile run. No biggie.

I always dress really cute when I run...not.

Though this post seems to have an overall depressing tone, it isn't meant that way! I am so excited to start running again, and am looking forward to all the positive that goes with it!