So with all the talk of surgiversary and gastric bypass not being the magic bullet, yesterday was one of those *moments* for me. One of those moments I completely felt like I never lost a pound and found myself so self-conscious that it kept me from taking action.
I try to be positive, but I don't always win. It occurred to me I probably don't mention the times I crash and burn as often as the times I crash, burn and get back on the plane. There's lots of crashing and burning around here.
Tuesdays are always a struggle to get to track. Cassie's dance class is Tuesday, but Tuesday is the day everyone goes to track. It's not like we workout together, but we're all there at the same time. Darren said he'd relieve me of waiting duties at Dance so I could get to track. Both coaches were going to be there and sent me a text, so I felt like I should make an effort to be there.
OC says, I'll run better track if people are round... I say, you don't know ME. It's all I can do muster up the confidence to go to the track on a regular Tuesday night. All the *real* runners are there, then there's me, hoofing it around the track and breathing like a Budweiser Clydesdale pulling a carriage o' beer through 3 feet of snow! I'm not swift and light on my feet, nor can I hold a discussion about what happened earlier that day at while waiting to be seated for lunch. I'm too busy killing myself, trying to drag my sorry a$$ around the track and not to walk any part of a 1 mile repeat... or you might find me pulling my shorts down trying to minimize the chub-rub! In short, I stick out like a sore thumb. There is nothing inconspicuous about me running track.
I like to be inconspicuous, but it's a challenge at 215 lbs. I love to work hard, but I can't when I am self-conscious. That's the reason I work better alone at track. Okay, my TB is allowed to be there (just in case he reads this... he gets all sensitive on me LOL).
So, you might imagine my surprise when I pulled up to the track and saw my coach leading everyone in warm-ups like the Pied Piper. They were kicking, hopping, skipping and jumping up and down the straight away, back and forth. They were doing all those high-end warm-ups you only see those super-fast Jamaican runners do.
Let's just say you'll never see me do them no matter how good they might be for me, because frankly I feel completely uncomfortable in my skin doing it. Okay, maybe not NEVER. One day I do hope to resolve this inner conflict.
Anyway, I got out of the car to take a closer look to confirm what I saw (Thank goodness it was dark). After my suspicions were confirmed, I turned right around and got back into my car. I sat there for 10 minutes trying to convince myself to go join them, but I couldn't. Instead, I just left.
My head won. Ugh.
All that talk about working to be right in the head from yesterday? Apparently it went in and out of my brain faster than picking up a burger at a drive through. Of course I got home and felt even shittier about my choice to bail. It's not about not wanting to work hard, because I dare anyone to say I don't give 100% -- its about being self-conscious.
In spite of all I've done I still see myself as a 347 lb. woman woman from time-to-time, or worse a kid again...
The girl who has no business trying to run track to get fast. She's the one who should be content walking a 5K.
or... The one told, "You can't play on the soccer, basketball or field hockey team unless you lose 20 lbs." Then has to quit, because she gained, instead of lost.
or.. The girl who heard, "you can't take that lead role in the school musical unless you lose weight." Guess what happened? She had to quit, because...
or... I the one who was told, "It doesn't matter how good you are at something; you're still overweight and that's what people see."
That's the shit I have to work on deprogramming. Some days I win. Some days I lose. But it takes being present right at that moment, to make the right choice. Last night I was 16 years old again.
Today is another day.