I wasn’t the fastest runner out there tonight. And I certainly wasn’t the runner who ran the furthest. I wasn’t the fittest runner either, obviously. Actually, I could literally feel my bum jiggle as I ran (go me!). I also probably took the most walk breaks of anyone who laced up tonight, cursed the most, and prayed to the good Lord at least six times to please (please!) make a light go red just so I could stop. About ten runners passed me tonight, and I had moments where I just wanted to go home and sit on the couch. I felt judged by people in cars, and pedestrians as I passed them. Judged by them assuming that the fat girl was running because she wanted to lose weight. I know. That’s probably not the case, but it’s always been something I’ve hated about running/CrossFit/going to the gym overweight. People can so blatantly see my vice. My weakness. My Achilles heel… A smoker, a hoarder, an addict, walk past you on the street, and nobody knows their secret. But my secret? The one where I am obsessed with food. The one where I over eat. That one is on display for the world to see. At all times. It’s this awful catch 22 of wanting to lose weight, but not wanting to really be seen trying to lose weight. Perhaps this doesn’t make sense. I don’t know. I’m sort of just rambling. It’s just that I think, well, I know, how terrifying it is to leave the house as an overweight person, and go for a run/jog. I know the evil thoughts that creep in. The self obsession. The embarrassment. The assumptions. The everything that goes a long with it. And I know it’s not easy. And I thought I would share these thoughts, for absolutely no particular reason, other than I can. And to tell you that when I got home and checked my running app, there, staring back at me, was “5.1km in 38 minutes.” And there I stood, on the sidewalk in front of my apartment building, absolutely flabbergasted. I figured the run had taken me an hour. I figured I hadn’t gone that far. I figured I was the slowest person out there. I figured that I sucked at running. And then suddenly, as I put my key in my door, I wondered what my time would have been had I supported and encouraged myself along the way. What would my time have been had I not bashed myself every hop, skip, and jump of the run. And as I shut my door behind me, I wondered what could I accomplish if I was my own, biggest fan.