Run fattie, run

Things have been going pretty well lately…I’m finally able to see a tangible difference in the way that clothes look and fit on me, and my confidence has been pumped up.  People are starting to notice that I’m losing weight and it makes me skip around all day whenever someone asks me what I am doing.  Last Sunday, Rob and I decided to walk/run to his parents house, which is a little under three miles away.  So we loaded the stroller with our supplies, (gallon of water, a towel for sweat, drinks and snacks for Logan, and our cell phones and wallets) called his parents to warn them, and took off.  Almost exactly 45 minutes later we arrived at their house, red, sweaty, and smiling from ear to ear.  We felt so good and acomplished…plus the 45 minutes of undisturbed communication was refreshing! 

This past week was very busy…I worked Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Saturday, while Rob had to work and attend mandatory training for a new restaurant which made our schedules overlap a couple of times.  To help fill in the gaps, we borrowed my father-in-law’s car this past weekend, which I returned tonight.  My plan was to drive the car to their house, then do intervals of running and walking during the three miles to get home.  When I called Rob’s parents to let them know I was coming, his mother said that she had dinner ready.  I was anxious to get running as soon as possible so I would make it home before it got dark, and I wasn’t too thrilled to be delayed by her dinner plans.  Anyone with a mother in law would tell you it is not wise to turn down dinner when it is offered to you, so for the sake of peace, I stayed.  Not to imply that my mother in law is a bad cook…quite the opposite.  From the seven years that I have known her, she has always been a very health conscience cook.  She spends hours every week sitting on her back porch studying health articles, highlighter in hand to underline the important material.  Rob says she has been like this for as long as he can remember.  She was on a low carb diet years before Atkins became a household name.  She has been using Stevia for years as a sweetner when it had to be special ordered from a vitamin store.  She regularly slips fibercil into everything she makes, and refuses to tell what ingredients are in a dish when asked.  Rob and I would always joke with each other that every time we came down to visit, we pooped three times more than usual.  So I knew that I wasn’t going to be tempted to eat badly…I just didn’t want to spend the time when I needed to be moving and sweating!  (Of course, hind sight is 20/20…I was happy that I didn’t have to come home and cook.)  For dinner we had chicken vegetable soup, a small side salad, a “pizza” (1/2 of a whole wheat english muffin toasted with tomato sauce and topped with veggie cheese) and a chocolate fudge cake which was surprizingly tasty for consisting mostly of black beans and tofu.  I started on my way home about 30 minutes later than I wanted, and pushed myself to make up time.

We live off of a very public street that is frequently traveled.  There are many stores, strip malls, and restaurants, plus many people take the road to get the the interstate, which is only a 1/4 mile from our house.  So there I was, moving my big old tush at a startling pace and sweating like crazy.  I would run for as long as I could, then walk for a couple of minutes to recover, run, then walk.  I was feeling great and motivated until, you guessed it, two stupid teenage boys in a  beat up 1992 Honda honked the horn as they drove by and yelled out “Run, Fattie!! Run!!!” 

Unfortunately, this is not the first time that I have been screamed at while doing outdoor activities…for some reason it seems to be a rite of passage for teenage boys to harass people they pass on the street.  Last time it happened to me, I was so upset that I refused to exercise outside at all.  I spent all my time going through my pilates and old Tony Little DVD’s, but I got bored and stopped.  (BTW, whatever happened to Tony Little?)  After the taunts today, my first reaction was to stop running and go somewhere to hide.  I slowed down, started to feel bad for myself, and made the decision to never run on the road again.  Then my skinny voice came out of hiding and set the right perspective for me.  Really, who were they to yell anything at me?  Why did I care what two boys barely out of puberty thought about me?  Why would I let them make the decisions for me on what I could and couldn’t do?  It’s not like they were pointing out a fact that I had no idea about…I know that I’m a fattie…why the crap to you think I am running like an idiot on the side of the road? 

 I have no animosity to the extra weight, because I know that most of the pounds I gained were happy pounds.  Aside from the 10 or 20 pounds I gained in the two weeks when Logan was in the NICU, or the 10 pounds I gained while our business was going downhill, I enjoyed every single one of them.  I was in love and dating my husband, meeting late at night after work to split a huge brownie sundae at the Everready Diner.  We were celebrating buying a new house by having wings at Carlos and Charlies or spending hours cooking together cream cheese stuffed crepes.  I was happy and in love, I have great friends and we all liked to eat together.  I’m not ignorant of the fact that my butt shakes a little too much when I run, but this is another part of my life that I am enjoying immensely.  And unlike those young and naive teenagers, I know that someones appearance doesn’t always reflect their personality.  Those are lessons you learn as you grow up and experience life.  I’m enjoying this part of my life right now, and no pimple faced kids are going to change my mind.

Progress report so far:  shrunk almost 7 inches  in two weeks and I just broke into the 230’s.  Cloud nine 🙂


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