I ran 2.25 miles last night, which is more than I've ever ran without stopping, and I'm more than pleased. In the start of my run, though, a familiar feeling came over me: sometimes when I run, I feel like I could keep going and do a whole marathon. Usually the feeling only lasts about a mile, and then reality sets in. My legs start to get a little tired, and I finish up whatever distance I have left feeling grateful that I can run at all. It's not my body that thinks I can run a marathon right now - it's my mind.
My body and my mind tend to travel at different speeds, and the role of the faster one alternates between the two. On nights like last night, when I am pushing myself to my physical limits, my mind feels like it can go forever. I am so much more capable than I was only a few months ago, and I want to go out and maximize every day. The problem, though, is that despite losing over seventy pounds, I'm still very obese. There are still physical limits. Yes, I can test them and push them and sometimes I can do things that surprise me. But no matter how much I want to do almost anything and everything, I'm still somewhat limited by my size.
At the times when my body gets ahead of my mind, it is largely internal. Despite the fact that I used to weigh 345 pounds, and despite the fact that as of my last weigh-in I was in the 270s, I'm still a twenty-four year old girl, and there are things that both my body and my mind desire. My body feels amazing and full of energy and wants to go out on dates and have the normal twenty-something experience, but my mind keeps putting the brakes on. In my mind, I can always justify not going out and trying to obtain the life that I want - which is obvious, I think, since I ended up twenty-three years old and 345 pounds. But I feel so weighed down by the idea that even though my seventy-four pound weight loss is great personally, it still isn't enough for everyone else. Someone meeting me now would have no idea how much progress I've made, he'd only see what I currently have to offer.
Which I guess begs the question, At what point will it be enough? And then I wonder if it will ever be. That's something I need to figure out myself, I suppose. My mind and my body need to meet up and travel together at the speed of life. Even the thinnest people, people who have never had to consider losing three-fifths of their body weight, have things they don't like about themselves. I know that a huge part of my journey is working on my self-confidence, and I need to put in a conscious effort now during the journey so that when I get to where I want to be, I am prepared. There is no switch that will automatically flip once the scale reads a number I am satisfied with. Lately, it's been power surges, followed by brownouts.
For some reason, a lot of my recent self-confidence issues stem from dating and relationships. My past experience has always been that settling for less than perfect and putting up with a lot of poor treatment because I was lonely and being mistreated was better than being alone. More than anything, I want someone in my life, someone here with me to share in this journey - a boyfriend, a workout partner, a culinary guinea pig, and a co-adventurer. But my mind interjects and starts arguing. I worry about the things I will have to explain to someone who isn't aware of where I've been, like loose skin. And why would I get someone involved now when everything about me is changing?
These things might not matter to the right guy. But for now, in my mind, these are dealbreakers. I don't like feeling vulnerable, and in my non-blog life, I have a very difficult time letting people in. I hurt myself enough in the past, I need to recover from my self-inflicted wounds before I let down my guard and retreat, fully exposed, from behind my shield.
I do have some savvy with dating and things like that, and so for the rest of this week, I am going to do a series of blog posts talking about my history with the three guys who have (like it or not) shaped a good deal of my ideas about and experiences with relationships and the like. I collectively refer to them as "the pains in my S," as their names are Sam, Scott, and Steve. It's just not my lucky letter, I guess. For me, these are very heavy, impactful tales, and even though I am currently feeling very good and positive about my journey, I feel like I need to express them now so I can try and ease some of the burden of my emotional weight.