Weight has been a struggle since childhood. At 15, I stood at 5 feet 9 inches and weighed over 280 pounds. Despite careful eating, I continue to struggle with losing weight.
At 16, my father grounded me for being 20 minutes late getting home on a Saturday night. He was a strict father who frequently beat his children and mother for minor offenses. Though he has mellowed, we still don’t speak. It’s hard to believe almost 20 years have passed without much communication.
Grounded, I rebelled by walking 6 miles to town each morning in the summer, hanging with friends, and returning while my parents worked. My friends offered rides, but I refused to risk being seen by other farmers. Grounding meant losing friends.
I lost weight quickly, turning my walk into a jog. By the end of my 6-week grounding, I’d lost 25 pounds. I recall my father’s face when he gave me the car keys, and I ran away. From then on, I ran and biked, using my feet and legs whenever needed. There were limits: anything over 10 miles meant I couldn’t shower, so I drove. As a cook at a Country Kitchen restaurant, I ran to work, just under 5 miles each way.
Within a year, I lost 115 pounds, dropping from 280 pounds to 165 pounds. I started running races, never training much, just for fun. I never won a race, but I took third a few times. Then I tried a marathon and didn’t finish. I began training, reading books, planning, and putting in a great deal of effort. I finished my first marathon and then read even more, planned more, trained harder, and ran over an hour faster in the same marathon two years later.
Running and biking became chores, only for training. I lost interest in using them for enjoyment. That was 1994. I had struggled and weighed 210 pounds, standing 5 feet 11 inches tall.
Back in 2005, I was in terrible shape, weighing a whopping 296 pounds. However, my life took a turn, and I began walking and running. It wasn’t just about saving money or getting in shape; it was a way for me to clear my head and address some personal issues. I never considered it a serious fitness goal. I just wanted to lose weight and feel better.
I managed to drop to 212 pounds and even started participating in a few races. Over the years, I had only done Grandma’s each year, barely training to keep the streak alive. However, in 2006, I decided to take things up a notch and run the 50-milers. That’s when I started “training” seriously. My runs weren’t just about getting some fresh air or commuting to save money anymore. They became rigid, planning training runs that included long runs, speed workouts, and all that jazz.
At first, everything was going well. I was feeling energized and motivated. But as time went on, I started to hurt more and more. I was experiencing aches and pains everywhere, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to complete my training runs. And guess what? I was actually gaining weight! Now, here I am, 10 pounds heavier than I was in June. I haven’t run or worked out much since my knee surgery. The doctor said there’s actually more to the issue than he thought, and my knee won’t be ready for another 6 weeks. So, I’m stuck at least until September 8th before I see him again. I’m trying to eat healthier and hold off the weight gain, but it’s not easy. I’ve been eating out of stress, and that’s not a good habit.
Looking back, I realize that while I was training harder mentally, it was actually wearing me down and stressing me out. I was eating out of stress, and that’s not a healthy way to deal with things. I’m determined to change my ways and get back on track. I’m going to start eating healthier and exercising regularly. I know it won’t be easy, but I’m ready to give it my all. I’ve come too far to give up now.
So what does this mean? I said this before, but I quit. I will not structure training anymore. If I feel like walking, swimming, or biking, I will. And if a race gets thrown in the middle, so be it.
A big thing I did in those years was to know my food addiction when stressed. Whenever I wanted Ice Cream or cookies, I would first go for a one-mile walk. Then, if I still wanted it, I did. However, the one-mile walk usually eliminated the stress that was causing the desire for food. I would take my camera, stop and talk to friends, or call a long-lost friend and just talk while I walked. Again, the walk takes care of other things, not as a training run for a race.
I’m happier without the stress that exercise should relieve. I use my legs to save money, reduce stress-related food cravings, or enjoy the scenery. I trained for a race that got me in great shape and made me enjoy exercise, but it failed me in the past. I think it’s a no-brainer that I need to give up training and let the races, times, and finishes fall where they may. I’ll be a volunteer much more than a racer, at least for now. I’ll plan my racing efforts daily. If I don’t run that day, the entry fee will be a donation to the race. There will be no plans, no schedule, and no stress. Looking back, that will make me healthier, happier, and wiser.
Happy trails! Carry on my friends!
