Icy

Hal Higdon's Novice 1 Marathon Training Schedule: Week 1, Day 3

Days to Chevron Houston Marathon: 122

Planned activity: 3 mile run

Completed 3.02 in 35:04

Time and Temp: 5:00am 73 degrees


I'm typing while my foot rests on an ice bag.  It doesn't hurt because I finished my run.  It only hurts when I've been still for any prolonged period of time.  It feels pretty good when I move.  The problem is that I can't be in perpetual motion and I know that as I bump up the miles it's likely to get worse.  I have an appointment to see the fabulous Dr. William M. Jones next week.  It's the soonest I can get in.  In the meantime, I'm going to keep my mileage relatively low and my surfaces flat.  I'll ice and take rest days.

This is as good as I can do people.  My name is Michelle and I am an addict.

On another front but I think (also) needing ice as a response:

Let your imagination tackle this B.S. situation:

Suppose a person entered a lunchroom full of people and was greeted with this:

"Michelle, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure?  What do you need?"

"Could you please eat a sandwich?  You're wasting away!"

W. T. F.

I've worked so hard to lose the pounds I put on when I was out of commission exercise-wise.  I've struggled with my food issues.  I've SWEATED and I've cried.  I've faced my demons.  What if a person had to deal with this shit at work?  From a higher-up?  Sure, maybe it got a laugh but maybe that laugh was gained at the cost of the inner embarrassment of someone who has dealt with food issues her entire adult life.  Sure maybe the butt of the joke might need thicker skin but isn't work supposed to be a safe place?

Isn't it enough to be a stranger (Democrat) in a strange (Republican) land?  Divorced in the land of the married?  Now to be called out for this? For being healthy and thin?  Let's just call a spade a spade.  "You're different.  You're not like us.  We're going to make you feel like an outcast no matter how we have to do it."  That's how it feels. 

I'm a size 10-12.  I'm not rail-thin.  I'm not super-skinny.  I was FAT before I took charge of my out of control self.

My response?  Just a look.   My best friend's proposed response?  Not printable.  I love him but if I followed his advice I wouldn't have the funds to pay entry fees for races nor would we be able to finance our mutual travel addiction.  Some things are best met with icy stares.

Anyway...That's my rant of the day.






©Michelle Scofield, September 12, 2012 All Rights Reserved