Running Story
Saturday, Oct. 23, 2004 at 2:46 PM


I wrote a drunken entry last Sunday, put it into my private folder the next day so no one would see it and then took it back out again just now. I'd been depressed last week and I guess it all culminated in one wine-filled night of crying and feeling sorry for myself. At first I didn't want to admit that I'd been, as I put it, "sobbing on the couch" but now that I feel better there's no reason to hide it.

I went to the gym on Thursday evening and it felt fantastic! Now that I'm going back I can admit what happened after two months of not going: I hate how my body looks right now. It's not that I hate my body, it's that I hate the fact that it's in the shape it is. So, I've decided to whip it into a shape that I can be happy with.

Here's the rundown. When I was in High School I weighed around 115. I've always been built small and I had a fantastic metabolism. I'd get full easily and would never fluctuate more than a few pounds in either direction. By the time I was 21, 22, I'd gone up to 125. I thought it was kind of fun because I had gotten a more womanly shape. My breasts grew, my curves started to blend instead of hips jutting out of a narrow frame which was my adolescent look. I even gained some flab around my stomach but took it all in stride because I'd always wondered what it would be like to be curvier all over.

Then in the last two years, and this past year in particular, all hell broke loose. At least that's the way it felt to me. Really it was just the last vestiges of my teenage metabolism letting go and me being left with a body that reflected what I was eating, which was crap. I went up to 135 and started growing out of all my clothing. In addition to the leather pants I bought when I was 19 and tiny, now I have scores of pants that don't fit right. My shirts have started pulling at the buttons and even though this is the most cleavage I've ever had, my stomach bulges out of all of my pants. I went to the gym on Thursday and weighed myself. I'm at my highest, 137. I'm sure that doesn't sound like a lot to some people reading this diary but my goal weight is 125 and I've weighed 108 in the past. It wasn't healthy and I was a lot younger then (18), but I still have that number to compare with the current one. It was this experience that lead to my decision to only weigh myself once a week! I don't need daily updates.

I'm going to the gym three times a week from now on. I ran a mile-and-a-half, my top distance even after two months of not going, at what was close to my top speed, 4.2 MPH. I did all of my top amounts of weight and all my top number of reps on my weight lifting and didn't even feel that sore the next day. I definitely felt it, but I was worried I wouldn't be able to raise my arms above my head and that didn't happen.

When I was running, a strange and fantastic thing happened. I'd just started, after a bunch of delays. I had dropped my stuff off in the locker room, took off my sweatpants and sweatshirt, gone upstairs and started my warm-up when I realized that I felt completely self-conscious in the shorts I was wearing. So rather than be nervous for my entire run I stopped the machine, went downstairs and changed back into my sweatpants. I went upstairs and started power-walking and realized that the machine I'd picked was making a clacking sound every time I took a step, so I moved to a second machine and entered my height and weight before noticing that the readout was a style I don't like. So, I went to a third machine. I realized at some point in my life that sometimes it's better to be self-indulgent about my neuroses because that will make me happier in the long run.

I did my warm-up and started jogging, watching CNN on mute with no closed captioning, and a song from my pissed-off adolescence came on over the PA, Hey Man, Nice Shot by Filter. I listened to the song, saw Bush giving a speech on the screen in front of me, and I got pissed. I'm still not sure what it was that I was pissed off at but it was motivating. I had been running at 4.1 and turned up my machine a notch because it wasn't fast enough. I jogged the full mile-and-a-half, with a short walk after the first mile, and it felt fantastic. Sweat was pouring down my face and I was flushed, which always happens when I run, and I just wanted to keep going forever.

I wish I hadn't already showered today (me and Kelly had been planning to audition as extras for the movie The Island before we realized that neither of us actually wanted to go), but I can't wait to get into the gym. I'm sitting here in my bathrobe and slippers, trying to hydrate myself somewhat and letting my bagel digest. I felt great after that jog and I can't wait until I've been going for a few weeks and can feel the results. I want to be lean and mean and I never want to see 137 on a scale ever again.


I'm listening to the PJ Harvey song "My Beautiful Leah" and Lizzie West's album Holy Road
I'm reading Men, Women, and Chainsaws: Gender in the Modern Horror Film by Carol J. Clover
I want to go to the gym today. No, really. I do.

Previous:
- - Thursday, Oct. 27, 2005
back yet again - Thursday, Aug. 04, 2005
Batman - Friday, Jun. 17, 2005
Just fucking around today - Sunday, May. 22, 2005
pre-birthday - Saturday, Apr. 30, 2005