Fat Girl Running #1: Starting Somewhere

In Which We Have Words About Words And 

                                       I Come Out as a Hardcore Beginner

Today was day 8 of my “running” program (I keep using the quotes, even when I'm talking on the phone, I can hear them in my voice, because to call what I'm doing “running” is something of a stretch. I'm definitely going faster than walking. Sorta... a little).

Obviously, I'm fighting the urge to qualify it, to minimize. I'm a beginning jogger. Not beginning in the mental sense, because I've done this before, but it’s been awhile and since I got sick with Lyme disease, not at all. So I know the head space, I have the information, but physically I'm a beginner again- I ain't got much stamina. So I'm taking it very, very, veeeeery easy- starting slow and working up gently.

Hence the qualifications: "I've started a, you know...kinda sorta running program". But I'm tired of downplaying it. An edge is an edge is an edge. I'm pushing my edges physically and that's challenging, whether you're going from not running at all to running at .01399 miles per hour for half a mile, or  working up from 10 miles a day to 15. So I deserve some credit, even if I'm currently moving at the pace of a diseased, aged, 3 legged mole rat for only a few minutes at a time. From where I've been standing (sitting, laying, collapsing), that’s a lot! It’s relative. I'm gonna quit not taking myself seriously. I'm a hardcore beginner. Hear me roar.

I'm calling the posts on running “Fat Girl Running”.  I know people get offended at the word “fat” and that’s why I'm using it-  it’s just a word and I'm tired of all the bad press it’s gotten. Poor "fat"- layoff it already! It’s three little letters put together in a certain way and I don't mind saying “I'm fat”. I mind if I say it meanly. I mind if you say it meanly, but I don't mind it as a descriptive word any more than I mind: curvacious, chubby, plump, round, bodacious, lush... (lush is fun. I like "lush"). It’s time to reclaim “fat" as the benign descriptive word it is. We've all got it. We cannot, in fact, live without it. It's just fat. Relax already.

And “girl”- well, if we haven't yet had this discussion, there isn't a pronoun for what I feel like I am. So mostly, I make do with “girl” or “woman" because that’s what people see when they see D cups. I'm pretty much okay with that since there isn't a preferable alternative. And finally, overall I think “Fat Girl" has more punchy irreverence than “Fat Human”. Girls have definitely, in my opinion, gotten a helluva lot more heat for being fat than boys have, though I know fat boys haven't had an easy time of it either.

I'm sometimes a little self-conscious about being a fat girl running. I imagine people watching me jiggle down the road  and laughing, thinking things like, “Good luck old lady” (not only am I fat, but I'm 48- double dork points) and “don't have a heart attack” and “looks like two pigs fighting under a blanket! Bwahahahaha.... “ (yes, I stole it from Steel Magnolias. I couldn't think of anything better. If you're gonna steal, steal from the masters). Even worse, sometimes I imagine them feeling pity for me, those young firm fit punks driving by in their muscle cars.

The reality is, there’s probably a little of that going on, but not nearly as much as I imagine. Experience has shown me that in my mind, the world is an infinitely crueler place than it is in reality. Thankfully. Most people don't think anything, could care less even. Experience has also shown me that at least a few of those people are thinking, “good for you! Dude, I've been thinking about it for awhile now.... if you can do it, what’s stopping me?” They notice my smile, the little swing in my hips as I run to “Go" by Pearl Jam, they look out at the beautiful day and they wanna be a part of all that. They feel inspired.

And I guarantee you, some older fat person is gonna feel like she has permission. Because I'm taking the leap and embarassing myself in public. And I'm surviving. That’s a wonderful thing to know, that me being willing to flash my humanness to the world can be inspiring. It's not why I'm doing it, but it certainly adds some spicy goodness.

That’s one of the reasons I'm writing about it here: because I'm hoping it might inspire some of you to do something you've been thinking about for awhile, something that lights you up or that at the very least you feel would be good for you to try. It might not be running- maybe it's dancing, swimming, painting, kissing, wearing slinky velvet pants, getting a mohawk (that’s another post for another day), whatever. I promise you that whatever you want to try, there are resources out there available to you to help you do it, there are other people doing it and they are happy to support you doing it. If you're worried about looking silly, well, decide how much you're gonna let other peoples opinions be bars on the windows of the house that is you. Seriously- that’s what it comes down to. There is no end to the amount of juicy privileges and joys that those fears will rob you of.

The new shoes. I promised myself if I stick with it, I'll spring
for a giant upgrade when it's time to get new ones.
(and yeah- they're silver space man shoes. :o})

How do you want to live, feel, love, be; what do you want to do with your one precious life and who's gonna decide how much permission you have? It’s not against the law to run down the street, all 200 pounds of me jigglin and wigglin to Godsmack, puffin and blowin, and causing the earth to tremble as I come (baBOOM ba BOOM). And besides, it makes me feel so. damn. good. to do it. No snarky little punk’s sneer, imagined or otherwise, is gonna keep me from it.

I make a big noise, but the truth is, I say these things because I need to hear them. Often.

Next time you wanna get out on the dance floor and shake your money maker, but your worried about how you’ll look, think about me heading down the back roads of the bottoms outside Arcata, looking like the Pillsbury Dough Girl in a tye dye shirt and a mohawk, with oh-so-sharp-and-comfy new space age joggin shoes, alternately grimacing and smiling like an idiot. Feel free to feel cooler-by-comparison. I don't mind. Just don't tell me about it.

“Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” ~ Howard Thurman

I was on my way to the Marsh to meet a friend after my run today and there, heading down a busy main street, were two adorable young fattish girls running together. They were absolutely beautiful. My heart sang out, "You GO GIRLS!"  I was completely inspired. Again.

I am in a RUNNING program. Go ME!