WARNING: This might be triggering. Please read with caution.
**I considered not posting this, but I have decided to do so for a number of reasons. I think it’s an important thing for me to talk about, and I think it says some worthwhile things. I don’t want to give the impression that I think that mental health problems are trivial, they are not. This is why I am running the Royal Parks Ultra for the mental heath charity Mind. You can read more about why I’m running for Mind here. You can donate over here.**
Something weird and unexpected happened to me on my run last night. I ran by a very, very thin woman and I didn’t – even for a moment – wish that I was her. I think it’s the first time ever that it’s happened. And, here’s what was happening in my brain: she is lovely and thin, but my not-lovely-and-thin arse and legs are going to get my body around 80kms – and not drag them around (well, maybe drag them around the last few kilometres) but run them around. It’s something I wouldn’t be able to do without my slightly-too-large, muscular thighs.
I spent the next few minutes feeling very pleased with myself about the whole thing, and then I ducked into the allotments and threw up.
Now, that in itself is shockingly unsurprising for a long-time bulimic who goes a bit up and down (and well, aren’t we all like that…) but – and hear me out – it really wasn’t like that. It was the bottle of water that I had basically sculled, on top of dinner, before bolting out the door for my run. It was sloshing around in my stomach and making me feel ill. I have a love-hate relationship with feeling full, and sometimes it does get the better of me. Coupled with running, it was just too much.
Looking at me you wouldn’t necessarily think that I’m anything other than a regular 30 year old, and especially not that I have this ‘dark secret.’ It’s certainly not a glamorous thing to discuss, but I’m not adverse to talking about it. In fact, the older I get the more and more I’m seeing that one of the reasons that I have struggled with this other woman for so long is because I have refused to talk about her. I mean, it.
Running has been the best thing for me, but it only helps so much. But now, the debates that I have aren’t ‘will I be fat?’ but ‘will my body be adequately fuelled for the 22km run I want to do later.’
This is from Postsecret. It wasn’t written by me, and it doesn’t describe my circumstances. It tells a bigger story than I could.
For now, I don’t think I can write any more about this. Perhaps another time, I will.