I’ve been running lately. Actually, I’ve been running since the end of October when I moved back to the farm. I’ve always wanted to be a runner, it’s one of those things that shows up on my resolution list again and again. I have, in fact, had the same resolution list for at least the last ten years if not more.
It reads like this: 1) Write a book, 2) Run, 3) Lose weight and 4) Go on four dates this year. None have ever been accomplished.
I take that back. I lost weight last year, but I’ve gotten stuck at this plateau and can’t get past it. I’d be happy living the rest of my life here, at this familiar number – but I’d really love to live it twenty pounds less. And, like I said, I’ve started to run which will hopefully help me get there.
I don’t run as much as I’d like or as far as I’d like, but at least I’m getting out there and doing it. I’ve even signed up for two races. One is right around the corner on January 8th (it’s only 2.2 miles) and the other is on April 2nd in Richmond, VA (it’s a 10K, that’s 6.2 miles!).
With these two dates doing their own race in my head, I went out for a run yesterday afternoon. I decided to try a new road in addition to my regular route. The problem is this: I have to run all of 200 feet along the main road to get to my new destination. I decided to walk it since there isn’t a sidewalk or much of a shoulder. And in those 200 feet I was nearly clipped by an 18 wheeler almost immediately after venturing past my usual end-point. A few moments later a car drove past, the occupant of which decided it necessary to roll down his window and yell out “LARD ASS!!!”
I was shocked. I was hurt. It wasn’t the first time I’d been called a name like that (and it probably won’t be the last) but it has been so long since being called out and chuckled at that it cut – deep. But it was also so odd to be called fat, to be ridiculed on the same day that I’d signed up for my first two races of the year (I plan to do four in total). Here I was training for a 6.2 mile run. Could this mystery man, from the safe confines of his car, run the same?
Anyway, it was deflating. The three pounds I’d gained over Christmas felt like thirty. I was the fat, awkward thirteen year old being called a fat cow in the middle of the cafeteria all over again.It also made me angry, like I need to prove him wrong.
And so, I’ll keep training and I’ll re-tune my diet and I’ll run those 6.2 miles and I’ll lose those last ten, fifteen, twenty pounds because there is one thing you never say to me – that I can’t do it.
So THANK YOU Mr. Lard Ass. Thank you for being an immature, judgmental and obnoxious … prick. You apparently were exactly what I needed.