I let out an exasperated sigh of frustration.
I had done everything right.
I turned down every donut, every lemon drop, every sugary drink offered me.
One pound.
One stupid pound.
That's it?
I took the scale and threw it into the closet.
Stay in there you worthless piece of crap.
I turned to the mirror and my face grimaced.
Ugh, those thighs.
Those arms.
Why can't I lose that inch right there?
Right here?
I had become my own competition, but my own worst enemy.
As a runner, I find myself consumed with "losses."
Lose a pound to shave a few seconds off of that 5K time.
Lose a few more pounds to be fast enough to chase that marathon personal best.
Lose, lose, lose.
Be leaner, be faster, be skinner, be this or be that.
I was done with it.
I had turned something so beautiful, so freeing into a cage.
I recently took up weight lifting on the side.
For every hour I run I typically do half an hour of weights.
Like when I began my running career, lifting was about challenging myself.
It was about doing something I was afraid of doing.
Like running, it has become the path that leads me from destruction.
From me destroying myself.
Running is my outlet; for anger, for loneliness, for joy, for self image frustrations.
When I run I feel fierce and beautiful.
Lifting is my barrier; for when I get out of control, for when I think skinny is the goal, for when frailness thinks it has a right to take home in my body.
When I lift I feel strong.
That's all I was after to begin with.
I thought I was after skinny.
I thought I was after looking good in my clothes.
I thought I was after an ideal pant size.
It is not my responsibility as a woman to be beautiful or attractive to anyone.
Lifting has showed me that.
You can be strong, dripping sweat, arms shaking, teeth gritted and not care about how beautiful you look.
Why all of a sudden weight lifting?
It allows me to focus on my gains instead of my losses.
Instead of stepping on a scale to see how many cupcakes I can never eat again, I can look in the mirror with weights in hand, seeing the strength that I alone built.
Instead of pinching my stomach I can see the growth in myself and my abilities as I swing a dumbbell over my head.
There will always be inches to lose, pounds to lose, cellulite to grimace at, stretch marks to pull at.
Who.
Cares.
I am a strong woman.
I push that woman every day.
It is not my responsibility to be beautiful to anyone.
But that woman,
and that woman is size awesome.
