It is such a huge, big, horrible deal for a few minutes. It’s like, all of a sudden, I cannot handle a thought and I have to fix it immediately. Literally. So I went and ran 4 miles. Which probably seemed crazy. I guess it sort of was being dark outside and having drank a few. I am so stubborn though, I just had to. It didn’t harm anything, what it did do was make everything better. And if 4 miles can make everything better than so be it, right?
So the reason this happened. I, likely because of a steep decrease in mileage, have gained 7 pounds since November. This always seems to happen. I always weigh far less during cross country season than I do coming out of winter. I blame it on injuries…winter training does not like me. Whatever though, I don’t even need to train..I am not on the team.
But this is killing me!! I am happy off the team, but I have to run still. I have to run hard core still. My body likes me better when I am running high mileage. Or, I like myself better. Which is stupid because that is basically saying, I like myself better at 113, and I hate myself at 117. Argh what the fuck, seriously. No one fucking cares if I weigh 117. Really, Emily, really.
Why do I get so frustrated so quickly with a fucking number. I don’t even think I look any different. Well, I didn’t until I found out the numbers. Then of course, I look huge. I know it’s pretty ridiculous.
You know, I think that’s what drives me nuts most about all of this. That I can see perfectly well that it is completely insane for me to want to lose weight, or think I am fat, or need to go run 4 miles because I ate too much. And then once I think any of those things, I’m telling myself, no, it’s fine, you’re fine, but I am so afraid that there’s some chance I’m not fine and everything I think is true that I have to fix it right then, or I am absolutely miserable.
None of this makes sense.