Plugging Away

I signed up for my first 5K the other day.

It should have been an exciting step for me, but I just can't seem to gather up the requisite enthusiasm. Maybe it's because I have been working out 5-6 days a week for over a year now, and yet I am the exact same size and weight as I was 12 months ago. Intellectually, I know full well that this situation stems from my particular love for all foods sugary, fatty or fried. Truly, I am so anti-healthy food that I will often go hungry rather than eat a vegetable if that's all that's available to me. It's a sad, sad thing, but it's all I know...I've been this way as long as I can remember. For a long, long time I got away with it...and then all of a sudden I didn't, and many many many pounds later, here I am. There is no denial - I get it. I am fully aware that I am not only an over-eater, but also a junk-eater, and that I got to where I am today through no one's fault but my own. It's a problem with many tangled roots that I am just beginning to sort. I'm hopeful that I'll eventually get a handle on my eating, but regardless of my success (or lack thereof) in this area, I am quite certain I will have food issues for the remainder of my life. Everybody battles at least one demon. Mine is food, plain and simple.

Although I know I have a long way to go nutrition-wise before anyone would do a double take when passing me on the street (unless they are checking out the rather alarming dimensions of my ass), I'm still perplexed as to why my body hasn't changed more from all the exercise I do. I know that many people say they "work out" or "exercise," and these terms can mean anything from taking a leisurely stroll to running a marathon. I would say I fall somewhere in the middle of those two. I'm definitely not an athlete, but I do work really hard. When I'm at the gym, I'm all business. There is no autopilot, no halfway. I am sweating and heaving and pumping my heart out for 60 minutes or more every time. And on the inside, I feel great! I feel powerful, I feel strong. (Well, most of the time...there's always the occasional day when I am convinced I'll have to be rolled out of the gym on a stretcher.) But you'd never know my strength - or how hard I've worked, and continue to work - by looking at me. Which is rather depressing, and may be why I've stopped reaching crazy levels of euphoria whenever I hit a new milestone like lifting more weight, raising my RPMs, or signing up for my first race. It's not that I'm unexcited...it's just that my excitement is waning. And why shouldn't it? Everyone thrives on positive reinforcement, it's human nature. But you can only boost your own morale for so long, and no one else has any clue how hard I'm working b/c I have the body of a thoroughly dedicated couch potato. And even if someone did try to be encouraging, what are people supposed to say? I don't know what form their encouragement could possibly take that wouldn't be at worst insulting and at best patronizing. "Oh Jen, I'm so proud of you that you've been working so hard...that double chin and excess flab are looking GOOD!" or "Don't worry Jen, even if every person you encounter sees you only as a lazy lump of surplus flesh with arms bigger than an average person's calves, what matters is that deep in your heart, you know just how strong you really are."

It's a frustrating situation, but despite my above foray into self-pity, this last year and a half has brought me crucial self-knowledge for which I am most grateful. The most baffling thing I've discovered about myself in my entire adult life is that I do, in fact, love to exercise. I need it, I crave it, and I turn hella cranky if I can't get my hands on it...much like my relationship with chocolate, actually. I just wish my body revealed a little more of my exercise addiction and a little less of my food addiction.

Oh well. Possibly the balance will eventually shift. Or perhaps I'll decide one day to stop undermining my best efforts in the gym with every single thing I put in my mouth. Or maybe I am already the best me I can be while still remaining sane and sated, and this is how I'll look the rest of my life. Time will tell. The bottom line is that I may never be able to give up my favorite foods. However, I DO know that I will never ever ever give up exercise.