I was a chubby kid. And I’m not talking about pinch-her-cheeks-what-a-little-darling kind of chubby. I was fat.
Being the youngest of four with a working single mom, you could say that I had a lot of time on my hands. I was a bookworm, so my natural inclination was to snuggle up inside with a book. . and whatever convenient back of snacks was near me.
As the weight began to creep on, the problem was only compounded by the fact that my mother, formerly a wonderful cook (for some reason she has no longer enjoys it, which is another story) and baker would ensure that we had wonderful cookies, cakes and goodies around all the time, since she was working hard and couldnt’ be home with us. It was her way of showing us love, and we LOVED it, to say the least.
But, my nearest sibling was five years older, and as time wore on I found myself at home alone more and more. Food was my friend.
But then it wasn’t.
Kids are mean. The sting of their words in the neighborhood still haunt me. “Hey fatty! Want us to roll you around?” “Fatty fatty, two-by-four. . .” You get the picture. I felt like it was beyond my control, that it wasn’t really a choice, this was just, well, me.
Time grew on and luckily I became more active, getting into sports and I shot up unusually tall for my age, which really helped. But I never forgot how awful it felt to be chastised. Even within our own family fat jokes were made, because all of us were overweight. Not terribly overweight, but enough to make jokes. And once you start living with fat jokes in your own home, it just becomes part of, well, you.
Throughout the years I’d gain 15-20lbs then lose it again. It was unhealthy but for some reason I do better with bigger goals, rather than managing a consistent lifestyle. A year ago, though, when I was laid off from my corporate job, I started working out as a means to relieve stress, and running became a regular part of those workouts. When I formed a running team with Rachel Pustilnik of Stroller Strides for the 2008 Monument 10K, running started becoming more of a social outlet and an interwoven part of my life rather than a chore, another item on the to-do list. When we crossed the finish line, each one of us in varying times, we felt an incredible euphoria and an inner voice that said, “See, you are a runner.”
It probably sounds silly but I always thought that other people were runners. Thin people. Athletic people. People who didn’t grow up in chubby households. People whose parents taught them to run and they excercised as a happy little family unit. I’ve learned that nothing can be further from the truth–that anyone can pick up (doctor’s release willing!) and start at any time. It’s a sport that requires little investment and provides quick results.
I’m still chubby. But I’m a healthy kind of chubby. Since my dad died at age 50 from heart disease I know I’ve got a family history against me, so I do it for my health over anything. I run a few times a week (when I’m being good) and even more when I’m training for a race. In fact, our Monument 10K team is kicking up for 2009, and there are still a few spots left if you’d like to join us. We won’t judge, promise. We’ve all had our battles with “you can’t run,” “you’re chubby” and all the other head voices, so all we provide is support.
If running isn’t your thing, check out the HCA Women’s Heart Health initiative and find other ideas on ways to keep your heart tickin’ like a champ. And tell the voices to just clam up. You’re in control now.
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