A Fat Girl Goes Into A Running Store

I am not the sort of girl who shops in running stores. In fact, until about a week ago I wasn't the sort of girl who knew running stores EXISTED. Apparently running is such a thing that there are whole stores just for those who run. WHO KNEW? 

I've been wearing these really cute Hello Kitty vans as my casual shoes and then more as my "every day" shoes as this situation with my plantars fasciitis tends to ebb and flow with the moon or something. If you haven't ever HAD plantars fasciitis then get down on your knees right now and pray to whomever you pray to a thankful prayer that you don't have this. 

Here is what it is like, if you want to try it at home. Break up a bunch of glass and put it beside your bed. Make it variable pieces, large and small, sharp and smooth. Then, go to sleep. First thing in the morning, sit up on the edge of your bed and then plant your heel into that pile of glass. Stand up and put all of your weight into this pile of glass. Now, have that pile of glass magically stay under your foot for every other step you take throughout the day.

That's plantars fasciitis. 

Well for some time it's been apparent that even with inserts to help with the pain I needed some better shoes. I wanted shoes I could walk if not run in (I want to run, my body doesn't want to run, thus far I am listening to it). So I asked about and was recommended to go to a running store. My first thought was like this. 

Because a running store would be full of jock people who run and are fit and talk about their low body fat and whatever it is runners do. They're fine individually but runners in a group are irritating to us fat girls. Well, to me. I'm speaking for everyone. I'm the spokeswoman today.

But, it was brought to my attention that they could do a gait analysis and also some other stuff and help me pick out shoes best for ME. This seemed like witchcraft, however, I decided to give it a shot.

I have never tried on so many pair of shoes in my life. And what is this in some shoes I am a ten? WHAT IS THIS LIE?

 In a good shoe, I wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, I buy a size eight.

Ok so maybe a 9 and a half. And apparently a ten on occasion.

UGH. 

But, they all felt amazing. Some were more amazing than others and after a while I narrowed down the most amazing and the even more amazing and made a choice. At that point I was the proud new owner of a really expensive pair of new sneakers.

It's not that I can't afford fancy shoes it's just that hell when you have four kids, one of whom is 13 you tend to make sure they get the stuff THEY need and well mom and dad get what "will do."

We're from the midwest - we make do.

So my experience in a running store was actually really amazing. I wasn't uncomfortable or weirded out but maybe that was because Tamara from twins club works there and so right when opening the door I saw a familiar face and that made it not scary. Her co-worker waited on me, and was really amazing to have someone so patiently listen to what I need and not think what I didn't know about was weird. 

It really made me wish I was some hardcore runner because I want to go back and buy all the things from them because since they were so nice. 

So, running stores exist and they aren't just for runners. Fat girls can go in and buy shoes. Our money is good there. 

Who knew?



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A Fat Girl Goes Into A Running Store

I am not the sort of girl who shops in running stores. In fact, until about a week ago I wasn't the sort of girl who knew running stores EXISTED. Apparently running is such a thing that there are whole stores just for those who run. WHO KNEW? 

I've been wearing these really cute Hello Kitty vans as my casual shoes and then more as my "every day" shoes as this situation with my plantars fasciitis tends to ebb and flow with the moon or something. If you haven't ever HAD plantars fasciitis then get down on your knees right now and pray to whomever you pray to a thankful prayer that you don't have this. 

Here is what it is like, if you want to try it at home. Break up a bunch of glass and put it beside your bed. Make it variable pieces, large and small, sharp and smooth. Then, go to sleep. First thing in the morning, sit up on the edge of your bed and then plant your heel into that pile of glass. Stand up and put all of your weight into this pile of glass. Now, have that pile of glass magically stay under your foot for every other step you take throughout the day.

That's plantars fasciitis. 

Well for some time it's been apparent that even with inserts to help with the pain I needed some better shoes. I wanted shoes I could walk if not run in (I want to run, my body doesn't want to run, thus far I am listening to it). So I asked about and was recommended to go to a running store. My first thought was like this. 

Because a running store would be full of jock people who run and are fit and talk about their low body fat and whatever it is runners do. They're fine individually but runners in a group are irritating to us fat girls. Well, to me. I'm speaking for everyone. I'm the spokeswoman today.

But, it was brought to my attention that they could do a gait analysis and also some other stuff and help me pick out shoes best for ME. This seemed like witchcraft, however, I decided to give it a shot.

I have never tried on so many pair of shoes in my life. And what is this in some shoes I am a ten? WHAT IS THIS LIE?

 In a good shoe, I wear a size six, but a seven feels so good, I buy a size eight.

Ok so maybe a 9 and a half. And apparently a ten on occasion.

UGH. 

But, they all felt amazing. Some were more amazing than others and after a while I narrowed down the most amazing and the even more amazing and made a choice. At that point I was the proud new owner of a really expensive pair of new sneakers.

It's not that I can't afford fancy shoes it's just that hell when you have four kids, one of whom is 13 you tend to make sure they get the stuff THEY need and well mom and dad get what "will do."

We're from the midwest - we make do.

So my experience in a running store was actually really amazing. I wasn't uncomfortable or weirded out but maybe that was because Tamara from twins club works there and so right when opening the door I saw a familiar face and that made it not scary. Her co-worker waited on me, and was really amazing to have someone so patiently listen to what I need and not think what I didn't know about was weird. 

It really made me wish I was some hardcore runner because I want to go back and buy all the things from them because since they were so nice. 

So, running stores exist and they aren't just for runners. Fat girls can go in and buy shoes. Our money is good there. 

Who knew?



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We've Got A Long Way To Go...

I decided last week that I was going to get back on focusing on making myself more healthy as of today. I was at a record low number the day before Dad died, and then I ate like Jabba ever since. I hit a number and managed to hover and there I've been since November.  I decided that through the holidays I was going to be content to just HOVER there. A pound up, a pound down this way or that and I didn't mind. I wasn't going to go berserk, I was going to eat and enjoy my holidays but not graze and stuff myself.

I failed a bit on that last part but mostly I didn't. I didn't work out much, I didn't focus on water, I just let myself exist. It was intense relief, not considering my food all fucking day I have to admit it.

Today however I'm back on it. I did have sugar in my coffee and no regrets but even that will have to go except for maybe once in a while. It's time to get serious again. I know I'm not ever going to be model thin. I sometimes say I want to lose another 100 pounds but that's not really realistic I know. However I'm going to shoot for that number and somewhere along the way I think I'll find the place that feels right.

What I want is to be healthy. I want to diminish my risks for things like diabetes (Dad and Mom had it), of liver and kidney disease (Mom had it), heart disease (Dad had it). I know I can't ever completely eradicate them but I can't accept that I didn't TRY.

So I'm trying. Or - I'm doing, as it were.

Not eating a ton of junk is the easy part to me. I'm always just sort of hungry and I've learned to deal with that. I think that hunger is mental and it fades into real hunger and I try to eat things that aren't total crap and deal with the fact that I would over eat every opportunity I have, if I let myself. So, I don't let myself.

Working out is the struggle.

I could go on about how much I fucking hate it but there's no point. This body needs it. But you can't just go full tilt back into where you were because bodies don't work like that. That's how you get hurt. I decided to do circuit training tonight on the total gym and set the timer at 30 minutes, thinking "If I can just do 20 tonight...just 20 minimum." I knew I wouldn't make the full 30 as the muscle fatigue began to wear me down. My legs began to get numb and ache at the same time, my shoulders and arms began to scream. I thought god I have to be about done right? It's been along time...

I glanced at my timer...17 minutes.

OH GOD ONLY 17 minutes in and I don't even know if I can keep going UGH STUPID BODY WITH NO MUSCLE TONE WHY ARE YOU SO WEAK???

Now maybe it's because I was a music major, or maybe it's WHY I was a music major but music always plays a huge part in how I feel, and I always find that sometimes a song can push me this way or that. It can make me sadder, it can make me stronger, it can make me consider my life even a ridiculous pop song can sometimes say things to me I doubt were truly intended. Music makes my world a better place, and I can't count the number of times a song has randomly come on that changed me at that moment.

So there I am, pulling pulling on the total gym, muscle fatigue taking over, shaking in all my extremities and I think "DAMMIT 17 DAMN MINUTES REALLY???" when it happens. The plucking and planking of banjo and suddenly blasting through my Pandora 70s Country Music channel....

JERRY REED....Eastbound and Down.....

You wanna know where I found another 3 minutes I needed to at least get to 20 minutes for my work out today? From that hillbilly Jerry Reed twanging his guitar and suddenly I'm singing along and busting my ass because BY GOD I am getting to 20 minutes.

I've got a long way to go, and a short time to get there.

Just put that hammer down and give it hell...

Hell yes.

20 minutes. Done.

Thanks Jerry.

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We've Got A Long Way To Go...

I decided last week that I was going to get back on focusing on making myself more healthy as of today. I was at a record low number the day before Dad died, and then I ate like Jabba ever since. I hit a number and managed to hover and there I've been since November.  I decided that through the holidays I was going to be content to just HOVER there. A pound up, a pound down this way or that and I didn't mind. I wasn't going to go berserk, I was going to eat and enjoy my holidays but not graze and stuff myself.

I failed a bit on that last part but mostly I didn't. I didn't work out much, I didn't focus on water, I just let myself exist. It was intense relief, not considering my food all fucking day I have to admit it.

Today however I'm back on it. I did have sugar in my coffee and no regrets but even that will have to go except for maybe once in a while. It's time to get serious again. I know I'm not ever going to be model thin. I sometimes say I want to lose another 100 pounds but that's not really realistic I know. However I'm going to shoot for that number and somewhere along the way I think I'll find the place that feels right.

What I want is to be healthy. I want to diminish my risks for things like diabetes (Dad and Mom had it), of liver and kidney disease (Mom had it), heart disease (Dad had it). I know I can't ever completely eradicate them but I can't accept that I didn't TRY.

So I'm trying. Or - I'm doing, as it were.

Not eating a ton of junk is the easy part to me. I'm always just sort of hungry and I've learned to deal with that. I think that hunger is mental and it fades into real hunger and I try to eat things that aren't total crap and deal with the fact that I would over eat every opportunity I have, if I let myself. So, I don't let myself.

Working out is the struggle.

I could go on about how much I fucking hate it but there's no point. This body needs it. But you can't just go full tilt back into where you were because bodies don't work like that. That's how you get hurt. I decided to do circuit training tonight on the total gym and set the timer at 30 minutes, thinking "If I can just do 20 tonight...just 20 minimum." I knew I wouldn't make the full 30 as the muscle fatigue began to wear me down. My legs began to get numb and ache at the same time, my shoulders and arms began to scream. I thought god I have to be about done right? It's been along time...

I glanced at my timer...17 minutes.

OH GOD ONLY 17 minutes in and I don't even know if I can keep going UGH STUPID BODY WITH NO MUSCLE TONE WHY ARE YOU SO WEAK???

Now maybe it's because I was a music major, or maybe it's WHY I was a music major but music always plays a huge part in how I feel, and I always find that sometimes a song can push me this way or that. It can make me sadder, it can make me stronger, it can make me consider my life even a ridiculous pop song can sometimes say things to me I doubt were truly intended. Music makes my world a better place, and I can't count the number of times a song has randomly come on that changed me at that moment.

So there I am, pulling pulling on the total gym, muscle fatigue taking over, shaking in all my extremities and I think "DAMMIT 17 DAMN MINUTES REALLY???" when it happens. The plucking and planking of banjo and suddenly blasting through my Pandora 70s Country Music channel....

JERRY REED....Eastbound and Down.....

You wanna know where I found another 3 minutes I needed to at least get to 20 minutes for my work out today? From that hillbilly Jerry Reed twanging his guitar and suddenly I'm singing along and busting my ass because BY GOD I am getting to 20 minutes.

I've got a long way to go, and a short time to get there.

Just put that hammer down and give it hell...

Hell yes.

20 minutes. Done.

Thanks Jerry.

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