Hey You

This letter was posted on the I *heart* to run  FaceBook page yesterday.  I don't like the word "fat" unless we are talking about a macro-nutrient in food.  I almost changed it to post on my blog - but I don't want to offend the original writer - whomever it was at I *heart* to run.  

It was somewhat serendipitous that I noticed this post, because after I ran on the treadmill at the gym, I came in to the locker room to see a very overweight young lady testing her blood sugar.  She was obviously post-workout and exhausted.  I tried to catch her eye a couple of times, but she wouldn't look at me.  Me, in my running gear and no-longer-overweight skin.  She judged me just like she assumed I was judging her.  

I wish I could wear a shirt that said "I used to weigh 70lbs more than this."  Maybe I should get some tech shirts made up.  I wanted so badly to give her some encouragement, a hug, a high five.  

So - enjoy this letter that was posted yesterday.  I wish someone had "said" these words to me when I was the Fat Girl.  

Hey, Fat Girl. 

Yes, you. The one feigning to not see me when we cross paths on the running track. The one not even wearing sports gear, breathing heavy. You’re slow, you breathe hard and your efforts at moving forward make you cringe. 

You cling shyly to the furthest corridor, sometimes making larger loops on the gravel ring by the track just so you’re not on it. You sweat so much that your hai

r is all wet. You rarely stay for more than 20 minutes at a time, and you look exhausted when you leave to go back home. You never talk to anyone. I’ve got something I’d like to say to you. 

You are awesome. If you’d look me in the eye only for an instant, you would notice the reverence and respect I have for you. The adventure you have started is tremendous; it leads to a better health, to renewed confidence and to a brand new kind of freedom. The gifts you will receive from running will far exceed the gigantic effort it takes you to show up here, to face your fears and to bravely set yourself in motion, in front of others. 

You have already begun your transformation. You no longer accept this physical state of numbness and passivity. You have taken a difficult decision, but one that holds so much promise. Every hard breath you take is actually a tad easier than the one before, and every step is ever so slightly lighter. Each push forward leaves the former person you were in your wake, creating room for an improved version, one that is stronger, healthier and forward-looking, one who knows that anything is possible. 

You’re a hero to me. And, if you’d take off the blaring headphones and put your head up for more than a second or two, you would notice that the other runners you cross, the ones that probably make you feel so inadequate, stare in awe at your determination. They, of all people, know best where you are coming from. They heard the resolutions of so many others, who vowed to pick up running and improve their health, “starting next week”. Yet, it is YOU who runs alongside, who digs from deep inside to find the strength to come here, and to come back again. 

You are a runner, and no one can take that away from you. You are relentlessly moving forward. You are stronger than even you think, and you are about to be amazed by what you can do. One day, very soon, maybe tomorrow, you’ll step outside and marvel at your capabilities. You will not believe your own body, you will realize that you can do this. And a new horizon will open up for you. You are a true inspiration. 

I bow to you.