Being Skinny Freaks Me Out

Working out was rough in the beginning. I had to bribe myself with new books and CDs and I counted down every minute I spent at the gym. Eventually, I started to enjoy certain forms of working out. I lost the extra weight I gained in college and got back down to my normal, chubby self. The one thing I simply could not stand was running. Maybe it was flashbacks to coming in last in the mile run that did it, but I simply concluded that I would never be a runner.

And then I agreed to run a half marathon

Okay, to be fair, when Emily asked me if I wanted to run in Go! St. Louis, I thought I was agreeing to do a 5K. I soon realized that instead of 5 kilometers, I would be running 21. That’s a huge freaking difference, people. Did I mention I hated running and had never successfully pushed the treadmill over 4.5 for more than 20 minutes?

I could have backed out. I could have told Emily she was out of her freaking mind (she was) and just gone back to my elliptical machine. In fact, 2 other girls who pledged to do this half marathon with us did just that. But I didn’t. I had 5 months to make this happen and I refused to believe I couldn’t do this. Over the course of the next 5 months, I missed less than 10 runs.

That is excluding a week I had to take off for health reasons. By health reasons, I mean my 4 year relationship with my boyfriend ended and I stopped eating. However, I continued to train at first. I refused to let him take this from me. I would eat nothing and then run 6 miles. I was going to bed with negative 600+ calories. Before I started training, I had been consistent with workouts and eating habits, so I had not really lost any weight through the training, only gained muscle. **That first week after the breakup I lost 7 pounds in 7 days. ** After seeing the scale, I decided I needed to take a week off, force some food into my body and then come back ready to destroy that half marathon. I was back on the treadmill in a week, but that 7 pounds was gone forever.

I finished my first half marathon in 2 hours and 22 minutes, which was 8 minutes faster than my goal time. I was a champion with the sexiest calves you had ever seen. I was triumphant, and with those extra 7 pounds gone, I was the skinniest I had ever been.

It didn’t make me happy

I crossed the finish line in tears. I won’t get into the details now (perhaps in a later post), but the breakup was the main reason. There I was, being awesome, running 13.1 miles like a freaking boss and showing my genes what’s up by being a skinny bitch. Then a stupid boy goes and steals my finish line moment? No freaking way. Within the week, I signed up for another half marathon, this time in Denver, Colorado.

Ultimate do-over

I went to Denver with my old college roommate Roxy to visit another old roommate, Abby and her boyfriend Jack. This time I had fans to see at the finish line. I was so ready. I destroyed that race, finishing at 2 hours and 9 minutes. I dedicated the finish to the Catholic school I worked for. I felt amazing. The memory will always make me smile.

But the photos freak me out

When I see the photos of me after the race, I am so confused. I wasn’t a stick by any means, but I was freakishly thin for my build. My chipmunk cheeks prevailed, my hips still screamed “baby bearing width” but my waist was so small. It just looked unnatural. And you know what? It felt wrong.

I didn’t want to be that thin. I wanted to be Chubby Rease again. I wanted that 7 pounds back, damn it.

Two half marathons later and all I want is ice cream

I simply do not fit into the skinny body type. After moving to Argentina, I gained 7 pounds back and I was thrilled. I know that sounds crazy but it’s true. I still work out every day. I would wager I could kick a lot of skinny girls’ asses in an intense workout session. Everyone just has a certain body type that works for them. My brother, Ben, is a ripped personal trainer and he looks totally natural flexing his muscles like a pro.