"Run Fatso Run!"

I had a dream last night where I weighed 260 pounds. I was running on the side walk in my town. People driving by were shouting mean things out their window like, “run fatso run!” I woke up in tears because that dream brought me back to my own reality. That was something that happened to me on a regular basis not long ago.

There are lots of reasons why a person may be overweight. It’s easier in the United States to eat unhealthy then in is healthy because it’s often cheaper and faster. Some of us eat as way to deal with stress and our painful past. A few have health problem that make it easier for them to gain weight. My point is that no matter what the reason is shaming a person or publicly humiliating them is wrong.

Since I have lost weight I have noticed that more people are willing to look me in the eyes. Men hold doors for me. I didn’t even know that men still held doors?! If I am at the grocery store only buying a few things people let me go ahead of them. It’s like I am being seen for the very first time and it pisses me off.

We are getting bigger and I am not saying that this is not a health crisis but the way we as a country are trying to fix it is shameful. Take a look at some of the Billboards going up across our nation.



They just give reason and voice to bullies everywhere to make fun of and pick on overweight people. And just so we are clear bullies do not only exist in the classroom. They are family members, co-workers, and strangers on the street.

The only honest answer I have here is that shame is not the path to recovery. That being said I think we need to look at our food that continues to loose nutritional value because of poor soil conditions and the unethical way we treat our animals. I think we need to look at our health care system and make mental health an important issue. I think we need to provide more afterschool programs for our children. Some parents can afford to take their children to softball and soccer practice, but those the children most at risk for being overweight come from families that don’t have the finical means or time.

If you are one of the lucky people that has never had to worry about your weight, good for you! If you don’t have something nice to say then keep your mouth shut.

If you are an overweight person and are running on the paths or show up at the gym you are instantly my hero. You are brave. You are standing up for yourself and making it possible for others. I know I would have never started this journey towards a healthier me without people like you.

An Appropriate Race Hug

According to Runner’s World Magazine I failed to give an appropriate Post-Race Hug. In case you didn’t know the etiquette -

Baseline duration: 3 seconds
If the hugger personally knows the huggee: +2 seconds
If the hugger and the huggee are strangers: -1 second
If both parties are sweaty: +1 second
If the hugger is male and the huggee is female: -1 second
If the hugger is female and the huggee is male: +1 second
If the hugger and the huggee are a couple: +3 to 5 seconds
If the hugger and the huggee are a couple, but their spouses are nearby: -2.5 seconds
By Mark Remy
From the November 2010 issue of Runner's World


My first 5K was in September. I was nervous. I had just started running about a month half ago. For me this 5K was a huge. It symbolized my new commitment to not just my physical health but to me. It was something I did for myself. I had no other reason or purpose to run this race except for me. The feeling of doing something for the first time that I could remember just for me overwhelmed me with excitement and joy. When I saw Lavender waiting for me at the finish line I started crying with all of the emotion of the last 3 miles. When I crossed the finish line I embraced Lavender and cried for an appropriate amount of time, like maybe 5 minutes maybe longer. When I run the marathon in October I am sure the appropriate amount of time will increase for me. Sorry Mark Remy but like with most things in life I just don’t fit into a neat little schedule.

Jeremi

I have shared many memories with Jeremi. I can’t even began to count the number of times he was over for dinner and still here for breakfast the next day. He was just over for dinner a couple of weeks ago. I made Black-Eyed Pea Masala that night and blogged the recipe because he kept talking about how good it tasted. He was part of the small circle of friends and family that was at our wedding. He was a part of my family.

I have not given my daughter many positive male role models. Jeremi is the exception. I hope she takes away from their time together the way she deserves to be treated by a man. He showed a sincere interest in her life, showing up for choir concerts, birthdays, band concerts, soft ball games, and dance performances. He listened to her and did things with her that she enjoyed. Together they logged countless shopping hours. They were both into designers and loved to shop. I am sad that his two year old daughter will never have the opportunity to have him at her events. I know he would have been the kind of father who would have delighted in being involved in everything she loved.

Our friendship was an unlikely one. We didn’t agree on politics or religion. He had an expensive taste for the finer things in life. I can’t understand why anyone would ever spend over $25 for a shirt. The one painful thing we did have in common is that we didn’t feel comfortable in our own body. He struggled with his religion and being gay. Jeremi carried at least one bible with him everywhere he went. He read the bible faith filled and faithfully every day. He was raised to believe that being gay was a sin.

His funeral is on Tuesday at a Baptist Church. His family will all be there and I am sure they will be saying wonderful and true words about a great man, father, son, brother, and uncle. The one thing no one will mention is that he was gay.

Jeremi loved red high heels. He said they made his calves look hot. It is something about him that I bet most people at the church do not know. I will be wearing red heels to honor him. To honor all the great things he was that he never felt like he could share with the rest of his world.

I wish things could have been different for him. I wish being gay was not so painful for him. I wish he could have found comfort in his religion. I hope that if we can learn something from his death it is that we continue on a journey of being ourselves and learning to love ourselves for who we are. I pray that he has been released from the bondage that plagued him in life. I pray that we have the courage to continue breaking our own bondage.

Before and After

There are a lot of before and after’s in my life.
After I had my second divorce
Before I ‘came out’
After I went back to school
Before my daughter was old enough to not need a babysitter
Before I met my wife
After I fell in love with her
Before I could run a mile
After the first time I ran 10 miles.
The list could go on but for your sanity and not wanting you to fall asleep I will stop here.

The one type of ‘before and after’ I can’t get into is weight loss pictures. I know that they provide some with inspiration and I also know some people who carry their ‘before’ pictures with them to keep them motivated but this is not for me. (Please don’t hear me saying that this is wrong. It just isn’t right for me.)

I am trying to learn to respect my body and all that it has done for me. I am trying to live outside of shame. I feel like if I looked at my past pictures as before weight loss that somehow I am not honoring how amazing my body was to me during that time period. My body at 260 pounds was worthy of love, respect, and praise. I was beautiful and I couldn’t see it. Instead I chose to hate my body.

My spouse wrote this on a picture she drew and hung it in our room, it is to her younger self, “Little one, you are wise and strong. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for offering us shelter and healing. Please, let us heal together. We are beautiful.”

Take out the “little one” and change it to 260 pound body and that is what I wish I could go back and tell myself.