I can’t.<\/p>\n
That’s what I hear in my head.\u00a0 That’s what I hear when I talk.<\/p>\n
I just… can’t.\u00a0 Not today.<\/p>\n
And yet having stuffed my face with half a jar of peanut butter, drowning my sorrows and frustrations and regrets in the crunchy goodness of peanut-y, buttery goodness, more than ever do I need to work off some of the weight.\u00a0 The moonshot is this month.\u00a0 My bathroom scale groans under the pressure of time and girth.\u00a0 In two weeks I’ve seemingly gained 15 pounds.\u00a0 Is that even possible?\u00a0 It must be.\u00a0 It’s the same scale.\u00a0 Gravity hasn’t been altered.\u00a0 The only thing different is… me.<\/p>\n
Body shaming is a buzzworthy thing of the moment… and perhaps has been a thing since time immemorial.\u00a0 As a guy, there’s a sexist forgiving curve for male body shaming — there’s less virtiol, an easier excuse for “distinguished” with age rather than “old and wrinkled.”\u00a0 There’s an unfair forgiveness of the ballooning belly.\u00a0 And I’m mindful of the body shaming advantage afforded me as a dude, it also means folks are nicer than the reality dictates.\u00a0 I’m hating the way I look.\u00a0 The weight isn’t coming off.\u00a0 And this “moonshot” is feeling more and more like a “moon folly.”<\/p>\n
I’m feeling depressed beyond words.\u00a0 It’s a tough, tough day.<\/p>\n
I can’t… I just… can’t.<\/p>\n
But I did.\u00a0 After much delay and doubt, I laced up my shoes and went out for a short run.\u00a0 My headphones broke in the opening mile.\u00a0 I sucked down two bottles of water before the turnaround.\u00a0 But I went.\u00a0 I don’t feel much better… but every little bit helps.<\/p>\n
There’s a post over on Facebook today from a group called “Run For Life<\/a>.”\u00a0 They are also on twitter with the handle “@runnevergiveup.”\u00a0 And though it was an ugly run today, this seems oddly appropriate and kinda needed as well.<\/p>\n
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