Tuesday, March 26, 2013

“If there are no heros to save you, then you be the hero.” – Denpa Kyoshi

Spartan Shape Up, Day 614:

I went running today.

...and every other day, for the last week or so. I'm 4 solid runs into "back on track." I've been eating 95% like I should, drinking water, stretching.... and really just doing what I know I should and need to be doing to feel healthy and get where I want to go.

Fueled by the fire of heading (back) in the right direction and the need to get out of my office chair and away from my laptop screen, I suited up and headed out for a run today.

Since gaining back a little weight, "suiting up" isn't as awesome, because I see all the bulges in the spandex again, and the extra tire where there wasn't one this summer. However, I turned away from the mirror with the knowledge that I was taking control of that vision of myself, going for a run, and moving myself 5K closer to where I wanted to be. My inner fat chick groaned because running has gotten to be a challenge again, but my outer badass informed her that it was too damn bad, and it was her fault we were here in the first place. Tie. The. Sneakers.

It was a beautiful day today. 40 degrees. Light breeze. A sure sign that spring is, indeed, headed our way. I almost enjoyed my mile long warm up, of walk-run-walk-run, to help my legs get back into the swing of things. I've been having difficulty with my calves turning to rocks early in my runs, which is just a sign that I haven't been doing this enough. Nonetheless, it was a lovely day out and I had given myself permission to "train" to my current ability level, rather than jog miserably and resent the place I was, because of injuries and winter and such.

I was training. I was working with what I had and I'd started to recognize that familiar feel of accomplishment. 2 miles in, checking the Garmin, not a great pace, but I was still under 12 minute miles; I accepted that as I re-trained my calves to keep going, despite their protestations. Serious protestations. Every couple blocks, they'd turn into concrete blocks, I'd wince and walk for 20 seconds and let them relax, start again.

This is a frustrating process for someone who, at one point last year, was training and running double digit numbers. However. We deal with what we have to work with, and I'm determined to get back to that. On I ran.

As I was in my last 3/4ths of a mile, I was going pretty slow. Still, I was pushing through with the rhythmic left, right, left, right in my head. I could look far down the street and see the stop lights that signaled my finish line for the day. I was in the homestretch.

For the most part, when I run alone, I'm in the zone. Left, right, left, right. One block of sidewalk at a time.

I was jarred out of this peaceful work time, by the harshly whispered, "...Thunder Thighs...." that hit my ear.

My latent Inner Fat Chick stopped short, suddenly feeling like the taunted 8th grader again, shrinking back to the far reaches of myself and fighting back rising tears. However, always one to subscribe to the "never let them see you cry," mentality, I forged on. I ran the remaining 3/4ths of a mile fueled on frustration, upset, sadness....... but then, I ran fueled on power. Power that came from the knowledge of the mountains I've climbed, literally and metaphorically, and the great leaps forward that I've made, from what I used to be.  I reflected on the drastic 180 I made in my life from depression, potato chip chowing, career in holding down the couch... to happy, confident, Spartan Race'ing, CrossFiting, Paleo-eating (...ish), career in whatever the HELL I want, because I can do ANYTHING.

MY "thunder thighs" are pillars of achievement.

They've crossed... 30+ finish lines, trudged about 260 muddy, obstacle course miles, walked beside and supported my friends that wanted to change their lives too, squatted my body weight and gave me the courage to stand confidently up and write my story for the world to read and help other people know that there is hope for the Inner Fat Kids.

My THUNDER THIGHS still touch ( I like to think the muscles are just too big...), they jiggle, they don't fit in "skinny" jeans.... but my thunder thighs will carry me to places that YOU - Mr.Idiot, stomping along, smoking a butt, muttering insults as I pass - could never HOPE to go.

May you get exactly what you deserve, my ignorant, weak, angry and projecting, passerby.

THANK YOU for fueling me though the end of my run and, through your ever so apt observation, remind me EXACTLY who I am.

I am a powerful being, BLESSED to have thighs big enough to help me hold up my massive hopes, dreams, goals and all around Awesomeness.

Respectfully yours, Blogland,

Love, Thunder Thighs.


  1. Love your writing and your story. It takes a lot of self awareness to pull yourself out of your inner fast kid when some ignoramus thinks he's being clever. Knowing you are strong, beautiful and marvelous is paramount. And I can even feel a little sorry for the jackass... how miserable is he to feel the need to bully a passerby who is coming something for herself and not at all impacting him. You had power in that moment. And he unwittingly gave it to you.