I Think I'm Officially a Runner...But Yeah, Who Knows

If you've never been to the Endurance House I suggest you go - now. I had never been there until last night and walking into the store I immediately fell in love, not only with the cute men working there but the packed walls of running shoes and energy bars and wet suits and cute but practical work out clothes and watches that do all sorts of fun things...sigh, I was in runner/tri heaven!

I went in to buy a fuel belt last night because I'm at the point in my training where I'm going to need to take things like Clif Bars and water and Gatorade (yes, I'm the original Lemon Lime kind of girl), etc. with me.



I have been fighting the title of "runner" for awhile now, and I'm not sure why I haven't embraced it. I think it's partly because I find it a little absurd.


I mean this is ME - Jen Bishop. A year ago (today), even after losing 15 - 20 pounds I still couldn't run 1 mile - in fact one mile was ridiculous to me. Running was something that you did in other sports because you were in trouble - it was punishment. It wasn't fun and wasn't something that I ever did because I WANTED to and I certainly wasn't doing it unless I was being chased by a robber or bear or something (and even in those situations there would absolutely be thoughts of just playing dead and crossing my fingers - all to avoid running).


And now I'm a new Jen. Runner Jen. I ran 9.33 miles yesterday, in an hour and 31 min. (for those of you who hate math like me, that's a 9:46/mile average)...kinda makes you giggle a little doesn't it?

This new Jen, she loves to run. In fact, I enjoy jumping out of bed at 4:15 am to throw on my running shoes and hit the road. There is really nothing better to me than running through quiet neighborhoods as the sun rises listening to Sugarland (yes, that's what's getting me through right now - it's a little slower than my Pink Bus Soundtrack that got me through 100 miles of running in March - it helps me pace) and just being with my own thoughts. I find myself longing to be out by the lake in Madison with all the other runners - even when I've already gotten my run in for the day, and there is nothing better than coming in from a run all sweaty and feeling awesome, like you could conquer the world.

All this old Jen vs. new Jen thing is sometimes hard to grasp. It's sometimes hard to look in the mirror and recognize the girl staring back at me. But the old Jen is there, shiny June face and all. She's there and will always be a part of me. But coming to terms with being a runner is a struggle - that is hard to describe.

It's hard to explain how the changes in the last year have made me feel or how they have led me to question who I am. I am certainly not looking for sympathy (ahhmm...sister), but it's difficult for someone who has been "the fat girl" all her life to really get a grasp on this new world. And I think it's equally difficult for someone who has never gone through this change to grasp.

This new world is a very self conscious one - one where I analyze every part of my body and think about how it jiggles too much still, or there's too much skin somewhere, or the muscles that I actually now have in my arms should be a little bit bigger. And, there are days when I look in the mirror and see a girl 75 pounds heavier. It's a world where I don't put myself out there with people as much and am much more reserved than I have ever been.

It's funny to think about and try to explain a loss of self to someone. I mean for starters, I had to throw away (well I gave it away) ALL of my old clothes - things I had for years and things that I loved were just one day gone. And now I stare at my closet wishing for those things back. That fabulous brown jacket that I loved and those awesome jeans that even though they were huge I felt great in them. Those things are gone and replaced with things that don't have a history with me. I often cracked up at the girls who would go on those fashion shows and cry when their old wardrobe was getting thrown away - now I find myself as that girl.

But it's not just the wardrobe. It's a loss of self esteem at a time where I should have more than ever. It's a feeling of running in the opposite directions of friends that I have known and loved for so many years. It's a questioning of what I have passion and excitement for. It's the difficulty of meeting new people because I don't do the bar scene anymore (and thank God for that). It's a longing for tranquility when my head is going crazy. It's trying to find some faith in something, myself primarily.

I feel raw and exposed, and it's really fricking scary. I guess the upshot is that I can be anyone, and do anything and can turn this around and make it work, which is what I'm hoping for, trying for and praying for.