Maybe?

So this past weekend, I went to Fort Worth to run a 10K. Now, to be sure, the 10K was just a side event. The main event was visiting my BFF since kindergarten, Michele. My husband was working long, crazy hours, and her husband was working long, crazy hours, so why should we have to battle the kids alone, right?

We had so much fun. We didn't do much, but just sitting in her kitchen, laughing and talking while our kids played together? AWESOME. Just like we had imagined it when we were in school and we were going to live in the same neighborhood and our kids were just going to go back and forth between houses.

But the 10K...

When I started running seven years ago, it wasn't because I thought I would ever been any good at it. It seemed like an easy way to burn calories. I didn't have to go to a gym. I didn't need any special equipment -- just throw on some clothes and run. I could do it anytime, anywhere. I'm the queen of excuses (or I can be), and I knew if I had some structured gym-type thing, I'd never go because of x, y or z.

So running it was, and has been for quite some time now.

There were over 1,000 runners in this 10K. It was a very hilly course and the descent was worse than the ascent sometimes. The runners were more aggressive than what I'm used to around here. Not that that is a bad thing, but it was unsettling at first, and then I got into the groove (so SE Texas runners, watch out!).

I finished in 52:24, so a couple of minutes less than my previous 10K PR. That was good enough for 7th out of 63 women in my (gulp) 40-44 age group. I finished in the top 250 overall (I think it was 216th).

But...seventh. 


It made me start thinking that maybe I can be good at this. Not Olympic-team good. Not finishing-the-Boston-Marathon good. But possibly running-a-sub-3:00-marathon good.

Maybe I am good at this?

Backlash.

If you're active on various social media sites, you've seen them.

They're usually pictures of mysterious, sexy-looking, beautiful women (like Marilyn Monroe) who are a little on the overweight side, with captions that say, "Remember when curvy was sexy and skinny wasn't?" or "What man wouldn't rather have this than a bag of bones?"

Nice stuff like that.

I'm getting tired of seeing them.

When I was 135 pounds overweight, when I was 45 pounds overweight, I may have been curvier than I am now. I may have had more "meat" on my bones.

But I was freaking miserable. I was a walking health risk. Every bite I took, every step I didn't take was pushing me, if not to an early grave, to a life that was not going to be fun.

My cholesterol was sky-high. I had a lower back issue that medications and physical therapy didn't help.

I most definitely didn't feel sexy or beautiful or amazing.

I guess I could be called "skinny" now. I prefer "in shape," "healthy" or "fit." I have strong legs and arms and shoulders. My blood work? Perfect. My lower back issue? Non-existent.

And while I wouldn't call myself "sexy," "beautiful" or "amazing," I am extremely happy with where I am.

(I would go into how women battle among themselves about various things (motherhood, working, weight) because they are insecure with how they are doing things, but honestly? I'm 40. I've been a mom for almost 13 years. I've been married for 17. I'm bored with that garbage.) 

Here it is: I was criticized when I was overweight, and now I'm criticized when I'm in shape. It appears I can't win, but here's something new: I don't give a damn.

I wouldn't post a picture of a woman with an athletic body with a caption that reads, "Don't you wish you were like me?" or "If you got off your ass, you'd be on your way to this."

I know how difficult it is to take that first step. I know how it is to feel trapped inside your body. (I also know how it feels in your brain, in your heart.)

But I also know how glorious it feels to lose that pound. To run that mile. To be stronger than you EVER thought you'd be...

Lists.

On my list of things I like to do, making lists is right up there. It also happens to be a lazy way to do a blog, so here I go...

1. I spend most of my time in my house freezing to death. Seriously. I hate to complain about it because for 10 of the 12 years we've been in this house, we had an old A/C that could barely keep up with the heat outside.  Now we have a brand-spanking-new one that is (obviously) doing its job and doing it well, but I wish that just one day out of my life I could walk around in my own house without wearing a pair of my husband's thick socks.

2. I have been enveloped in the whole Game of Thrones book and TV series so much that it is almost comical. I'm on book three. I anxiously await 8 p.m. on Sundays so I can watch the latest episode. I listen to podcasts about the show, y'all. The thing is that I am so not into this fantasy crap...ummm, I mean genre that this is just a testament to the good writing and intrigue that George R.R. Martin puts into each novel.

3. We are remodeling our kitchen in a few months and I am terrified. It's going to be a fairly simple remodel, in terms of remodels; we're not moving anything around and it's just basic new flooring, new appliances, new cabinets, etc., but I am scared that when they take down the painted paneling (yes, you read that correctly) that currently resides in there, they're going to find something. What that something is, I don't know, but I've read enough books to know that it could be anything.

4. We are going through a rough patch with our tween son -- just basic mouthy-ness, nothing too juvenile delinquent yet. Luckily for us, our normally difficult daughter is being an angel. That will change, I'm sure.

5. I'm planning on taking said tween son to see the midnight showing of "The Avengers." We can't wait!

6. I hated baseball for a very long time -- mainly when I worked the copy desk at the newspaper and had to hold up pages for games that lasted FOREVER (Texas Rangers, I'm looking at you). Then I started loving baseball with a fierceness that surprised me. Now? I don't even care enough to hate it. I always get excited for the World Series, no matter which team is playing, but October is a long way off.

7. I'm starting to get riled up by the backlash against people who are fit and slender, or at least trying to be fit and slender. That's a whole 'nother blog in itself, so I'm just going to let it simmer for a bit.

8. My Katie-Boo and I planted two tomato plants and some herbs this past weekend. Katie loves plants -- she gets her "green finger" (as she says) from her Nana and her great-great-grandmother on my side (Maw). We've had success in the past, and it's all her. She's like a mother hen with those plants -- she checks on them twice a day and talks to them.

9. The vet says that our sweet beagle is overweight by four pounds. I'd take him running with me, but I'm afraid his overwhelming desire to sniff everything would hold me back.

10. Last week, we had a development day for faculty and staff, and there was a session on yoga that I attended. I've done yoga on my own before, but never with a class. I was very impressed with the woman who gave the class, and am considering taking classes from her studio. I've used the techniques she taught us a few times since then, and they've worked!

On to eight.

I started out running for weight-loss purposes. It was easy and didn't require a lot of equipment. I could do it in my neighborhood without having to drive anywhere or schedule it in. I had a free hour -- run!

As I lost the weight I planned on losing (and then lost even more than I could have thought), I kept on running for the maintenance aspect, but the most important part of running became the mental part.

Those endorphins are incredible, y'all. My patience was longer. My temper wasn't as short. Small things didn't get to me. Heck, big things didn't get to me.

I'm starting to think that my body is used to running six miles five days a week. I'm not getting the endorphin rush that I used to get. On Saturdays, when I run 10, 12 or 15 (or 20), I do.

But on the other days? Not so much.

I still feel great, but it's not the same feelings as I was having.

So, starting tonight (didn't run this morning because of random lightning that never turned into rain, GRRR), my daily runs will be eight miles. I won't have to get up any earlier; my morning routine will just get cut a little shorter (by about 10-12 minutes).

I'm not sure what to do when I get used to the eight-milers...