"But Every Junkie's Like A Setting Sun"

I went running tonight for the first time in...well, probably over a year, to be honest. The last time I remember making an active effort to run was Thanksgiving of 2004, when I went to the Turkey Trot in Oklahoma City with Clif and dad. I ran the one mile race while they did the 5K, and my time was something like 10 minutes for a single mile. There was a time--shortly after Clif and I returned home from Yellowstone 3 1/2 years ago (God, has it really been that long?)--that I could run a mile in 7.20. I sometimes wonder what happened to that version of me, the one who was motivated and enthusiastic and ready to jump into everything, even if it was grad school in Oklahoma (anyone who's read for awhile knows I really didn't want to be there). I was...well, happy, I guess. Not completely and totally happy, but close enough.

Though it's not that I'm unhappy now. I mean, I may have some things I'd like to change--my weight, my ability to actually get off my ass and do what I need to do--but I like where I am in a lot of ways. I enjoy my job (on the good days; I tend to get frustrated on the bad days because I know the good days can be so rewarding), I like my roommates, I've got some friends in the area, and I seem to be on fairly good terms with pretty much everyone at the moment.

So why does it sometimes feel like I'm miserable?

A large part of it--no pun intended--is probably very likely my weight. It's always been a sticking point with me. It's no secret that I have a very negative self-body image. I'm comfortable in my own skin, just not in the extra pounds of fat between said skin and my organs. The solution, of course, is to work it all off: go running, eat right, etc. And I pledge to do that, and I do for a day or two, maybe even a week, and then I slack off again. It's terrible. Consistency is the key, I know, but it's also the catch: if I'm not consistent, nothing will come of it.

I'm hoping this time will be different, I really am. It'd be nice for all my pants to fit. It'd be nice to not be disgusted by what I see in the mirror. It'd be nice not to have to worry about looking like I have no chin if I shave my goatee off. It'd be nice.

But part of what I'm doing this time is getting others to join me in my efforts. Tim went running tonight as well, and his jog was actually the motivation behind my getting up and going: I wasn't about to be outdone by him. He may not be overweight like I am, but I know I'm capable of running. I've done it before, and I'll do it again, dammit. It's that competitve spirit my family seems to have that I sometimes feel twinges of, and it's not always a bad thing.

Anyway, here's to consistent effort and not falling off the wagon again. Or maybe falling off the wagon, 'cause then I'd have to run to catch back up to it.

~chuck

Song of the Moment: The Rolling Stones, "Sweet Neo-Con"