Scatter my ashes here...

Scatter my ashes here...
scatter my ashes in the desert...

Thursday, February 18, 2016

Leaning The Wrong Way

Wake up call!

After sitting on my butt more than I ever should, with at least another 4-6 weeks before I'll be less tethered to the desk, I happened to be in the doctor's office recently and got weighed.

I am 5'1". With each passing decade, it seems like my body has settled into a slightly higher weight. That's been okay when it happens gradually. My body is the type that clings to fat, it doesn't like to let go easily, and I have to work very hard to lose weight when I want to. Having a bad thyroid might have something to do with it, even though I take thyroid replacement hormones, they are never what your body makes on its own.

It might also have something to do with the fact that I am right at menopause, basically I am there, standing on top of it, at the peak, barring any surprises in the next few months to knock me off my self-assurances that I'm done with that pain in the ass body function that serves no purpose whatsoever except to make my race mornings more annoying. And I am 52 years old. My metabolic function is slowing, it's reality.

Most of my female relatives are short, like me, but most of them weigh barely 100 pounds and have little, tiny bird bone wrists. They don't have big powerful quadriceps or calves like I do. They're not athletes, either. I don't know where I got my bigger bone structure, or my muscular build, or my athleticism, but it's what I have, and it's served me well. I don't envy their bodies, I just envy their ability to keep their weight down at age 60 when I have to struggle so hard. And they have thyroid problems too.

But back to the wake-up call. I stood on the scale, having kicked off my shoes, and the medical assistant kept pushing the metal weight further and further to the right, until I felt like I was going to tip over with it. I've never seen it go that far to the right!

I've always had a tendency to lean to the left. Whether it's seeing runners finishing a long ultra, in politics, and social issues. And on the scale too. I really haven't spent much too time east of 120 pounds, just during short, occasionally stressful or inactive periods of my adult life.

I was flabbergasted when I saw how much I weighed. I have gained a full 20 pounds since I ran my last race in September of 2014.

Holy crap. No wonder I can only run 11 minute miles these days.

No wonder my new, one larger size, just bought last year because I caved, pants are too tight now. No wonder the other day when I was running in my capri tights for the first time this season, that I had the new, weird sensation of flesh between each iliac crest bouncing up and down.

And when I lean to the side in my office chair, I can feel flesh in a crease that never was there before. And my butt is spreading over the chair, covering more territory, encroaching slowly, as it dominates the seat surface.

That's it. Done. I need to get off my ass, start running and putting some effort into it, and quit eating and drinking without thought. I guess I'm too old to do that anymore and ever get away with it. My BMI is solidly in the overweight range. Over 25, by a good tick. I'm FAT. I'm obesifying!!!

What did I expect? Consuming things with abandon...thoughtless, repetitive, hand-to-mouth action...

Don't tell me I'm being too critical of myself, or that I look good, because I don't care how I look. Maybe I happen to hold 140 pounds well for a 5'1" person. I don't care.

It's how I feel. I feel FAT. And no matter what people say you look like, it is not healthy to be fat. Even if nearly everyone else is. My body is made to run. Long distances. At a reasonable pace, not plodding along.
So now I'm 5 days into being very careful of what I eat to get a jump start on changing my habits, I haven't had a beer since last Saturday, and I'm VERY CRABBY!

"She hasn't been the same since the house fell on her sister"
Tread lightly around me for the next few weeks. Your life depends on it.

No comments: