Miles Against the Mirror
Also, until LOASG drops, I’ll be obsessively looping Popular Monster because metal just hits so hard lately.
Last Resort Reimagined - I’m not the same person after listening to this rendition.
Eight weeks from today, I will stand at the starting line of the marathon I’ve been building toward for months. And this week, more than the miles, it’s been the mirror that has challenged me.
I’ve been here before — the familiar shame of not liking how I look, even while knowing how strong I’ve become. I’ve learned something new this season: running can make you look “puffy.” Glycogen and water storage fill the muscles, swelling the body in ways the mirror doesn’t always feel kind about. My size small shirts some days fit loosely, other days like this week, they fit snug and that, is so triggering. But that puffiness? That’s fuel. That’s survival. That’s how my body arms itself for the distance.
At 17, I was diagnosed with anorexia. I will fight this for the rest of my life and endurance sports has been such a powerful tool in the battle against my obsession with what the scale said.
Back then, I measured my worth by how small I could become. Running gave me a way out of that spiral — a way to eat, to feel proud, to want strength instead of erasure. Today, I weigh more than I ever have as an adult, and some days that is hard to carry. But it’s also true that I feel more confident than I ever have, because I know this body is fit, fast, and resilient. I’m the strongest and fastest I’ve ever been and no amount of thigh wobble can disrupt that.
This week I’ve been wrestling with shame again, and yet I keep coming back to the same truth: I don’t have to love how my body looks to respect what it does. Swimsuit season can be so hard for someone dealing with body dysmorphia.
It’s especially hard not being able to restrict my calories knowing the risk it brings to the table in terms of risking another injury which would take me out of running again. I can’t risk it, so I eat, and I don’t want to. I drink the high calorie recovery drinks this week and really don’t want to.
But I’m pushing myself as hard as I can to be strong. Because right now, I don’t want to be strong, I want to be ok and at the moment I’m just not.
So I’m carrying these mantras with me into the last eight weeks:
-This body is not decoration — it is an engine.
-Strong doesn’t always look like I imagined, but strong feels like freedom.
-Every ounce of water weight is not weakness — it’s fuel.
-Respecting my body is how I’ll cross the finish line.
Eight weeks to go. And this time, I’m choosing pride over punishment.
Post run, post shower, hydrating selfie 🤳
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