Running when you’re fat is an exercise in hope. You have to do it to get fitter, but you look terrible. One day I will feel like this when I run:
For the moment, however, I look like this:
Still, I loved being out there again. Wonderful feeling to move with speed again, I felt lucky. The problem is in my head. I think that as I am not photogenic, that I am unpleasing to look at when I exercise, that I should hide away, should refrain from this side of life. Why? Who on earth would be offended by this? I know that society insists in a variety of ways that women must be decorative and that they fail if they don’t. It seems to be one of those times when I police myself and censor myself rather than any specific real concern.