trapped inside

A few weeks ago I was running with some ladies who aren't my normal running group.  I was tagging along, if you will, on their 6 mile long run.  They're really fit, fast runners, and I was pleased that they had agreed not to leave me in the dust.  (questions?, go read that running blog post from last summer where I was left behind about 500 feet into the long run, this is them.)

Except, this time, I kept up just fine.  No problems.  8 months of training and I can keep up with them on their runs if they slow down a touch and I push myself a touch.  Sure, they out sprinted me in the end of the run, one of them is part Kenyan, and one of them is actually some type of Gazelle hybrid.  

As I run with them though, I realize that I am definitely Barney Rubble.  The short square side kick that says funny things for the amusement of the audience.  So, let's for a minute assume that these women are a size 2/4 and size small 6.  I say small 6 because we all know the 6's at Express are smaller than the 6's at LOFT.

One of them turns to the other and refers to an article in a magazine.  Unfortunately for me, I haven't read it so I had to struggle to follow along in the conversation, but I caught up.  It was called something along the lines of "the fat girl inside you".... and the topic was that many runners are lean in appearance, but they're not working out their other muscle groups so they're actually "fat" instead of "lean", thus, making them, in effect, fat girls trapped inside skinny bodies.  Both of these women determined that they were, in fact, "fat inside".

After a few steps I chuckled and said, "Pretty much every woman I know has a terrible body image of herself, perhaps we're all fat girls trapped inside of skinny girls.  Except that I am not the fat girl inside the skinny girl, I am the muscled girl inside the fat girl".  If I wasn't covered in a layer of fat, I would be totally buff... fat on the outside and muscled on the inside, that's me.

My tiny running mates protested, that I too was "skinny." (Yea right, so... Barney Rubble, A Gazelle, and a "part Kenyan" all walk into a bar....).  

No, I'm not I explained, I know how I look.  And I think I do.  I squeeze into my cheetah skirt, my thighs are always bulging out of my skirts, my waist is squishy, my Buddha belly is getting really out of control, and I have a strip of fat that lines my inner leg... not just my thigh.  My whole damn leg.  But the Gazelle and Kenyan are very convincing, as are some other people in my life, and I started to wonder.... am I a skinny girl with a fat body image?  Could I be thin and not know it?

...And then I saw the race photo from The Cary town 10K.  If a picture is worth a 1000 words, then this one is worth 1000 lbs.  No seriously, I look like a 250 pound 5'2 inch woman running all out in a cheetah skirt.  It's bad.  Super bad.  After looking at that photo, I will never eat again.  Seriously.  I already broke up with chocolate.  This one is bad enough that I think I need to break up with food all together.  Maybe I should join weight watchers...  Maybe I should join the LEAN program...  Maybe I need to have some self discipline so I can stop paying other people to tell me what I already know....  Maybe I should buy that photo and paste it on the fridge and pantry doors...