I've never ran a full mile. Not when they made you do it in school in the big field in PE class. I was the kid who walked it in 13 minutes, nearly last every time. And not during the several 5ks I completed.
I got the crazy idea to train to run a full 5k a couple years ago. I was about 245 lbs and I was in the gym at least 3 times a week. I put on an electronica station on my Pandora and warm up for a few minutes. Then I would bump up the speed and feel my feet pound on the treadmill to the beat. My heart pounding at even a slow running pace, my breath burning in my throat, trying not to look at the seconds ticking by ever so slowly. I worked my way up to a full 5 min and I was so incredibly proud of myself even if it was far less than a mile, even if my weight hasn't budged at all. It was an accomplishment.
Soon, however, my knees and ankles and feet started to send the message that my body wasn't built for running. A bad bone spur, plantar faciites, and crunching knees sent me to the bench. The dream of the 5 k, the small accomplishment, the sweat, the burn. ...it was gone like a dandelion floating away on a spring day. Up up and away until every little wisp was gone.
I plummeted into the worst shape of my life. 280 at a lifetime high, out of breath climbing the stairs in my home, feeling the strain to tie my shoes. I guess maybe this is my bottom. So it seems it may be the perfect time to climb back to the top. No better time.
In 27 days I will have gastric sleeve surgery. This is my story. How I climbed from the bottom to accomplish my dream of being a runner. I will no longer be the runner in the fat suit. I'll just be the runner.
