Over[we]i[gh]t

The number on the scale says 158. BOOM-POW, there it is. I remember in my younger, pre-running days sitting in the delightful 130s. I remember when I first started tipping over 150. BUT APPARENTLY I AM TWO GODDAMN POUNDS AWAY FROM 160. And I'm hyperventilating.

I've been told it's muscle. I've been told I look great. I've been told it's this or that or a faulty scale. But in my entirely neurotic mind all I see are red flashing numbers telling me I've reached my heaviest weight. Ever. At a time in my life I run more miles than ever before -- even working on speed and function. AND I EAT FRUITS AND VEGETABLES AND USUALLY SOME HEALTHY THINGS more than I ever have before.

I know it's just a number. I know we're supposed to focus on how we feel and how clothes fit, but having a bout of ill-fitting, 7-year-old jeans last week hasn't helped. I wanted to cry. I felt gross. And knowing that now, at my most active and healthful self, I still push that number out of the scale horrifies me. I just checked my health records: 5'6". I am 158 pounds at 5'6". My BMI is over 25. You know how that classifies me? OVERWEIGHT.

Which just pisses me right off.

Overweight? I just ran 4 minutes away from my better-than-average half marathon PR. Came off a year of ultra marathons. Am training to shoot for a 3:50 marathon in October. AND THE BODY MASS INDEX WANTS TO TELL ME I'M OVERWEIGHT?

Yet the world wonders why women are plagued with eating disorders and horrific self-image. I'm tired of society. I'm tired of the waif-like ideal. I miss the Olympics, when those bad ass women rocked their muscular bodies and didn't flinch at a weight in the 150s (granted, they've all got about 3 inches on me).

Right now I don't feel good. I don't care how anything fits. None of that is currently curing the distress in my mind. I don't know who ever instilled in our minds that anything over 130 pounds was tragic, but damn them straight to Hell.

No, this isn't a cry for help. No, I'll never resort to anything even resembling an eating disorder because food is my hero, but fuck. I just thought I'd throw this out into the public space because I know I'm not the only one fighting the fight. I'm over it.

[grumble] [piss] [moan]