Running Toward Myself

National Running Day 2012 -- When Did YOU Learn to Run?

Yesterday was an important day to many of us here in blogland....... it was National Running Day, and in honor of the total awesomeness of having an entire day dedicated to the sport that has transformed my life in so many ways, I thought I'd take a minute to turn back the pages of time and look over my life as a runner. WARNING: This will NOT be pretty. I am NOT a pretty runner. I have NEVER been a pretty runner. But I AM a runner...now.  And for that, I give thanks. I give SO much thanks.

Caution: There are pictures never before shared with cyberspace. Be kind. It was the 90s.

Age 8: When Running Was At Its Purest

Not Running? Let's Climb!

I was a tomboy through and through...complete with the bowl cut, leathery bare feet, and a vocabulary full of "aint's" and "unhunh's." Living on a farm, the outdoors was my life, and my mom would literally have to chase me inside each night, well after dark, usually after a rousing game of "Children of the Corn" with the kids in my neighborhood. We'd shoot baskets all night, play capture the flag, climb trees, catch fireflies. You name it, we did it. While running our little feet off. Running wasn't punishment...yet. It was fun. All fun and freedom. Oh how I wish I could have bottled this time of my life so that I would have been able to take that bottle down off the shelf during all the times of my life when running (and fitness and health) were mere mirages in my desert of obesity.

Age 16: When Running Was a Means To an End

High School = Happy Days

I'm a basketball player at heart, playing through high school and earning a scholarship to the only college I ever thought about attending. All through junior high and high school I had one goal: Get That Scholarship. Of course, the sport of basketball involves running, but running itself is not the "sport" of it...and so I fought it.  I would cut the run during preseason conditioning, walking along the back of the school with a few other "resistant" runners when we were were out of sight. I'd cut my laps short during warm up for practice. I'd even make fun of my friends and teammates who embraced other "running" sports, such a cross country (yeah, lived to regret THAT one) and soccer. To prepare for college basketball, I THOUGHT I was working hard and running up to a mile along rocky and dusty country roads to get ready for those hot days of conditioning with new teammates in the fall. However, my "hard" was apparently pretty darn weak, and that team conditioning every day during the dog days of August and September nearly killed me. K-I-L-L-E-D ME. Did I learn my lesson? Nope. Instead, I hated running even more. Running = The Devil.

Age 19-26: When Running Was a Real Joke on Me

Freshman Year --  Laugh Now

Shortly after all that hate, ire, and detestation of running of my basketball days, running and, really, all athletic-related activities faded into the background as I was diagnosed with Graves' Disease. I struggled mightily throughout the rest of college and, truly, much of my 20's, to get ahold of myself and stop the slide into oblivion that  my body was taking. When I looked into the mirror, I no longer saw Charity. I saw Big Fat Blog Formerly Known As Charity. I saw frustration and disappointment. I saw my lost dreams, my lost goals, and my lost plans for my future.

End of Sophomore Year

My wonky thyroid, hyperactive when I was diagnosed on the day of my first basketball game my freshman year in college, had given me a super-charged metabolism to help me drop quite a few pounds before my senior year of high school. I was in the best shape of my life when the doctor informed my mother and me, "This isn't always cancerous." Yeah. Great bedside manners, dude. Way to start out a diagnosis with an 18-year old girl, scared out of her mind. Super job. By the grace of God, the goiter was NOT cancerous, and many months and doctors later, I was able to take the first step on a long road that would be my recovery. I had a total thyroid ablation by way of a yummy radioactive iodine cocktail....certainly not the type of drink I'd had in mind for my college days. This event was paired with a total ankle reconstruction, and, thus, also marked the end of my basketball playing days.

Senior Year - Not Funny Now.

Looking back, these two events changed the course of my life in ways I wouldn't realize until many years later. With the one true love of my life ripped from me, I slide into a depression (although not one person who knows me would tell you I was there) that lasted for, truly, the next 6 years. Due to the thyroid ablation,  my wonderful little metabolic powerhouse went from 60 to zero in 2.6 seconds. Without a metabolism (we are talking NO, not LOW) and unable to take synthetic thyroid hormones for many months due to the remaining radiation in my system, my weight skyrocketed. Pair that with my depression, and a vicious cycle was created: Gain weight. Be depressed about it. Eat food because if I'm gaining weight I might as well enjoy it. Gain weight. Be depressed about. Ad infinium. Add 100 pounds. I felt powerless to stop it.

Living life as a former athlete-turned-obese woman was one of the hardest things I've every had to do. Every time I looked in the mirror I saw the strong, quick basketball player of my youth. But the woman looking back was absolutely not that person. She was an impostor who had invaded my body and was holding it hostage. And I tried and tried each and every day to figure out the ransom. Little did I know that my old friend, running, would be a part of the deal to get me out of captivity.

Looks like this retrospective is getting a little long. Look for Part II tomorrow....and find out how Charity Got Her Groove Back, umhmmm, girl......