Racing the Non-Racer

This morning I headed to the pool for a workout. I typically use Fridays as a rest day, but wanted to get in some extra exercise before a long weekend roadtrip with my best friends from graduate school. We're heading to Nashville this weekend to "get crazy"...although our roadtrips have gotten decreasingly crazy as we have entered later stages of adulthood. We're even taking a minivan this time (because one of us actually owns one- what have we become?).

Swimming, is, actually, a rather boring sport. Sometimes I can't believe I spent so much of my life staring at a black line, flipping around, and then staring at it some more. Hours and hours spent swimming yard after yard and not really getting anywhere. But there are many times the black line has allowed me to ponder life's ironies.

Most competitive swimmers I know abandon their pre-set workout and begin to speed up when someone new gets into the next lane over. It's a subtle one-upmanship that exists in the sport. I am guilty as charged. Even for just a few hundred yards, I will pick it up until I have convinced myself I am the better swimmer, then settle back into my workout with a renewed comfort that I still have "It". Whatever "It" may be.

I've also picked up this habit in running, thanks to my friend and running partner, B. On our long training runs, we get a rush from slowly closing the gap and picking off the people running ahead of us. Of course, both the swimmer in the pool and the runner up ahead are oblivious to the fact that we are "racing". Yet we (not just me or even B...but all of us perfectionists...come on, admit it. You do it too...) get such satisfaction from winning the race.

Racing the non-racer. Sounds strange. Overly competitive. Obsessive, even.

I decided this morning (after I had "beaten" the oblivious swimmer next to me) that the mentality behind an eating disorder is much the same. Racing the non-racer. Trying to beat myself...but for what?

Last week, I was in full-blown Stubborn Anorexia Mode. Not wanting to eat despite hunger. Not wanting to give in. Wanting to prove how strong I could be, achieving despite disadvantage ("See? I can run a half marathon in under 2 hours with no food in my body!").

And what did Dr. Joe say to me in his so-laid-back-I'm-almost-asleep way?

"Ok, M. You win."

I was winning a race with myself. And sure, I won. But who is an anorexic person competing against, really?

Herself. And she doesn't even know she is in the race.