A New Kind of Swagger

Running 26.2 miles truly gives you a new kind of swagger. I feel, having now completed a marathon, that regardless of time or perceived level of "success", the step you take across the finish line is the first step into a whole new version of yourself.

I don't care who you are. Even the most humble person develops at least an ounce of cockiness after completing one of the greatest athletic challenges of all time.

So what happened? What was the race like? You want the gory details? Hell if I know. I was half out of my mind towards the end, and the second the finish line was in sight it was as though a giant eraser just cleaned out all memory of pain or distress or self-doubt. I sort of remember the pain in my quads, Linkin Park blaring through my iPod, and throwing a Gatorade cup on the ground in anger when I saw the mammoth Hill Intended to Kill You at mile 25.

Dr. Joe, always relating life to sports so I can understand it, told me once that life mimics the marathon. There are so many highs, lows, challenges, victories, experiences...it is ever-changing. When you "hit the wall", you have to just keep going, knowing that another "runner's high" may only be a mile or so away. Running a marathon, like in life, requires a lot of hope and grit and faith.

I finished my first marathon in 4 hours, 24 minutes...only about 20 minutes behind my initial pre-injury goal. I bawled my eyes out when I crossed the finish line, so much so that the race official thought I was hurt. All of the physical pain of the previous four hours fell away instantly, and here's the amazing thing...a great deal of the emotional pain of the last year or so fell away with it. It was the most incredible and life-changing experience I have had to date.

And what does someone recovering from an eating disorder do once she finishes a marathon? Not what you may expect: I ate like there was no tomorrow. Sweet potato fries, pulled chicken sandwich with an amazing Southern barbecue sauce, cole slaw, potato salad, potato soup, jello shots, wine, ice cream cone, countless slices of pizza, salad, fried (yes, I said fried) ravioli, Belgian waffle, scrambled eggs, fruit, cupcakes, Starbucks...

And then when I arrived home a day later...

More cupcakes (compliments of LA), a veggie burrito, glasses of chocolate milk, Turtles from my student assistant...

I couldn't get enough. But you know what? I enjoyed it. I really did. And I talked to JN last night on the phone and can honestly say I can let it go. I realized, in talking to JN, that the body I sometimes try to "fix" is the same one that carried me through 26.2 miles of running (something, let's be honest, very, very few people ever attempt to do...let alone complete). So, hey, ya know...if it wants some foods it usually doesn't eat...whatever.

And carelessly swallowing large amounts of junk food without too much of an afterthought is just one small facet of the new swagger.

The other facets of the new swagger come from a renewed confidence and trust in myself. Running a marathon taught me that when I'm faced with immense struggle, only I truly have the ability to pull myself through it. Tangible proof (in the form of a marathon finish) that I do, in fact, possess that ability is a bit of a game-changer looking forward.

Over the last several weeks (months, actually), I've picked up on a common theme that has been peppered into conversation, comments, emails, etc. It's come in different forms and isn't always cut and dry (in fact, rarely so bluntly stated, but often implied): you only run these distances because you have an eating disorder.


Um, no. But thanks for your concern.

I may have used running as a vehicle to burn loads of calories before. But just because I still run (or RUN...capital letters imply the sheer insanity of the mileage) does not mean the motivation is the same.

I run for the rush of the finish. I run because I enjoy the confidence gained when completing the goals I set for myself. I run because my good friends run, and it's a way to stay in touch with each other (what else do you think we do when we run for hours together?). I run because I crave intensity in my life and exercise is how I choose to use my energy. I run because I like to do the things other people are afraid to try. I run because I like challenges. I also run because, well, I'm kind of good at it. So why the hell not.

It takes some time spent in eating disorder therapy to let go of the previous motivation for exercise. But just because someone lets go of the disordered motivation for the activity doesn't mean she needs to give up the actual activity. There's a difference.  

So completing the marathon has given me the swagger to brush that implied belief aside when I sense it behind the "concerned" words of others. Some will always see me as weak, sick, and eating disordered. That's fine. I get it. I'm still thinner than most women my age, I still eat healthfully, sometimes slip back into old thinking (but always reach out to LA, JN, or Dr. Joe immediately, like I've been trained to do), and continue to exercise more than the vast majority of the general population. Those are the things people will see on the outside and use to form their judgments and opinions. I can accept that. But that doesn't mean I need to stop what I'm doing, especially if I'm confident that I'm a better, healthier person now than I was a year ago.

LA reminded me once that many people think that weight gain and eating junk food is a a sign that a formerly anorexic person is "healed", but that those outward signs are not at all indicative of whether or not someone has overcome their eating disorder. Rather, it's the stuff people cannot see: the change in motivation for exercise, the self-acceptance, the improvement in body dysmorphia, the movement away from a need for perfection. Only the individual (and maybe the support team who has been there all along) is able to see, feel, and experience the real change and growth.

Swagger comes from knowing inside that you've become a better, stronger version of yourself...whether those on the outside can see it or not.

I went to physical therapy yesterday and consulted with my therapists and doctors about my recent problems with my leg. Given the success of my first (and what I thought was my only) marathon, I've been given more...as long as we correct some of the orthopedic issues with orthotics and continued physical therapy.

So I'll be doing another. And who knows how many more. There's also a 50K on the books for this summer, and a host of other half marathons and fun races with friends. I'll be continuing to run a lot of miles to train for them because I want to have the best shot at achieving those accomplishments; not because I am a "former eating disordered" person.

I am now a marathon finisher. I am a runner. I now run because that it where I choose to spend my energy and time and competitive spirit. That's the bottom line.

I'm also a lot of other things: loyal friend and wife, a writer, a professional, a leader... I'm not defined by running, but it is something I enjoy a great deal. It has also saved me and helped me to grow as a person and brought amazing people into my life. It's given me the mental strength and resiliency to overcome nearly anything I encounter.

A weak, sick, person cannot complete a marathon.

But I just did.

Food for thought.