Day 1, Week 13: A little heavy weight-lifting & a little freakout about fat.

This Sunday was a weird day.  I normally procrastinate all day long about doing my long run, and then finally suck it up and go out and do it and then get angry that I had to do the last of it in the dark.  But since I ran long yesterday, I had to do something different.  And by "different" I mean "lift heavy weights."

I did lift more than one at a time I swears.

I did my usual Cathe Ramped Up Upper Body, also with the usual dog obstacles in my workout space.

But I knew this would be the last time I would be doing this type of heavy lifting because it's taper time, kiddos.  The mileage will be reduced, the weights will be lighter, and everything will be geared towards making sure I have enough energy to run 26.2 miles at a 9:20 pace so I can cross the finish line at the Dallas Marathon in a 4:05.

And that means I don't have energy for freaking out like I did this morning about the tank top I was wearing for my workout.

That tank top was new, and I had bought it months ago but had never had a chance to wear it because it got buried in my dresser drawer.  I put it on, looked in the mirror, and then promptly freaked out about how fat I looked like OMG LOOK AT ME I AM HUGE.

Now, we all know that statement is complete nonsense because huge is what I used to be, not what I am now.  But hey--old habits die hard when you were once a size 22, and since you're trained basically from birth to be entirely overcritical of your body if you are female.  So what's a girl to do when she's in the middle of a "I'm so fat" freak-out?

Take ridiculous selfies, of course, to make yourself realize it's not as bad as it seems.

Embrace my mid-section fatness.

Maximum ridiculousness here.

See?  I did lift 2 weights at once.

Ridiculousness always makes me feel better.  And realizing that I am not defined by my perceived fatness makes me feel better, too.  While I could have ripped off that tank top off and put on a big baggy t-shirt, I was determined to show that shirt who was boss.  I kept it on and realized about 15 minutes into the workout that I didn't care how fat I felt in the shirt--I was too busy concentrating on how well those heavy weights were being lifted and not letting Cathe down.  Or letting the weights fall down on my head.

I'm glad I spent more energy on the workout than obsessing how I looked in a shirt that no one was going to see me in (until I decided to post those ridiculous selfies, that is).  From here on out, I resolve to not freak out about how I look in anything and instead spend way more time freaking out about hitting my time goal in Dallas in a few weeks.

And here we go with the learnings again:

• While I still think skinny doesn't equal pretty, it doesn't stop me from freaking out about looking fat.  I'm working on it.
• If you're ever in the middle of a downward spiral of "I'm so fat"-ness, ridiculous selfies are always sure to drag you out of it and give you a new perspective.
• Animals in my workout area.  The struggle continues.
• The freaking out about hitting my time goal has begun.  You have been warned.

Tomorrow's workout:  An easy early-morning run with large dog.  He hasn't been run in a week, so here's to hoping I won't get dragged into a ditch every 3 minutes.