This is not my first attempt to lose weight.
The first time I lost 20 lbs was right after moving to Los Angeles and enrolling in musical theater school. The combination of dance classes (all which I hated taking) and stress brought on by a school I didn’t mesh well with caused me to drop down 20lbs. It was awesome.
Of course after school I slowly started to gain that weight back. This time it was because I hated being in LA and my career (writing) wasn’t going the way I thought it would go. I’d had a mentor tell me to do two things if I wanted to get into the writing biz; 1) write a spec script 2) move to LA. So I did just that and also decided to attend school again. When I was suddenly faced with having to audition and write and pitch and scramble to make myself stand out among the millions of other writers and actors in LA I couldn’t handle it. The weight came back and I didn’t bother to try to stop it.
Until last year when I ran into an old college flame on my birthday. He remained as chiseled and hard and sexy as he’d been in college and just seeing him kind of made me feel like I was 19 again except this time I felt like I wasn’t attractive enough for him. It made something click in my brain and after my birthday I got back on track. I got into biking and Pop Physique and eating right. I cut back on drinking again and again I lost 20 lbs.
Then another change occurred. I gave up auditioning and freelancing and my part-time job working at a fitness center and took on a full-time job. It required me to sit in front of a computer and talk on the phone for 8 hours a day and it was at odd hours which drastically changed my workout and eating schedule. Immediately the 20lbs I’d lost (twice) came tumbling back with a vengeance. I was ready to give up. I started to talk myself into believing I was meant to be “thick” and “curvy”.
But recently I changed my mind again. I simply wasn’t able to convince myself to accept mediocrity. I could do better. I wanted this. I’ve wanted this for so long and for so long I’ve pretended I didn’t want this or that I didn’t deserve this or that I couldn’t have it. But none of that is true.
So now I’m running. For years I was afraid of the treadmill. I was constantly plagued by images of myself tripping and falling while trying to run on one so I’d avoided the machine at all costs. I don’t know what made that fear suddenly go away but all of sudden I can’t get enough of running on the treadmill. I prefer the treadmill to trails or parks or the street because it’s my assigned space. I don’t have to dodge dogs and small children or jog in place waiting for the light to change. I don’t run the risk of someone bumping into me or having to slow down because I’m stuck behind a slow moving pregnant lady or an elderly gentlemen. I can go at my own pace in my assigned space. And the more I push myself the more in love with running I fall. At this point, no matter what happens with my weight loss goals I feel pretty confident that running is something that will always be part of my workout.
The other day I was stuck at a light at the intersection of Cahuenga and Sunset and I saw a girl running at full speed down Sunset trying to cross the intersection before the light changed. I had to admire her for a moment. I wasn’t nearly as fast and I thought her form was impressive. She was going somewhere. It was inspiring and it made me feel proud of the 30 minutes I’d managed to run on the treadmill earlier that day.
I may run in place on my treadmill in my gym but I’m going somewhere too.