On Bulimia, Anorexia and Running.

I never called myself a bulimic. Even when I had become "good enough" at purging that I could do it in public places without the attention of anyone in a surrounding stall. I wasn't bulimic, it was just something I did. I never had full on binges where I would devour entire pizza's, packages of oreo's, bacon maple milkshakes and an assortment of potato chips. I just threw up no matter what I ate. As if I shouldn't eat anything at all. I never lost any real weight. Just maintained where I was, and that was okay with me. The more you purge, the easier and more addictive it becomes. And easy is good. No real work involved in throwing up- no exercise needed. No strength, just weakness.

I never called myself an anorexic. Even when I could eat a small salad with no dressing and call myself full, or skip meals completely. I wasn't anorexic, I was just exercising control. I never went an entire day without some sort of food- I just chose to count every calorie, weigh myself constantly and beat myself up if I felt like I needed food. I never lost any real weight, just maintained where I was, and that was okay with me. The longer you go without eating, the easier and more addictive it becomes. And easy is good. No real work involved in skipping lunch- no exercise needed. No strength, just weakness.

During the times throughout my life that I was not (not) bulimic or anorexic, I just worked out 2 plus hours a day- never for strength, just in hopes of being skinny.

It is too early to call myself a runner. I have been running daily for 8 or so days, starting with 1 mile, then 2 and now 3- shortening my time a little everyday. I wake up looking forward to pushing myself in a good way. A way that means meeting a goal, just for the sake of meeting it. I don't hit the "calories burned" button on the
treadmill, I just smile knowing I did it again today. It doesn't matter if I lose a pound, that is the last thing on my mind as my feet and heart pound, and sweat beads slip from my face to my arms. I am not thinking about whether I will or will not eat lunch, and what it will consist of while music blares in my ears and I push through all the moments all I can think of is giving up. Running is hard. Hard is good. There is no weakness, just strength.

I will run my first 5k July 17th, and I am so proud of myself.