Posted in Being Vulnerable

Getting caught up

I don’t know if you know this about me, but I get caught up in goals. Especially when there are high stakes.

For example, I agreed to run a half marathon in September with my friend Emilie and my partner, Josh.

You may not think this sounds like high stakes, but I have a huge fear of letting people down so for me the pressure is on. But I like it. I actually need this kind of stress. This kind of fear. It moves me. It gets me fired up not to fail.

So I’ve been running. And of course I started off running every day, which led to a calf injury. There’s the all or nothing side of me showing, but I am proud to say I quickly recovered and learned from my mistakes. So now I run every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Also maybe Saturday if I’m up for it. I also realized I am getting addicted to running again like when I was in university. And it feels fucking great. The progress, the adrenaline, the competition, the community. It feels like home to me.

But will I get too caught up?

That’s the question.

And is being too caught up a bad thing?

Not necessarily.

What I’m trying to say is, I’m very excited to be back into running, but I’m also a little scared I’ll burn out.

I mean, that’s how athletes are born, right?

And I think that’s normal for extremists like me.

We’re constantly swinging in between this pendulum trying to find home. But scared that if we do find it, it won’t be enough. It’s a very up and down lifestyle. And it’s more exhausting for others to witness than to live through myself, trust me 😂 but I do want to be consistent now. That’s another thing with being extreme. I can lose my consistency and then be really hard on myself for doing so, which I have done many times in the past. Yet this time feels different. I was smart and actually joined a running group because I finally learned I don’t stay consistent unless I have accountability and that accountability can NOT come from my partner.

Trust me, accountability from a partner leads to very bad outcomes, at least for me. There’s just too many feelings involved and there’s no way for me to separate them so running group it is!

And this group is great. They’re women from all walks of life who just want a little accountability and a little friendship. No one cares about their time or distance. They just want to finish and I love that because it helps balance me out when I see how happy they are just showing up.

So maybe just maybe I won’t get too caught up this time.

Ha! Here’s to hoping.

Posted in Being Vulnerable


My weight, like most girls, has always been an area of concern.

Since I was ten, I’ve been comparing myself to magazine covers and celebrities on TV.

I started covering my stomach, wearing loose clothes and sucking in.

As I played volleyball and grew taller, the weight slowly dispersed but the mindset stayed the same.

Be thinner.

Be leaner.

You’re only lovable if you’re fit.

Then I hit 17 and started counting calories and running with my boyfriend.

He was anorexic too.

I got down to 135lbs and my mom and sister started to worry.

They asked me to stop.

But my dad praised me.

He always loved skinny girls.

But what really got me to stop was when my bf told me the guys in the locker room stopped talking about me.

Because I had lost my curves.

I was of no interest to them.

And that scared me.

Because I wanted to be lovable right?

So I stopped counting calories and started eating more sugar.

Some of the weight came back.

But then I became vegetarian.

Again my obsessive nature kicked in and I lost the weight.

It was always All or Nothing for me.

And ten years later I can say it still is.

But I’m trying to fight it.

But I’m scared.

I don’t want to end up like them.

My parents.

They’re both obese and have given up on life.

And I don’t want to end up like that.

So I’m constantly fighting.

Because I have been fat

And it’s not fun

And I have been super skinny

And it’s not fun either.

So I’m fighting for the balance

And it’s fucking hard.

But I’m here and I’m trying.