Excess Baggage

I have always had a problem with my weight. I mean, as you know I have always been freakishly tall, I didn't have a growth spurt at 13 and was suddenly a foot taller than everyone else. I was always a foot taller than everyone else. I love being tall, I never tried to stoop to appear shorter or found it a hindrance in life, I very much embraced it. It meant I could be Goal Keeper in netball and just sort of stand there with my arms outstretched, I didn't need to jump because I was usually substantially taller than the GS or GA and so required minimal game playing and more human wall tactics.

My weight on the other hand has been a different issue. I was never a fat child (thankfully), mainly due to my parents fearing only child loneliness and enrolling me in every conceivable evening activity. Gradually as I got older and my desire to continue with gymnastics and Irish Dancing wained, the weight piled on. By the time I got to about 16 I was still not fat per se, thanks to my height, but I was certainly overweight. I became more and more conscious of it. At the age of 17 I was very aware of being overweight and the impact this was having on my life. I started to become aware of all the fad diets, I remember at one point ordering my father to buy baby food, thinking that if I just ate small jars of food instead of actual meals I would lose plenty of weight. I think that silliness lasted about two days, puree really is not a meal. This was my introduction to yo-yo dieting and this has haunted me over the last decade. At the age of 18 enough was enough and I dieted properly, exercised a lot and lost 4 stone. I loved it. I could wear proper clothes and not be self conscious in clubs and pubs with friends. I started university in Aberdeen and embraced my fresher life, I managed to maintain that weight for about a year and then before I knew it I was back where I started. The sloth like existence of a fresher combined with the calorific intake of the Student Union did nothing for my waist line. By 2nd year I was a "larger lady" again. It crept up on me really, before I knew it all my nice clothes didn't fit me anymore and people were encouraging me to buy larger clothes again and not draw attention to certain parts of my body. I mean I don't think I ever really looked in the mirror and saw a thin person but I certainly didn't see what other people saw. I would have less and less photographs taken of me and ultimately I became aware but unconscious as to how I looked. What people saw when I walked in to a room was not the person I saw in my mind.

The yo-yoing continued. I graduated from Aberdeen and the graduation photos taken from certain angles are manageable. I then moved on to Hong Kong and loved my time there. To the Asians I must have been of gigantic proportions, almost 6ft 2 and by no means the stats of a model, but it was fine! I was in one of my slimmer stages and living an exciting life so there are more photographs of this time, I remember I was very happy, so my body issues don't overwhelm my memories.

I returned to the UK and to Leeds. A particular dieting highlight of this time was when I decided to take the approach of simply not eating. I eat nothing for two days but drank an epsom salt concoction three times a day. This is really not to be recommended, I lost no weight, my friends thought I was mentally ill and by the end I just felt quite weak. It was supposed to last a week - it didn't. I met a great friend during my time in Leeds. I went to a fancy dress party (I HATE fancy dress) and didn't know anyone, but we bonded over the snacks that were being served and the disgracefulness that they were all low-fat. A friend who appreciates a full-fat snack, is a friend for life.

I then embarked on life not as a student but as an employed member of society. I was moving to London, on an esteemed training programme to pursue a career I was made for. As the realisation that this, in fact, was not the career I was made for dawned on me the weight piled on again. I would never admit to being a comfort eater, but as I look back over the last ten years my weight has gone with my moods, so I guess there isn't really any other explanation. Comfort eater just seems to easy, a copout explanation. During my time in London I started to fully appreciate the way my weight could hold me back. It is very easy to say don't judge a book by its cover, but we do, everyone does. Being overweight carries all kinds of connotations with it, when I walked in to a room I felt people looking at me, almost with sympathy. It is a social stigma. This was in 2007 and I have very few pictures of me between those years and now. The pictures I do have are held from the necessary over head angle, where I have just the one chin and the rest of my body can't be seen.

I continue in my search of the right career, the best life choices for me. I continue to move to different countries and try other career choices and I know in the end Ill get there. My life has been punctuated by these momentous occasions that have been perfect targets for me to lose half of my body weight. When I graduated (twice), when I moved to different countries (twice), when

I started a different career (twice) and yet none of them have resulted in the weight loss I wanted. On a superficial level, in my twenties I have never fitted in to clothes in Top Shop, which I would argue is as much their sizing policy as my weight problems but that is another story, and I am determined to fit in to Top Shop in my thirties. The marathon has been that momentous occasion where I have HAD to lose weight, I can't run it, or even walk it, if I am hideously out of shape. Maybe it was my cry for help, or my divine intervention but it is mine. Something I am doing for me, so that I can really try to leave the yo-yoing behind and embrace my new decade with one less piece of serious baggage to have to deal with - believe me there is plenty more, but one thing at a time...

Five weeks to go!!!!

The trainer change over

So, it has been an eternity since I updated this.  Apologies, Ditte!  Today it is six weeks until the big day.  I cannot believe it is so close.  As a good friend pointed out the other day, this time last year I was the girl telling everyone I was going to run a marathon.  Now I actually am running a marathon... in six weeks.  As I have said repeatedly, training in mountains is less than ideal.  It certainly doesn't make me want to "attack the hills"  as the books say, but it means I walk up them with purpose I suppose.  My training manual has been amazing, I have stuck to it religiously and am now doing 16 miles for my long runs, once a week.  I have to say, I don't run it all!!

My long runs take place on a Thursday, my day off.  I travel down to the sea front in Beirut at 6 am and start my morning sitting in the lobby of the Four Seasons drinking a lot of green tea.  The Corniche in Beirut wraps around the whole city so I run back and forth as the city wakes up.  More and more people join me, I am slogging away at about 8 miles by the time the pavement is most crowded.  It is heavy going and running still doesn't come naturally to me.  If I have prepared properly and eaten correctly I have enough energy to keep going, if not it really does make a huge difference.  It is quite amazing what the body can actually do, before I started this I was totally aware of my own capabilities. On Friday I had to resort to purchasing a sun visor, following last Thursday's run my face was a lovely shade of lobster and I am keen to avoid any more of that.

This week I bid farewell to my first pair of proper running trainers.  They say that they should last about 100 miles so I guess I have done over that.  Apparently I have very bony ankles and as a result the shoes ripped at the back and were cutting in to me.  I bought some new ones on a recent trip back to the UK and they are wonderful. I never appreciated such a simple piece of kit could make such a difference.  I mean, they would be significantly better if they had wings, or a little motor in them, but I can notice an improvement when I run.

With only six weeks to go now I realise I need to improve my strength, so have got myself a trainer to push me through these final weeks.  I am noticing great improvements in my body and my energy levels - so apart from the sheer exhaustion of running, I would reccomend marathon running to you all.  Perhaps Ill reevaluate this statement come April 23rd...