When I started to think about getting my life together almost two January’s ago, I started first with setting goals. One of my goals was to run a 5K. I chose something that I felt would be more challenging, the Muddy Buddy, because I would have to train for it, in a different way, getting my entire body into shape. I was closer to 300 pounds than I’d care to admit to anyone, my heart was skipping beats and my body ached. However, signing up for that first event was my first step on a continued path towards living a healthier life.
Last night a very dear old friend posted something to her facebook page and I instantly got defensive. Defensive over nothing that made any difference to me what so ever. She made the joke that she signed up for a lowly 5k. She makes fun of people who do “Tough Mudders” and other types of mud races. It must not just be on social media that she makes fun, because others share articles for her to see. Making fun of the lowly 5k or fun run runners must be a part of who she is.
Of course I see people make fun of people who exercise all the time. I see people make fun of fat people all the time. I’ve learned to ignore them, because they just haven’t gotten here yet. It’s different this time. She is a fitness instructor and someone I look up to. She is one of the elite that I am so in awe of, one of the few who has qualified for and finished many marathons.
I am also in awe of anyone who finishes a 5k. And a mud run. And a 10 miler. And a half marathon. Heck, I’m in awe of the people who, like me, are or were morbidly obese and got up off of the couch for the first time and walked to their mailbox, and then the next day walked a little further, and again and again until they could walk a mile, then run a mile.
You can not judge anyone for where they are on their journey. It is not a moment of weakness to lower yourself to do a 5k, it is a privilege of the few who are able to run.