July 11, 2011

Runaway Bridesmaid

It's officially wedding season! My weekend was spent celebrating the upcoming nuptials of close friends and while I am absolutely thrilled to be a part of such joyous occasions, there is one part I could do without: the eating. It's this unwritten rule that there needs to be a smorgasbord of food at every bridal celebration. The bridesmaids snack on cheese and crackers while bonding, champagne is downed by the bottle, and don't forget about the cupcakes, heart shaped cookies, and three-tiered cake. If you're anything like me, you love to eat. And snacking is almost mindless. You don't realize the damage you've caused until you're heading home after an all-day bridal shower. You feel bloated, at best.

This morning, I didn't want to get out of bed. I felt like my body had turned into everything I had eaten throughout the weekend, all of which insisted on staying put and not running. But, common sense won out and I begrudgingly headed out for a four mile jog. I was expecting to hear my stomach grumbling over the sound of Akon in my ears, but much to my surprise, my stomach didn't even whisper. It felt great to run! I felt like I was working off everything I had allowed myself to indulge in, and the guilt literally melted away. I'm not saying that I can eat insurmountable amounts of frosting every weekend as long as I hit the pavement after, I'm just saying that it's all right to be indulgent. Because after all, this is the season of I do.
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Welcome to Head Over Heels!

Like many 20-something women, I woke up one morning exasperated. It seemed like every day I would find a new passion, a new dream, and get excited about yet another project, just to find that they would all crash and burn. I wanted something that I could control and that would be all mine.

Because our 20s are a time of exploration and discovery, it's very hard to find that path that directs us exactly to our dreams, especially because our dreams have the habit of evolving overnight. I had worn myself into a tizzy of exhaustion, disappointment, and an overwhelming sense of having no control over my own life. And that's when I went for that first run.

Two minutes later, I arrived back at my apartment steps, panting. As long and as torturous as those two minutes felt, they also gave me a sense of liberation, a feeling that had been severely lacking in my life. The next day, pathetically still sore, I again put on my sneakers. Three minutes, yes! This routine was repeated daily throughout the summer and now, I'm a half-marathoner! My ultimate goal, a marathon, still looms in the distant future, but the even bigger goal is one I can actively work on every day: learning to gain control over my own life and learning to fall in love with myself one step at a time.