Primal Stride

(New here? Welcome! Please read this article first.)

Dear Kari,

I’m not the crying type. I’m the resourceful guy everyone looks to for a solution when things fall apart. I didn’t expect to cry when I said goodbye to you.

Oh, but I did cry! I sobbed like a child. Nobody could tell I was crying though. It was dark, a heavy rain had been falling for the last few hours, and the streets had water running down them in little cigarette butt-infused rivers. I’d had a hard day and wanted to try running in the rain.

I’d never run in the rain before, Kari. Never, ever, had I stretched my legs through a downpour for more than a few steps. I’d never greeted the rain with any sort of rushing enthusiasm.

I wanted to know what it felt like.

But who was I kidding? Me running in the rain? I could barely run! I was still the chubby guy who’d spent too much time eating Taco Bell in front of a computer and not enough time outside to warrant such an aspiration. But something else inside me wanted to run.

The part of me that hates losing glared at the part of me that always expects to fail. It seemed to say, “It’s cool. I’ll keep him here while you go for a run.”

So I did.

It wasn’t a prize-winning run. It wasn’t something I’d make a YouTube video of and share with my friends. But it was a run. In fact, it was more than just a run. By the time I’d reached the end of my street I was already soaking wet. The rain poured down in burlap buckets and pounded puddles into glittering spikes of leaping water.

I was out of breath already. My wet t-shirt stuck to my skin and neatly defined the fat on my upper body. (I’m not really a boob guy and I’m most certainly not a guy who is proud to have boobs of his own.) I kept running.

The tears hit me just past the 1-mile point of my run. I was furious with myself for not taking better care of myself. I was frustrated by how long it was taking for me to build up strength and stamina. I was disgusted with myself for allowing my weight problem to take the blame for other areas of my life I was unhappy with. If all that doesn’t entirely make sense to you, I understand. It didn’t make sense to me at the time. That’s why I started crying.

As I said, I’m not the crying type. But there was catharsis to be had in pushing my body. I didn’t feel so lost when I had the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. I didn’t feel the need to talk as I gasped for air in the soggy darkness.

For a little while, it was okay to not have all the answers. It was okay to just be alone. It was okay to push my body to do things it had been meant to do from the beginning but I’d never tried. It was okay to run through some deep puddles, to feel stupid for having man boobs, and to wish I’d done all this years ago.

It wasn’t just okay for me to step on my bathroom scale the following morning and see that you’d left in the night. It was great.

If you’d like to support me in my journey, please subscribe to 100 pounds by RSS or email (it’s free) or take a moment to leave a comment. Thank you!