I approached it with dread more than anything. I knew what was going to be in it, and I knew it wasn't going to be pretty.
I clicked on the link and scrolled through the information. Yup, exactly what I thought it would be. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly.
I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I kept going and I got sad and angry and mad at myself.
And then I gave myself a mental slap in the face.
I was looking at race photos from a half marathon. 13.1 miles of sun and heat and running and all I could see were my fat rolls, and how terrible my chest looked, and how fat I was.
13.1 miles of putting one foot in front of the other. An accumulation of months of training through freezing cold and snow and being sick and trying to work runs in around raising toddlers. 13.1 miles of running, of going further than I have in a long time.
All this and all I could think was, "Why did I wear that outfit?"
Shut up, Inner Meg. Shut the hell up.
Those pictures were and ARE so much more than what I was reducing them to. They were pictures of a woman smiling, despite the heat. A woman kicking ass at a distance that less than two years earlier (and on a whole lot cooler day) nearly crushed her.
Those are pictures of a PR!
Those are pictures of me. And that lumpy belly I hate? Who cares? That lumpy belly made it across the finish line. Those fat rolls were there the entire 13.1 miles, jiggling along to some awesome tunes. Those fat rolls were dancing!
I ignored my inner negative demons and purchased a photo. It was worth the fifteen bucks for the download to thumb my nose at my own body image.
And here it is: