“Oh, you’re one of those. You’re crazy.”
Words that would normally be an insult. But maybe it was the New Year’s Eve spirit… or the liquid libations… or the fact that I plain and simple wear those words with pride!
This all came after I was told by some [drunk] guy at the New Year’s Eve party that there was no way I was going to eat that food. He didn’t come flat out and say it, but he was referring to how little I am. And yes, I looked tiny in my little black dress. There are pictures from that night that I dislike of myself because I’m so scrawny.
Luckily I had my wits about me and refrained from spitting something back like, “that’s what happens when you have an eating disorder.” Instead I said, “I ran five miles this morning, you bet I’m going to eat it.”
To which he replied with aforementioned comment.
Perhaps that’s why I don’t get drunk. I’d probably confess my eating disorder to anyone who would listen to me. (Like my roommate did to me one night when she was drunk. I still wonder if she remembers that.)
But it does take a little bit of crazy to be a marathon runner.
And that little bit of crazy is mental strength. It is the ability to follow through and to do what you set your mind to – no matter the mental, physical, or emotional obstacles.
I am a little crazy because I pull myself out of bed in the morning to go to the gym. I’m a little crazy because I will go out and run in Chicago along Lakeshore Drive with real-feel temperatures in the teens in running capris because I forgot long running pants.
I’m a little crazy because I’m willing to sacrifice pain and discomfort for a reward that is not material but is simply the satisfaction of knowing a little more about myself and proving to myself that I’m stronger than I thought I was.
So, yes, I’m crazy. And I’m proud to be crazy. I’m one of those.
P.S. But those people who do 100 milers – they are really crazy.
(Crazy may look a little like 898.19 miles in 2015. I know I can do more than that in 2016.)