I’d Rather Be Fast Than Skinny

I haven’t lost a pound since Libby was two weeks old.

There are two ways to lose weight: A) decreasing calories, or B) increasing activity.

While there are many women who claim breastfeeding helps them lose their baby weight quickly, I am not one of those women.  We have, thankfully, been blessed with a successful breastfeeding relationship, and I’m not going to put that at risk by cutting calories in order to lose weight.  So, option A: no, thanks.

And then there’s Option B.  I’m a generally active individual, so this seems like a good fit.  Except for one problem: I am personally against running for the purpose of weight loss.  I went on a nice long rant about it awhile back – you can read it here.  In short, I’d rather be fast than skinny.

I don’t think it’s much of a secret that this is not a “fitness” blog.  I’m not particularly passionate about physical fitness or healthy living.  These things just happen to gel nicely with what I AM passionate about: competition.

I run for one reason: to be faster.  As a kid, I wanted nothing more than to be faster than my dad.  In adolescence and early adulthood, I worked hard to be faster than as many people as possible. While those days are over, as an adult I aim to compete against A) my husband, who perfectly fits the definition of the casual runner, and B) other women in my age group at any given event.

This leaves me in a perplexing situation.  For the first time in my life, I actually have weight to lose.  Given my firm position on the issue, how can I reconcile my desire to get back into shape with my desire to lose the additional 15-or-so pounds that prevent me from wearing most of my pre-pregnancy clothes?

I don’t really know the answer, but I think it’s something close to just don’t worry about it.   Either the pounds come off, or they don’t.  Either the weight redistributes itself so my pants fit, or I have an excuse to go shopping before I go back to work next week.

I will keep doing my best to make my runs progressively increase in both length and pace, and let the chips fall where they will.  Even if those chips are falling into my mouth.  Because, quite honestly…I’m hungry.


About stillarunner

I used to run. Some days, I even ran fast. Then I got a job. And met a boy. And bought a house. And rescued a dog. And rescued another dog. And went back to school. And created human life. I might not run every day, or even every week. There’s a good possibility that I will never be fast again. But I’m still a runner.
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2 Responses to I’d Rather Be Fast Than Skinny

  1. Megan says:

    I still don’t know how it happened. I had 15 pounds that lingered until Drake was nearly 7 months old. Then…all of a sudden…it was gone. That and another 8 pounds that I’d gained after college. It wasn’t a change in diet, that is for sure. And I’m running, yes, but not the mileage I was pre-Drake! It’s a mystery.

  2. I’d say you’ve already figured out the answer. I’m going to have to agree with the “just don’t worry about it” approach. Truly. I didn’t do anything special to “loose weight” after my girls were born, and I gained 40 pounds with Sierra (eep!). I breastfed them both, I ran when I could. I didn’t overdo on eating badly, but I also didn’t turn down a bowl of ice cream. Everyone is different, of course, but I guess it took me about 4 or 5 months to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight following my “there is no plan” approach.

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