Guest Blogger: Love Notes from the Fickle Monster, Part 7

My gym teachers used to pass out Popsicle sticks for every lap completed. Once a kid collected four sticks, marking a mile, he or she could lounge around and watch the little chunks struggle to finish.


I was a little chunk. I never wanted to run, jog, or move really. I would have much rather eaten a Popsicle than collected the sticks. Frequently, I'd try to break the stick and hold the pieces so one became two and two became four. I was a chunky little cheater, and I never wanted to run. My feet were (and still are) outrageously flat, and I was convinced that was giving me knee and joint issues as a seven year old. Even as a little girl, I was terribly embarrassed by my earth-shakin' thighs, certain the earth would quake if I picked up my pace. I tiptoed around, fearful, self conscious, fat.

And then, I trained for and finished a half marathon.



As I'm crossing the finish line, some guy was yelling things about "leaving it all on the table" and having "no regrets." He made me laugh!

Elementary Equivalent: 52.1 Popsicle sticks

I LOVED the Shamrock Half Marathon. I started with some folks I didn't know and finished with some folks I didn't know. I ate nerves, excitement, and Fiber One for breakfast. My dad dropped me off, and I headed to the corrals with thousands of other people. Everyone was amped, and the process was smooth. Honestly, the run was fun. The miles mounted, and I kept going until I heard my dad yelling my name as I crossed the finish line. The finish line! All I could think of was signing up for the next race, weird. Really weird for me, lest we forget my early childhood chunk status. 

When you run this kind of race, you get showered with cool junk at the finish line like a shirt, hat, FOOD, and an awesome medal.



My "HECK YES, I feel like a champ" Face (they didn't give me this at the finish line. I made it myself.)



I'd like you to meet my shiny little medal!

I was probably MOST excited about this FREE HAT!

These are the legs of a champ.. and some Sauconies which were important too.

Collecting my medal and shirt and hat at the end was exciting but something else happened.

On Sunday, I broke something inside of myself. I broke the nasty, terrible lie little girls tell themselves when they are standing on a dusty track holding Popsicle sticks. The lie that screams at little girls when they are inching to the edge of a pool in a tankini, clutching a terry cloth towel. The lie the beckons little girls to find love at the bottom of a box or from the touch of a boy. The lie that whispers, "You're too fat already. Quit now, you're not worth it." Running a half marathon was simply the physical representation of a very emotional and spiritual movement in my person. I ran 13.1 miles in 2 hours and 18 minutes, but what I really did was release the little girl inside of me to believe.

Let me tell you something, if you are still lying to the little girl inside of you, STOP IT. If you are allowing other people to lie to her, STOP THEM. We are far more than chunky little cheaters, choosing to cautiously walk through life like we're going to break things because we believe we are fat or ugly or stupid or worthless. We are far more than the names we were called, the names we are called, the names we call ourselves.

So, let's do some laps
Let's collect our sticks and hold them proudly.

Let's not compare but congratulate, love, and learn.

Let's quit perpetuating the lies.

Let's struggle and laugh and cry.

Let's cross some finish lines and sign up for more races.

Let's watch God move in our midst, warm us up, and push us forward.

Shall we?

I dare us.



P.S. THANK YOU for all of the love and support!

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Cora Ruth Flottman is the best friend, college room8 and a complete inspiration to Sheila. 

She is an actress, teacher, christian, lover of the written word and men who can change the tires on a car.

She blogs here every Friday.