Saturday, January 23, 2010

I Miss my Red Jacket

I watched a guy running down the street this morning in 35 degree weather and felt a pang of jealousy.  I miss running.  I never thought I would say that, in fact when I started running I hated it.  It was hard, I couldn't breathe after a block and I would sweat like I was in a sauna.

Over time I embraced it because it was working.  Very little scorches calories like a run.  Five or six days a week I would tie my shoes, put on my head phones and scoot out the door.  A good walk to warm up and then go.  Most days it was just three or so miles, but I was up to running 6 or 7 miles on my long days before the doctor told me to stop. 

Running not only slimmed me down, but it freed me.  When you are concentrating on breathing and watching out for pot holes, it is terribly hard to worry about work or a relationship that is wonky.  Instead you become freer and when the endorphins kick in, you fly.  By the end you are drenched in sweat, breathing heavily and have a smile on your face.

On Saturdays I would get up extra early, run to get to work, do what I needed to do and then run to the Downtown Farmers Market and meet Lori and then run home.  It was cool most mornings, so I would wear my red jacket.

My red jacket was the first thing I ever bought in a size large.  It was fitted and slimming with white piping and when I would sweat, it would wick the water away.  It protected me from light rain and too much sun and was a constant companion one I bought it.  I had splurged and spent $30, it was a great investment.  Not only was it a tool for exercise, but it fed my sorely lacking self-esteem - I was wearing a size large!

The red jacket went missing in the fall of 2008.  It has become a symbol of everything that slowly fell apart that fall - knee injury, lung infection, cancer scare, weight gain.  The jacket was so important to me that when a guy I was dating finally called after three weeks of being MIA to break off our relationship and asked me if I wanted any of my stuff back, I only asked if he had my jacket.  He wasn't important, but the jacket and all it meant to me was.

I still get upset thinking about the red jacket.  It almost hurts sometimes.  Mainly because it symbolizes so much - a time when I put myself first, when I cared about me - and now, like the jacket, that has been lost and I am having trouble finding it again.

I need a new red jacket - a new way to put me first.  I am hoping blogging again and writing for Intuition will help me find it.

Yours in health,


  1. Just read the first-ever Intuition, your article and your blog. Your picture in the magazine is obviously a past pic since you state you are back to 260 pounds.
    On your blog, you harp about a $30 red jacket that you “splurged for” which actually sounds quite hideous – get over it! You go on to blame all of your weight and eating habits/problems on your surgery, "cancer scare", a past failed relationship, etc. All you are doing in your article and blog is inviting people to join you in your own little pity party.
    You should have submitted a current picture rather than the one of an obviously former self. Not only are you in denial but more importantly, you are misrepresenting yourself. Sorry for being brutally honest, but I've been there, done that. If you really want to help others as well as yourself, suck it up, grow a pair and deal with reality.
    It's a new year; stop making excuses. For the love of Pete, you had a cancer “scare,” not cancer!
    Begin to hold yourself accountable and take responsibility for all that you do. If the rest of mankind would take the time to incorporate these few and simple beliefs, imagine how much better the world would be? Please, let’s lead by example.

  2. I appreciate your venting. That's the thing I love about this country, everyone is welcome to their opinion.

    I am not now, nor have I ever, asked for pity. I am telling my story. No one has an upbeat life all of the time, I am sure that includes you. If my honesty is off-putting I encourage you to find something that is more fitting your taste.

    Regards, Kate