Fit vs. Fiction's Blog

When an obsession for “fitness” takes an ugly turn

It’s midnight on Sunday. The streets are quiet. I see a few people leaving a closing restaurant and a couple of cars heading home. I can’t quite decide if the mood is peaceful or creepy. I’ve been walking for 20 minutes and still have another 40 to go before I get there. “There” being the gym. The only 24 hour gym in the neighborhood. Once there, my plan is to do an hour of cardio activity, followed by an hour of strength training. I’m not looking forward to it. I’d much rather be in bed, sound asleep, like the rest of the civilized world, but I feel compelled. Earlier in the evening, I had let my emotions get the best of me..again. I can’t remember what did it this time, but whatever it was, sent me right to the kitchen to eat my feelings away. So here I am, alone, tired, sad and very vulnerable. Not the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done. In fact, if one of my friends was doing this, I’d give her a stern lecture about what a ridiculous and dangerous move it was. But of course, it wasn’t a friend, it was me and I’m not half as concerned for my own well being.

When I walk through the doors at 1am, I could see the look of confusion on the face of the guy at the front desk who did not expect to see another human being for at least a few more hours. I lie and tell him I can’t sleep then hop on an elliptical machine in a desperate attempt to repent for my food sins. My stomach is sore and I’m feeling very nauseous; similar to how you might feel while attempting to run a marathon right after gorging on Christmas dinner.  I continue on to my strength training, pausing every couple of minutes to look at myself in the mirror in disgust, cry a little and contemplate leaving. I manage to get through 2 straight hours of self-loathing and begin the journey home..this time, the roads are completely silent. Restaurants have long closed, late night stragglers at home in their beds. The mood now is definitely creepy. It’s 3am, I’m tired and know that I have a long walk ahead of me. I want to be home with my family, but know that the extra calorie burning can only do me good. Besides, I have no choice, I can’t call anyone to pick me up and the busses have stopped running. I am acutely aware of everything around me, every leaf that falls or animal scurrying by. I can feel myself starting to panic. I imagine all these horrible scenarios that have me being raped and beaten or killed by some crazed maniac and my husband having to explain to people why I was walking alone at 3am. I imagine him having to tell my kids that Mommy isn’t coming home; she was attacked on her way home from the gym. The shame I feel is overwhelming. When I finally reach my back door, I put my key in the lock and actually Thank God out loud for getting me home safely, although I’m not sure I’m deserving. I crawl into bed and start to cry. My husband wakes slightly and asks me what time it is. I tell him it’s 4:30am. He shakes his head and grunts disapprovingly. I feel like a fool. Then I reach for my clock and set the alarm for 6am. That should give me just enough time for a little cardio work before the kids get up for school.



One Response to 'When an obsession for “fitness” takes an ugly turn'

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  1. myiejourney said,

    Reblogged this on My Intuitive Eating Journey.

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