STRONG. 

THAT IS A WORD I NEVER WOULD HAVE THOUGHT I’D BE USING TO DESCRIBE MYSELF.

For the majority of my life, I hated everything about me but most especially hated my body. I felt my body was never “good enough” for anything.  I always felt like I had to work harder at everything I did so that my large body was accepted into the space it was trying to take up.  I once was told that people will critique me harder because I exist in a larger body.  I was (and still am) a dancer, and was once told that people would try to say that I didn’t deserve to be up on stage because I wasn’t “good enough”, even if I was doing as well if not better than others.  I needed to do everything better, just so I could prove I belonged in the same space as everyone else, simply because I was larger.  I spent many years trying to shrink myself, physically and mentally.  Take up as little space as possible. It was all I knew.

Hate my body. Diet. Hate my body. Lose weight. Hate my body. Restrict my food. Hate my body.  Binge on food. Hate my body. Gain weight. Hate my body. Look in the mirror. Hate my body. See pictures and videos. Hate my body. Repeat again and again.

From a young age, I remember looking in the mirror and truly hating what I saw.  As young as I was, I shouldn’t have known to hate my body for all it was and wasn’t, but I did. I spent so many years of my life trying to lose weight so that I would finally accept my body.  I didn’t accept my body at any size.  I always felt I needed to change my body in order to be accepted for who I was.

I remember conversations around me in high school and people were talking about how 200/300 pounds was gigantic, disgusting, etc. etc.  My then 200 ish pound body knew it wasnt welcome in that space. 

Frequently I told myself I wasn’t capable of doing things, because of the size of my body.  And I believed the lies I was telling myself.  The truly horrible, awful lies I told myself. I didn’t believe in myself.  At all.

In college, after a retreat I went on, I started to believe I was enough just as I was.  I started the process of loving me, all of me. Looking in the mirror and not hating everything I saw.  It wasn’t always easy.  And I had so many days, months, years, where I still looked in the mirror and only saw my flaws.  Saw my body for all it wasn’t, not always seeing my body for what it was. (Which FYI, had always been amazing, but I never saw that.)

A few years later a friend and I went on a run together.  My first run ever.  It felt nice to run, but I wasn’t sure I could do it.  I was bad at it.  It was hard. But I kept going.  Then about a year later, I did my first 5k.  It was brutal, but I was hooked.  A few months later I was getting ready for my first half marathon.  I was with some friends on a retreat and one friend wrote on my arm, “No one can tell me I can’t” and another friend wrote on my other arm, “Nothing shall be impossible unto you”.  It was during that weekend that I realized that no one, including myself, could tell me I “can’t” do anything.  I embraced that from then on with my running and started using the phrase “I can and I will” for my running.  I started believing in me.  And believing all that this body was/is capable of.

AFTER MY FIRST HALF, I WAS TRULY HOOKED ON THE FEELING OF SEEING JUST WHAT MY BODY COULD DO. 

I was amazed that my body was able to carry me for 13.1 miles over 3.5 hours. I started to realize that my body was capable of so much more than I ever imagined.

But like anything else, the doubts started to creep back in.  I would tell myself that I wasn’t good enough.  That my body was too large.  I needed to lose weight.  Etc.

But I kept running.  And kept reminding myself what I could do.  I started to call myself a runner, which felt so foreign.  People that look like me aren’t “runners”, they just aren’t. Or at least that’s what I thought.  People would even look at me and say, “You’re a runner?!”, shocked that someone my size would be running, and running half marathons at that.

Through running, I started to change the narrative that I was telling myself. I was no longer telling myself I wasn't good enough. I was telling myself I was enough. I was telling myself my body was doing amazing things. My body was able to do things I never thought possible. But what I was also realizing was that what I was telling myself was just as, if not more, important than what my body was doing, and way more important than what my body looked like while doing it. Changing the way I talked to myself helped me to change my relationship with my body.

Even though I was talking to myself differently, I still wanted to keep my body covered up.  Having longer pants and longer shirts on were like security blankets to me.  They felt safe.  They felt comfortable. 

Prior to 2020, I had only run in a tank top twice and was sooooo self-conscious the whole time.  I remember in January 2020 having a discussion about Sports Bra Squad Day with a friend and I distinctly remember saying, “I don’t think I can bring myself to run in a sports bra.  But maybe I’d agree to run in a tank top because that’s far enough out of my comfort zone”.

But what I didn’t realize had started to happen was that I was being told I was strong. 

That I was badass. That I was amazing. That I was inspiring. Etc.  I started telling myself these things as well.  I started to recognize that my runs felt strong.  That I felt strong.  I felt badass.  I felt amazing.  I truly started to believe what I was being told and what I was telling myself.  That my 300 lb. body wasn’t fat or ugly or disgusting.  My 300 lb. body was strong and badass and amazing and capable of sooooo much more than I ever imagined.

I set off to challenge myself in 2020 with my running.  I ended 2019 proud of myself for pushing through the end of the year running when I just wanted to give up on myself.  What can I say, old habits die hard. So, at the start of 2020 I committed to my training plan for half marathon training.  AND I started training for an indoor triathlon.  I started to truly feel strong, inside, and out.  Completing my first indoor triathlon helped me to see just how strong I was because I kept going even when it would have been easier to give up.  I also was surrounding myself with other strong, badass, encouraging, supportive women.  These ladies, Badass Lady Gang NEPA, really helped me to see just how much strength I possess and were quick to remind me when I forgot.

Late winter I started doing some spring/summer running shopping and started buying tank tops and shorts.  This was going to be my first year really running in the heat, and there w.as no way I would be able to wear capris and t-shirts all summer. The first time I went running in a tank top. I was terrified. Would people say I didn’t deserve to be wearing a tank top? Am I too fat to be running? Am I too fat to be wearing a tank top?  Is my bra showing?  Is my underarm fat showing? Etc. 

But it was too dang hot out that day for short sleeves, and guess what? Not one person said anything about how I looked that day.  My tank top kept riding up, and I said to myself, that if it kept up I was just going to roll it up over my stomach because it was so annoying.  Little did I know that this would be the start of what would very soon become sports bra squad for me.  I didn’t roll my tank up that day, but I was so annoyed with the tank that I got very close. 

The next time I ran in a tank, my bra was showing under my arms, my underarm fat was showing, heck I think some back fat was showing.  But I truly didn’t care anymore.  It was hot.  The tanks were keeping me decently cool, and that’s all that mattered.  I also wore shorts for the first time while running, and let me tell you they were a game-changer too!! I truly no longer cared about what other people thought of when they saw me running.  I was running for me and wearing what I felt comfortable, confident and strong in.

Fast forward a few weeks, I waited too long in the day to go run.  It was brutally hot and humid with threats of thunderstorms (so like 80 some degrees with 90% humidity).  I set out to do like 3 miles and hoped I’d beat the rain.  About half a mile into my run my stomach was already sweating so bad.  The feeling of my tank top on my sweaty stomach was just too much to handle.  So, I rolled my tank all the way up under my bra and continued on my run.  My stomach felt free.  I was currently outside, running, in the least amount of clothing I’ve ever worn in public.  A tank top rolled all the way up to my sports bra and a short running skirt.  I couldn’t believe I was doing it.

I had a slight moment of panic, because I was in a spot where a bunch of other people were passing me running, walking and biking. What would they think? and as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I thought “I truly don’t care one bit. It’s hot af out, and I feel comfortable right now with how I'm dressed.” It started raining lightly during my run and the strangest feeling was the feel of a light rain on my bare stomach. I had never felt that before. My stomach had literally never ever seen the light of day, let alone felt an afternoon rainstorm. It was freeing. It was exhilarating. It was strange. It was weird. but it was oh so wonderful. I was doing something I never ever thought I'd do, run in just a sports bra (well, tank top over my sports bra tucked up under my bra).

but it felt so good! I felt badass. I felt strong.

A few runs later, I did the same thing, took my tank and rolled it up under my sports bra in the middle of my run.  It felt so good and so much cooler on my body.  Then, a few days later I hadn’t even started my run and just rolled the tank up under my bra.  Thought that was going to be how I ran all summer, with a tank tucked up under the band for my bra.

But, a few days later I went for a run and thought it was a little bit cooler than it really was.  I got hot instantly the second I got out of my car.  I had a slightly thicker tank on and wouldn’t have been able to tuck it up under my bra.  I didn’t know what to do, but said screw it (I think I actually said this aloud) and threw my tank top back in my car.  The irony of which tank top I cast aside that day was not lost on me.  I had on my “This is what strength looks like” tank.  My last little security blanket was tossed aside and thrown in my car.  It was just me and my sports bra. No tank top to help me feel just a little bit better about it all. I was scared, but it felt AMAZING.  I thought tucking my tank top up under my bra was freeing, but just straight bra was a completely different feeling. 

Taking my shirt off took off the last bit of protective armor I had constructed around me and my body.

Taking my shirt off also took the last bit of insecurities about how my body looked with it.  Taking my shirt off brought with it the feeling of being proud of my amazing body.  Taking my shirt off gave me a different vision of myself. 

I spent so many years telling myself my body wasn’t good enough, wasn’t skinny enough, wasn’t enough as it was. but what i finally realized was that every part of me was enough just as I am.  And my body was not any less deserving of love and acceptance just because the scale tells me it’s a certain number.  My body continues to do amazing things.  And now when I look in the mirror I see a strong, amazing, badass woman.  And who would’ve thought shedding my shirt and running in my sports bra would help me to see all of that.  If I could tell my younger self just one thing it would be to remind her that she is so much stronger than she thinks.

 STRONG.

 A WORD I NEVER THOUGHT I’D USE TO DESCRIBE MYSELF, BUT YET, IT’S NOW THE WORD I USE MOST OFTEN TO DESCRIBE MYSELF.

THIS.  THIS IS WHAT STRENGTH LOOKS LIKE.

FOR MORE FROM MEG, CHECK HER OUT ON INSTAGRAM @MHANN2013