So I'm realizing how blind I have been. I'm seeing pictures of myself taken earlier this year. I have a hard time accepting that this fat woman in the picture is me, and yet it looks suspiciously like a ripe pregnant me of years ago. Yikes, and ouch. So I look away from the picture, look back, and think, "Why didn't someone just shoot me?! Oh yeah, they did. Just with a slightly more compassionate weapon, the camera." So I'm going for a walk today.
When I was in elementary school P.E., I had this awesome coach. He taught us about all kinds of health and nutrition and exercise and everything. He told us a story one day that I have never forgotten. It was about a man who was so depressed that he had decided to end his life. Not being interested much in pain, he chose to kill himself by wearing himself out. So he ran. He was in very bad shape, so expected to run until he collapsed, and that would be the end of him. So he ran, and collapsed, and woke up. Every day for a while, he tried again to wear himself out by running to exhaustion, but every time that he did, he just ran a little bit farther, and he actually started feeling better. So he became healthier and happier. Now that I think about it, I wonder if that story was true, and if so, if it was about someone my coach knew personally . . .