Okay, first off, I need to say this: you voluntarily run speedwork on Mondays. That alone makes you part superhero, part cautionary tale. While most of us are still debating whether coffee counts as breakfast, you’re out there chasing enlightenment in sneakers.
You write about pain and healing like someone who’s seen both sides of the finish line — the collapse and the comeback. You don’t need medals; you’ve already got something better: self-awareness and quads of steel.
And then that line — “I’ve figured out the secret to speed: eating.” Ma’am, that’s not a punchline, that’s scripture. If that line doesn’t end up embroidered on a Lululemon hoodie or whispered in therapy groups across America, there’s no justice.
Now, as someone who has loved and lost someone to anorexia, I want to say this — platonically, respectfully, but with my entire chest — you are beautiful on the inside. Seriously. Nourish that. You’re worth every ounce of care you give yourself. You’ve earned every single meal, every laugh, every mile that isn’t powered by punishment.
And honestly, you are on the up and up. You’re redefining what strength looks like — not the hollow, calorie-counting kind, but the full-bodied, well-fed, joyful kind. You’ve turned healing into resistance, and resistance into art.
So please, keep feeding yourself — literally and figuratively. The world needs you strong, alive, and slightly smug about how fast you can still run.
I legitimately cannot think of a better gift for me to receive this morning than your words. Seriously. Also, I can’t tell you how much I LOVE the idea of embrodering Eat! on to every stupid pair of Lululemon pants!
And damn, can I just say, that you for all you said with your entire chest. It always helps to be reminded that caring for myself is not something I need to earn, it is something I deserve. And it is something we all deserve.
While I do feel like I am very much on the up and up, I am always cautious about implying I’ve reached the finish line, because the only finish line this journey has is the big ended. That being said, I do want to celebrate my gains (literal and figurative I suppose), my health and my ability to continue being honest. This of course means always acknowedging that I still struggle, just like we all do, it is part of being human. I used to try so hard to hide my struggle, and now I see that the more I talk about it (with the right people) the more connected my relationships become.
Also, your last line….slighly smug. Oh man, I just love it. I hope you recognize your own gift because I sure do.
This response does not remotely describe how much impact your words had on me this morning, but I had to at least to try.
Thank you for being here with me, and for allowing me to witness your work as well. I’m truly and deeply grateful.
Often our hardest battles are the ones that are waged within ourselves. You being vulnerable about your struggles is such a powerful place of healing and growth. I’m so proud of you for your journey.
I feel that and I am so grateful for it. Funny how connected and meaningful a growing relationship on the internet can feel. What a weird and wonderful place this is….
Who knew that making peace with food and your body, and learning to feed yourself with trust and kindness, could bring both freedom and speed? This is such a beautiful testament to the power of nourishment — physical, emotional, and relational. The strength that comes from self-honesty and connection shines through every line — a gorgeous reflection of healing in motion.
Loved this! I’m turning 39 soon and trying to get into weight lifting. I do lots of spinning, but I hate lifting. After reading your work, I’m wondering if my history of disordered eating plays a role in this. Maybe I’m subconsciously trying to stay as small as possible? Food for thought—no pun intended!
That is food for thought…. I've actually started weightlifting in the last eight months myself. I also hate it, but my 18-year-old is very into it so I have a good coach and good company. And I find myself surprised by how much I feel good about getting strong. Also, my goal is basically to age well instead of changed my appearance, and that is a helpful motivator.
Thank you for sharing this so openly. I’m really struck by the courage it takes to show up—not just on the track, but in your life—with the honesty and vulnerability you describe. There’s something powerful in the way you lay bare your struggle, your compulsion, and your journey toward nourishing yourself, both physically and emotionally. What resonates most is the trust you place in your friend— letting her see the parts of yourself that were once hidden—and the quiet bravery it takes to let someone witness that. Her noticing, her recognition of the changes in you, feels like a beautiful mirror for the work you’ve been doing in private for so long.
I also have to chuckle a little at the running part—speedwork at ungodly hours sounds like pure torture, yet somehow also a perfect metaphor for showing up for yourself even when it’s hard. This piece is a reminder that healing doesn’t happen alone; it happens in connection, in honesty, and in the gentle acknowledgment of our own growth. I loved reading about how feeding yourself, both literally and metaphorically, has led to freedom and strength. It’s tender, inspiring, real. Thank you for sharing
Thank you again for your support. And for highlighting what is underneath this piece, that healing happens in connection. We have to heal ourselves, but we can't do it alone.
Sounds like you have an excellent personal goal list! Yes, I have worked hard to shift to gratitude and truly feeling grateful for all my healthy body can do. And trying to keep it that way. Thank you for your continued support:)
This is beautiful. As someone in the depths of an eating disorder (albeit one where I binge far more than I restrict), I really needed to hear this. I’m so glad that you can enjoy this beautiful freedom, and that you have such a lovely friend supporting you ❤️
I am sorry for your own struggles with your body and with food, such a terrible struggle to have. But also, eventually it can lead to hard fought perspective and appreciation for all that your body can do. Keep working to befriend the part of yourself that is struggling, I truly believe that is the key. And yes, I am so grateful for the relationships I have that sustan me. They are just another key.
Okay, first off, I need to say this: you voluntarily run speedwork on Mondays. That alone makes you part superhero, part cautionary tale. While most of us are still debating whether coffee counts as breakfast, you’re out there chasing enlightenment in sneakers.
You write about pain and healing like someone who’s seen both sides of the finish line — the collapse and the comeback. You don’t need medals; you’ve already got something better: self-awareness and quads of steel.
And then that line — “I’ve figured out the secret to speed: eating.” Ma’am, that’s not a punchline, that’s scripture. If that line doesn’t end up embroidered on a Lululemon hoodie or whispered in therapy groups across America, there’s no justice.
Now, as someone who has loved and lost someone to anorexia, I want to say this — platonically, respectfully, but with my entire chest — you are beautiful on the inside. Seriously. Nourish that. You’re worth every ounce of care you give yourself. You’ve earned every single meal, every laugh, every mile that isn’t powered by punishment.
And honestly, you are on the up and up. You’re redefining what strength looks like — not the hollow, calorie-counting kind, but the full-bodied, well-fed, joyful kind. You’ve turned healing into resistance, and resistance into art.
So please, keep feeding yourself — literally and figuratively. The world needs you strong, alive, and slightly smug about how fast you can still run.
I legitimately cannot think of a better gift for me to receive this morning than your words. Seriously. Also, I can’t tell you how much I LOVE the idea of embrodering Eat! on to every stupid pair of Lululemon pants!
And damn, can I just say, that you for all you said with your entire chest. It always helps to be reminded that caring for myself is not something I need to earn, it is something I deserve. And it is something we all deserve.
While I do feel like I am very much on the up and up, I am always cautious about implying I’ve reached the finish line, because the only finish line this journey has is the big ended. That being said, I do want to celebrate my gains (literal and figurative I suppose), my health and my ability to continue being honest. This of course means always acknowedging that I still struggle, just like we all do, it is part of being human. I used to try so hard to hide my struggle, and now I see that the more I talk about it (with the right people) the more connected my relationships become.
Also, your last line….slighly smug. Oh man, I just love it. I hope you recognize your own gift because I sure do.
This response does not remotely describe how much impact your words had on me this morning, but I had to at least to try.
Thank you for being here with me, and for allowing me to witness your work as well. I’m truly and deeply grateful.
There is no finish line. Just measurably better, stronger…and in your case, faster.
That’s right! And the goal is too keep getting better (though I am ok with slowing down). Not in a straight line of course, but still…
Never linear, friend!
Often our hardest battles are the ones that are waged within ourselves. You being vulnerable about your struggles is such a powerful place of healing and growth. I’m so proud of you for your journey.
I feel that and I am so grateful for it. Funny how connected and meaningful a growing relationship on the internet can feel. What a weird and wonderful place this is….
Who knew that making peace with food and your body, and learning to feed yourself with trust and kindness, could bring both freedom and speed? This is such a beautiful testament to the power of nourishment — physical, emotional, and relational. The strength that comes from self-honesty and connection shines through every line — a gorgeous reflection of healing in motion.
Ummm, Elizabeth, wow. Thank you. I have to imagine you know how much that means coming from you.
Loved this! I’m turning 39 soon and trying to get into weight lifting. I do lots of spinning, but I hate lifting. After reading your work, I’m wondering if my history of disordered eating plays a role in this. Maybe I’m subconsciously trying to stay as small as possible? Food for thought—no pun intended!
Thanks for sharing!
That is food for thought…. I've actually started weightlifting in the last eight months myself. I also hate it, but my 18-year-old is very into it so I have a good coach and good company. And I find myself surprised by how much I feel good about getting strong. Also, my goal is basically to age well instead of changed my appearance, and that is a helpful motivator.
That’s a great framing. I’m gonna steal that.
I'd be honored:)
Thank you for sharing this so openly. I’m really struck by the courage it takes to show up—not just on the track, but in your life—with the honesty and vulnerability you describe. There’s something powerful in the way you lay bare your struggle, your compulsion, and your journey toward nourishing yourself, both physically and emotionally. What resonates most is the trust you place in your friend— letting her see the parts of yourself that were once hidden—and the quiet bravery it takes to let someone witness that. Her noticing, her recognition of the changes in you, feels like a beautiful mirror for the work you’ve been doing in private for so long.
I also have to chuckle a little at the running part—speedwork at ungodly hours sounds like pure torture, yet somehow also a perfect metaphor for showing up for yourself even when it’s hard. This piece is a reminder that healing doesn’t happen alone; it happens in connection, in honesty, and in the gentle acknowledgment of our own growth. I loved reading about how feeding yourself, both literally and metaphorically, has led to freedom and strength. It’s tender, inspiring, real. Thank you for sharing
Thank you again for your support. And for highlighting what is underneath this piece, that healing happens in connection. We have to heal ourselves, but we can't do it alone.
While it may be the case
That no more interest in the race
Time keeps rolling on
Are your hips and knees still strong?
(hint hint :-))
Ha! So far so good:)
Excellent! Glad that you are joining and honoring your body rather than fighting it! Befriending your body is wise. It will thank you.
We only get one body. Cherishing it is at the top of my personal goal list.
And “smiles per mile”. Always that, for me.
You are doing hard work. Bravo!
Sounds like you have an excellent personal goal list! Yes, I have worked hard to shift to gratitude and truly feeling grateful for all my healthy body can do. And trying to keep it that way. Thank you for your continued support:)
This is beautiful. As someone in the depths of an eating disorder (albeit one where I binge far more than I restrict), I really needed to hear this. I’m so glad that you can enjoy this beautiful freedom, and that you have such a lovely friend supporting you ❤️
I am sorry for your own struggles with your body and with food, such a terrible struggle to have. But also, eventually it can lead to hard fought perspective and appreciation for all that your body can do. Keep working to befriend the part of yourself that is struggling, I truly believe that is the key. And yes, I am so grateful for the relationships I have that sustan me. They are just another key.
I really love this response, thank you so much for your insight ❤️