The F word

To the man that called me fat (and all of his predecessors):
thank you.

For making me run a little farther
a little harder
til I crossed the marathon finish line
for helping me wake up at 6am to
run before work
for teaching me the difference between
kindness and bullies.

but
I am tired
of apologising
for taking up extra space.

I am sick
of analysing every cm of my skin
praying for a number on a machine to decrease.

I am done
hating my softness
in a world full of hard.

I officially give up
trying to perfect
what I should already see as perfection.

So thank you
critics, bullies and arseholes
for showing me
that in the face of hate
and cruelty
the answer is always
Love.

Running Away from Cancer

I have reached a dead end. Late nights, early mornings, too much coffee, not enough sleep. My light is faltering. I'm neglecting myself, pushing my mind to the limit, to distract myself from the reality.

My Dad has cancer. He's very unwell, and my life is changing in a way that I am struggling to comprehend. My Mum has only just recovered from cancer herself, and I really struggled during that time.

My health and fitness has declined, along with my mental health. It's time for me to slowly take back the reins of my own life, and empower myself.

Me being me, I like to challenge myself in the most ridiculous ways possible. So... I have decided to run the London marathon.

With the inspiration from my parents illness, and the urge to better myself, I feel that this challenge will push my every limit, and give me the answers that I need. At present, I'm looking for answers in places that will never give me any. I'm abusing myself with excess.

Time to heal.