Today we are introducing a new bi-monthly column: Room on the Road by Denise Dollar, who you might know as the founder of Heart Strides. She is in the process, as many of us are, of struggling with body issues as she finds her way back to running.

denise dollar

“Just start where you’re at.” Dimity’s instructions echo in my head. Sure, write about where I’m at. Easy enough, but where the hell am I?

Crossing the parking lot, I yell back to her, “How many words?” Picking up on my surge of anxiety and excitement, she says, “Just introduce yourself. Start there.” Simple enough.

You would think this would be the easy part. It’s not. I’m not sure that I know who I am right now. I know who I’ve been, and who I want to be. Right in this moment though? I don’t know who I am.

Who I was in Wisconsin, where I lived for 15+ years: The mom of two kids, the oldest having been diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at the age of three, and later on the Autism Spectrum. I quickly and unknowingly, fell into a pattern of ignoring my own health needs. Self-care was not on my radar. Never crossed my mind.

Who I was in Boulder, where we moved in 2011: I didn’t intend on running when we moved here, but about two months after our move I saw a photo of myself on the trail with my daughter and was surprised by what I saw. I started walking and joined Weight Watchers for the first time and found success. After a friend mentioned that running would boost my weight loss, I didn’t hesitate. I hit the trail like Boulder’s new running ambassador.

I trained for my first half with passion, and I admit, there was a little part of me that stuck my tongue out at the running world. Look! I can be a runner too! Running made me feel strong. Being on the trail gave me a freedom that I hadn’t felt in a long time and I was hooked.

Where I am now (besides still living in Boulder): Not quite back where I was before I started running, but in a familiar, uncomfortable spot. I’ve gained back some of my ‘lost’ weight, and my running has turned into a mixed bag of intervals, short runs and long walks. I had some health issues last November that kept me off the trails and my treadmill until this February, but by then I had lost touch with that passionate, excited runner I had once become.

Where I am today: Struggling. There, I said it. I’m struggling like never before. I’m also frustrated, irritated, a little mad, and a little beside myself.

The minute I get into my car my head is swirling with ideas. I consider pulling over and taking notes. Weight gain, weight loss, body image, running, not running, moving, not moving… eating, not eating, healthy, not healthy, thin, fat, strong, weak. My head starts to hurt.

Yeah, just start where I’m at, I think to myself.

I’m about 20 minutes away from my exit when I start thinking about eating lunch. With a few options along the way, I’m surprised that I want to go to McDonald’s. For the next 15 minutes—yes, a long 15 minutes—I stress about going, not going, fries, no fries, big mac, and no big mac. I’m craving it, but it’s not good for me, but if I eat it then I won’t crave it, but I’ll eat it and then I’ll be mad at myself, but if I don’t eat it I’ll feel like I’m shaming myself. An internal conversation I’m all too familiar with.

Welcome to my world.

I swerve into the right lane, the lane that will take me there. I’m tempted to drive past the entrance; by then my internal battle has blown up to epic proportions and it just feels ridiculous to me.

I turn the corner, pull into the parking lot and see one of the workers outside smoking a cigarette. That’s it, I can’t eat here, I think to myself. But my car ends up in the drive-thru line. I’m waiting for the person ahead of me to finish ordering. I think about how the food will taste. I think about how it’s been about a year since I’ve eaten at a McDonald’s, and wonder why now? What am I really craving? I think about how crappy I’m going to feel after I eat. I pull out of the line. I think about how good it might taste, that I shouldn’t deprive myself.

For god sake, Denise, it’s just a burger. But we all know it’s really not.

I don’t really want that burger. I don’t want a hug or a ‘you can do it’ either.

I just want the courage to be who I am right now, to love the body I’m in, to meet myself exactly where I am.

I keep driving.

This is where I’m at.