I haven’t taken two consecutive rest days in a while, but it seems that getting in the car and driving for hours soon after a sucky 12 mile run and spending the next day walking around in flip flops only to turn around and drive home again, was not very restful.  I woke exhausted, unable to fathom logging any miles.  Perhaps I’m getting old and losing my edge, or maybe I’m just sick to death of running.  Whatever the reason for my tiredness, I took another day off to focus on foam rolling, stretching and obsessing over a bunch of things- some marathon, others not so much, related.

Against my better judgment, I decided to weigh myself.  It’s important to note that the scale and I have a very dysfunctional relationship, so much so that I did not have one in my home for many years.  These days I rely on the way my clothes (do or do not) fit to keep me in check with reality and to let me know if I’m dangerously close to exceeding max capacity.    Unbeknownst to me, CMB purchased one last year during his Ironman training and managed to keep its presence a secret for months.  I literally stumbled upon it one morning when he forgot to hide it away, and then I proceeded to freak out.  I know this is super girly and very un-athletey behavior, but I’m being honest.  CMB, being fully aware of our unhealthy relationship (mine and the scale’s, that is,)  was truly trying to do me a solid by keeping its existence on the DL.  But now that I know it is sharing our living space, I occasionally yield to it’s call.

The most ironic part of the entire scenario is that I was feeling damn good and fit when I chose to climb aboard.  Pfffffffffft…. the wind drained out of my sails the instant those digital numbers registered on the screen.  How is it possible that I have not lost a single solitary ounce, not even a fraction of an LB since I began marathon training 15 weeks ago?!  If I wanted to be Pollyannnaish about the whole business, I could revel in the fact that at least I haven’t gained any weight either.  But no.  Running and running and running and running and burning thousands and thousands and thousands of calories each week have gotten me nowhere.  Sure, I didn’t go in to this in order to lose a certain amount of weight or to become some previously unattainable size, but shit- it would be nice if my body could reflect all of the torture I’ve inflicted upon it/ hard work that has consumed me for the past three plus months.

At a loss for where to turn, peanut M&Ms no longer being an attractive option, I began surfing the web.  “Is it possible to lose weight when training for a marathon?” I searched.  I found a variety of responses, affirmation of which ever way you might swing, but chose to hold fast to these words of my marathon icon, Hal Higdon:

“In all honesty, I feel that training for a marathon and attempting to lose weight are conflicting goals. I know a lot of people try to link marathon to weight loss, but I’ve never considered that a great idea. You need calories for energy, and if you’re starving yourself with a low-calorie diet, you may not have enough fuel in your system to do the long runs comfortably. Trying to lose weight while marathon training is like having two masters: Which one do you want to please?”