Thighs Are Not the Enemy

I don't remember a time when I didn't hate my thighs. I can't recall exactly when I learned how a woman's body "should" look, but approximately 30 seconds later, I began dwelling on my thighs. Even at my thinnest, I wished they were smaller, stronger, with fewer bumps or jiggles.

But maybe I need to be easier on them. 

These thighs ran 10 miles today. They ran 10 miles last week, too, and they'll do it again next Saturday. I'm deep into training, and my thighs are doing their job. They pushed and propelled me, and kept going long after my mind wanted to quit.

I've been running casually since age 14, and running seriously since age 22. Throughout my running career, I've had my share of pain. My knees, shins, back, arches, and even the dreaded blackened toenails have all hurt and hindered my training. But never my thighs. Never once. 

So I'm calling a truce. 

My thighs are imperfect, but they've done everything I've asked of them. They've completed a marathon. They've traveled the world. They help me get to work, and allow me to walk, run, and dance. 

Focusing solely on what my body looks like is a waste of time and energy. Aesthetics only get you so far. Instead, I intend to refocus my energy on working on what my body is capable of. 

I have discipline, strength, and stamina, and I am capable of greatness.