Hey, Fat Girl.

Yes, you. The one feigning to not see me when we cross paths on the running track. The one not even wearing sports gear, breathing heavy. You’re slow, you breathe hard and your efforts at moving forward make you cringe.

You cling shyly to the furthest corridor, sometimes making larger loops on the gravel ring by the track just so you’re not on it. You sweat so much that your hair is all wet. You rarely stay for more than 20 minutes at a time, and you look exhausted when you leave to go back home.  You never talk to anyone. I’ve got something I’d like to say to you.

You are awesome.

If you’d look me in the eye only for an instant, you would notice the reverence and respect I have for you. The adventure you have started is tremendous; it leads to a better health, to renewed confidence and to a brand new kind of freedom. The gifts you will receive from running will far exceed the gigantic effort it takes you to show up here, to face your fears and to bravely set yourself in motion, in front of others.

You have already begun your transformation. You no longer accept this physical state of numbness and passivity. You have taken a difficult decision, but one that holds so much promise. Every hard breath you take is actually a tad easier than the one before, and every step is ever so slightly lighter. Each push forward leaves the former person you were in your wake, creating room for an improved version, one that is stronger, healthier and forward-looking, one who knows that anything is possible.

You’re a hero to me. And, if you’d take off the blaring headphones and put your head up for more than a second or two, you would notice that the other runners you cross, the ones that probably make you feel so inadequate, stare in awe at your determination. They, of all people, know best where you are coming from. They heard the resolutions of so many others, who vowed to pick up running and improve their health, “starting next week”. Yet, it is YOU who runs alongside, who digs from deep inside to find the strength to come here, and to come back again.

You are a runner, and no one can take that away from you. You are relentlessly moving forward. You are stronger than even you think, and you are about to be amazed by what you can do. One day, very soon, maybe tomorrow, you’ll step outside and marvel at your capabilities. You will not believe your own body, you will realize that you can do this. And a new horizon will open up for you. You are a true inspiration.

I bow to you.

UPDATE. 2014-03-10
As I stated somewhere in the hundreds of comments below, I stopped coming back to this post a long time ago. Obviously, it has taken a life of its own, and I was always touched and happy when someone would send me a comment or e-mail about it, about them and their journey, and about how they were inspired by my humble words.

A little while ago, some of you have started contacting me about a Facebook post, from someone who ran "at the Westview track". You were angry, calling the author a plagiarist, even trying to do something to make it known to the world. I replied "It's fine, it's the message that matters", thinking the other text was perceived as inspirational and uplifting. I put my personal appreciation of it to the side and went back to other things.

But then something happened. An absolute stranger named Tony decided to react to the text. Himself on a journey to health, he used strong, firm words against the "Westview" text, but made sure to disassociate it from mine at the very beginning. I was very touched, and sent him a thank you message.


UPDATE. 2014-03-17
Lines of messages after lines of messages, Tony and I discussed about the whole story, about inspiration, and about how "Hey, Fat Girl" had come to life on a work day morning some time ago. He got curious about my fat girl, so I told him something no one in the Internet world knew, because it was never intended to be known. The fat girl in my story existed, but she was a man, and one of my best friends.

Tony asked if that friend, Dan, would like to talk with him. He did.

And this is what happened.

I am speechless. Honored that a perfect stranger who knows from very personal experience what it is to be judged made the difference between my text and another. But, most of all, I am delighted that my little words traveled all around the world to come to a full circle, linking two admirable men from different hemispheres of the planet by the immense respect I have for them. Both.