I thought I would be so proud of myself. I ran my first half marathon yesterday. But I can only think about how much faster I should have been, and could have been. If I just weighed less. Living with Eli and his roommate has blown me up to a hefty 143lbs. I'm disgusting.
My time was 2 hours and 27 minutes.
It should have been 1 hour and 46.
45 minutes too fat.
I'm so humiliated. I ran it with Eli, and the instructor asked him to time himself during the summer and let her know what it was. Even she knew he would have been faster without me. How fucking pathetic is that. I'm sitting in a chair to write this, and all I can feel is my fucking fat rolls. I wish I were dead. Better than living in this body of mine.