Glancing down at my phone, my GPS said I had gone 12 miles in a little under two hours. “Four more to go,” I keep chanting to myself. Only a little over a half hour then you’re done. Sweat was pouring down my face, my back, my arms. It was stinging my eyes, my mouth completely dry. Four more miles to go.

This was my every day routine for the past three summers. Running was my life, my ultimate passion. It was my escape and comfort from stress and anxiety. When I was running, it felt like I was floating. However, it soon became very detrimental and destructive, and I was completely blind to it.

This is my story about my unhealthy obsession with my weight and appearance.

My junior year of high school I decided to join the cross country team. I was never built to be a sprinter, or a runner at that, but I just did it to stay in shape for softball. The next two fall seasons became some of my favorite memories, from running a 30 minute 5K to down to a 20 minute 5K. I worked hard to become a beneficial part of the team, and my senior year we ended up winning a championship title that I will always be proud of. Along with all of the pride and glory from running these races, I began to lose weight. At first, it was never my intention to lose any weight at all, but things quickly started to change.

Coming into my senior year of high school, I trained hard all summer to become a better runner for the team. On the first day of school, one of my guy friends told me that I looked “twiggy,” and for the longest time I considered that to be one of the best compliments that I had ever received. I was finally “skinny” and “attractive,” and in my head at the time it was a good thing. Eventually, I started running every day even after the season ended, even in the winter time, even when it was about -10 degrees Fahrenheit. It became an obsession, and if I didn’t run every day I would end up feeling guilty and felt like I didn’t deserve to eat that whole day.

A year later I signed up for my first marathon and couldn’t have been more excited. Training that summer was a lot of hard work, but I knew it would be worth it in the end. I ran a couple half marathons and enjoyed them, so I was certain a full marathon wouldn’t be too difficult. A majority of my days were spent running and working. Most of the days, my mileage exceeded 12 miles, and I had no problem with it. I felt so positive about myself after finishing one of those grueling workouts, and was excited to do it all over again the next day. On average, I was running about 65 miles per week.

The marathon came and gone by. I finished it proudly in four hours and eight minutes with my good friend Kate. I was so engulfed and overwhelmed with happiness and pride at the end of the race I cried. It was all over. However, I wasn’t satisfied. For some odd reason, I had thought that if I ran 26.2 miles I’d magically be granted a smoking hot beach body with a six-pack of abs included. I wasn’t. For days after the marathon I could barely walk, but I still forced myself to run. I was so frustrated that after the hundreds and thousands of miles put in that past year training, my body didn’t change. I didn’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model even though I was constantly running and starving myself from actual food.

Instead of realizing that I was on a downward spiral to nowhere, I continued to push on for my “dream body.” I found numerous workout and meal plans that I followed religiously, cut out all forms of sweets and fats, didn’t eat any fried food, and got myself two gym memberships. So I continued to run at least 10 miles a day and added in going to the gym. I didn’t want to touch a single weight because I was petrified that I was going to look “manly.” Instead, I set a goal of 500 burpees, 200 pushups, 350 air squats and lunges, and thousands and thousands of ab workouts per day.

I was going to community college at the time, so I would get up at 4:30 AM, go for my run to the gym, complete my first workout, shower, go to class, go to softball practice or a doubleheader, go to work, go to the second gym to run and do more burpees, then find time to do homework and sleep. Some times I didn’t go to bed until 2:00 AM, and was right up bright and early to get my run in.

Looking back at it now I am in complete shock with myself. Who was I? How did I do that? Just thinking of and typing all of that makes me tired…. It was an insane daily routine, but I did it for about a whole year. If I missed a single workout it would set me off and I would’ve ended up having a panic attack thinking I was going to gain weight. At one point, I was running about 80 miles a week on top of the demanding, strenuous, and exhausting exercises I felt like I absolutely had to do in order to eat one meal a day. I went from a healthy 125 pounds in the beginning of my freshman year of college down to 102 by the end of my sophomore year. I still wasn't satisfied looking in the mirror, I felt uncomfortable and constantly on-edge, I still wasn't at my dream body.

Food was my biggest enemy. I wouldn’t even look at a piece of pizza or fried chicken. Family get-togethers were my biggest nightmare because there was always some delicious dessert or bread that I would eat, and would end up hating myself for days after. I would obsess over calories and carbs, constantly tracking my daily limits on my phone. I would restrict myself from eating whatever I deemed to be unhealthy, and would rather starve than eat food that I thought would make me gain too much weight. I would obsess over what other “skinny” girls were eating and become so jealous and furious when I saw someone eating a cheeseburger without feeling bad or mowing down on some fries. Not only was I obsessed with what I was eating, I would constantly watch and track other people’s calories too. Insane, I know…. But at the time I had no idea how unhealthy of a mindset I really had.

My junior year I planned on running cross country at the college I was transferring to, and was very excited to be able to be a part of a team again. That summer in 2015, I ran my fastest 5K in 18:43 and couldn’t wait to compete. However, my dreams slowly started to fade away when my body started to slow down. A couple weeks into the season my lower back started to hurt, my hips felt like they were popping out of place, my feet constantly went numb whenever I was running or biking, and my knees ached uncontrollably. I became frustrated with myself because I couldn’t run a five-minute mile anymore, and I couldn’t make it over four consecutive miles without stopping in pain. I was constantly upset and depressed, some days it was a challenge to get out of bed and go to class. I began to panic; I was going to gain weight. I was going to be “fat.”

The athletic trainer advised me to stop running before the last two meets of the season, but I was bound and determined to finish what I had started. I promised myself that if I finished the last two races I wasn’t going to run for a long time. So I slathered my back and legs up with Biofreeze and took some ibuprofen, just hoping and praying for the best. My goal was to finish the races, and thankfully I did. I finally went to a doctor and chiropractor, I ended up hurting my lower back to the point where I am not allowed to run competitively for another year or two. I found out I had two slipped discs which was causing some nerve damage. Luckily for me it’ll heal on it’s own, but giving myself a break has been the hardest battle mentally to fight.

Almost a full year later, I can say that my mindset has changed for the better. Looking back at old pictures of myself I can’t believe I ever thought I was “fat” and let myself get that far. It definitely put a strain on my mental health, physical health, relationships, and school life. I am happy to say though that I learned a very valuable lesson from my injury last fall, and it is to truly respect and love yourself and your body. It really is the only one you have, and you get no do overs or make ups for the damage you cause to it.

This past summer was the first summer in three years that I didn’t spend every morning running, and it’s been the most difficult summer yet. I am thankful to say that the only real exercise that I am allowed to do now is lift weights, as long as I don’t put pressure on my back. I have been in the gym curling eight pound dumbbells and I’m becoming much more confident in my own skin. I’m also allowed to power-walk for ten minutes a day too, but I don’t find any interest in that yet…. No power-walking for this girl here.

My message to girls out there struggling with their weight and body image is that “fat” is simply a state of mind. That’s all. You are worth so much more than the number on the scale or your daily caloric intake. And guess what, you are worth that piece of triple chocolate cake and you are worth that slice of pizza. It’s not going to kill you. Sure salads and carrots are good for you, and make sure you’re eating a balanced diet, but don’t let it control your life. You’re going to kill your happiness from worrying about your body image too much. So don’t be too hard on yourself.

Go out, lift heavy, dance, eat whatever the hell you want, have fun with friends, and give yourself breaks. It’s cliché, but you really do have only one life and one body so be easy on yourself. Learning to love myself and respect my body was the best thing that I have ever done. I gained back a sense of freedom, happiness, family, joy, and friends from this. And most importantly, I gained myself back. Here I am, a year later and the "Freshman 15" and I've never been happier. Again, this may all sound cliché to most, but self-love is one of the most important forms of love out there.

Mental health issues, especially eating disorders and body image obsessions are often overlooked and misunderstood, but if you are struggling there is help out there. In the United States, approximately 20 million women and 10 million men suffer from a clinically significant eating disorder. There are numerous variations on what eating disorders are and how they are classified, and many cases of body dissatisfaction and sub-clinical eating behaviors are often dismissed. Surprisingly, about 50% of elementary girls in the age range of 6 to 12 years old are already concerned about their weight and appearance, NEDA reports. Many are already afraid of becoming too fat, and sadly this concern over body image will endure throughout their life. Something needs to be done to make a change on the war on body image.

If you’re reading this and struggling with your own body image, just know that there is support out there to help you. Family and friends are your number one support team out there. Don’t be afraid to speak up, you are not alone. If you feel alone and need someone to talk to, log on to the National Eating Disorders website. This website gives information on eating disorders and body image support; from a confidential helpline, parent tool kits, to support groups, it can help anyone in a time of crisis or need. Don’t be afraid to reach out and ask for love and support if you’re fighting a secret battle with yourself. No one deserves to live a life with of anxiety and unhappiness in their own skin.