Dear legs (or gams, or stems, or whatever)

Blogtember topic for today: Write a public love letter to someone (it doesn't necessarily have to be romantic).

Dear legs,

We've been through a lot together, you and I. It's sufficient to say we've been together since day one (though you didn't work all that great at first and did very little except serve as the barrier between me and those elusive toes I was always trying to grab). After I finally learned to stand up and walk on you like a shaky newborn lamb, we splashed through creeks together, squatted behind home plate to catch fast balls, and lunged after countless volleyballs on the court.

You were always so strong.

But somewhere down the line, I stopped appreciating you. In fact, I was embarrassed by you. For a period of time during my teenage and college years, I stopped wearing shorts and skirts, preferring that you suffocate in the hot summer heat rather than cause me shame with your overly muscular shape. There was a disconnect between us when your strength and capabilities were vastly overshadowed by outward pressure to be thin and gazelle-like.

You gained weight right along with me during my first two years of college and I stopped using you for anything of purpose, aside from walking to class (when I missed the bus) or when I sporadically decided it was time to start working out again (which never lasted).

In the summer of 2010, our church's pastor inspired me to jump-start my weight loss journey once and for all. When he announced to the congregation that he was going to run a marathon, I leaned over to Clayton and whispered, "Maybe I should, too." Not wanting to get ahead of myself, I decided that I would sign-up for a half marathon that following October. That gave me roughly three months to get into shape and be able to walk/run 13.1 miles.

The following week, I started making the painfully slow trek down the street to a 4-way stop sign at the end of the road and back. The entire journey was about 2 miles and it took me forever, but I didn't quit. You carried me down the street and back dozens of times and it eventually got easier; we eventually started increasing our mileage (and soon after, our speed).

That October, we ran 13.1 miles through a gorgeously hilly state park on one of the most beautiful fall mornings in history, and we never walked once. I've never been prouder!

You and I have since run 6 half marathons together and a dozen or so smaller races. Our yearly mileage totals near 1,000. While you will never been long and skinny, you've been totally reshaped, and I love you. I love right down to your awful farmer's tan and that weird broken blood vessel on the back left thigh. I love you because you're still so strong and that you allow me to do the things that I enjoy most. Because of you, I am able to train for my first full marathon this year and you helped me power through to my personal distance record this past Saturday. Can you believe we made it to 15 miles?

I love our post-run routine. It sounds creepy, but draping you with ice packs or submerging you into an ice bath gives me the opportunity to not only admire you structure, but to thank you. Thank you for being so capable. Thank you for all that you've helped me achieve. I promise to never hide you again.

You're may never look perfect in a mini skirt, but you're perfect to me.



  1. I love this post! Way to go on your running/fitness journey!

  2. Yep - no offense, I swear, but I thought I was going to hate this post because I'm totally jealous of your toned, lean legs. But you are more proud of one part of you than I have ever been about any part of me. I'm so looking forward to my night out of town, but somehow looking even more forward to changing my lifestyle as soon as we get back! Thanks for being an inspiration, Courtney!


Post a Comment