No More Fun House Mirrors

I started running when I was thirty years old. I wanted to be an FBI agent and one of the qualifications was to run two miles in under sixteen minutes.

Starting slowly, I eventually worked up to three miles, and then I entered a one-mile run to see if I could do an eight-minute mile. I could.

After that, I settled into a running routine of three miles every morning. Outside of some minor running-related injuries, I kept up that routine for twenty years, until a stress fracture forced me to stop running and switch to walking.

I did not particularly like the running part of running; it was more of a chore that I had to get out of the way before I could start my day. What I did like about running, though, was watching my shadow as I ran.

I have body image issues, and have had them for as long as I can remember. I always saw myself as a large person, “big-boned” was a description I often heard growing up. I used to say I was born a size 12 and grew from there. Big bones, big feet, too tall. Even my hair gets bigger when I let it grow out—thick and frizzy, quite like Janis Joplin’s.

I am not scientifically oriented, and shadows (like radio waves and gravity) were a mystery to me.

When I ran, my shadow was a thin person’s shadow. It was some kind of magic, like the house of mirrors where the reflection is distorted. I did not understand how it worked, but I loved it. I was fat, but my shadow was thin.

When running with a friend one time, I commented, “Look at how your shadow reflects you but mine is thinner than I am.” He chuckled, as if I had made a joke, but I was not kidding. I actually believed that his shadow was an accurate reflection of his body and mine was not.

How could that be? I didn’t know, but I knew it was true. I knew I was fat, much fatter than my thin shadow.

Maybe it is age, or the wisdom of age, but I now have a much more realistic image of my body, of myself really. I can hear what other people say about me, how they see me, and I trust it. Not just my physical body, but who I am, my self.

It is a new reality and I sometimes still have to work at letting go of old images. “No more fun house mirrors,” my spiritual director suggested the other day. “No more fun house mirrors,” I concurred.

 

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3 thoughts on “No More Fun House Mirrors

  1. Sister Anne Marie Lom

    You expose the best issues! How we perceive ourselves really needs outside confirmation as we often see ourselves the way we were “taught” to see. I’m glad your spiritual director is so insightful!

    Reply
  2. Madeline Bialecki Post author

    Anne Marie, It has taken a very long time for outside confirmation to alter my inside image! I remember being in a work video about 10 years ago and saying to the videographer, “Why did you make my face look so thin? It looks pinched.” He and everyone in the room gave me an odd look and someone said, “That is the way you look.” “No way,” I said. “My face is round.” I have been thinking a lot about the difference between what we are taught and what we learn. Thanks

    Reply

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