Weapons of Mass Destruction.

I was ready.
Like a Gladiator about to enter the Coliseum, I stood: breathing shallow, muscles tense, senses alert.
I stepped forward.
One foot and then the other. I closed my eyes, released a long held breath, and allowed myself to look down. Then I stopped. Everything around me wound down in slow motion as I reviewed with horror the number over and over again. That's not right. That's not right! My heart pounded in my chest as I sat down hard on the edge of the bed.
I had gained weight.
Every ounce of me wanted to scream. In an anguished desperation I rewound and played every bite, every movement. Foot steps of pain, too many to count. Recording every morsel that crossed my pallet. Chocolate deprivation!
There are many times we as human beings are required to sacrifice to gain, this was NOT suppose to be one of them! See, as Super Heroes go, I'm pretty results oriented. You train, you fight, you overcome the bad guy...the end. Not this time. The well written script I had mentally prepared was slowly burning on the altar of my assumption. I kicked the small metal box away from me, in case it decided to bite again, and perused my options. In my vast amount of limited knowledge, there are certain things I have been trained to know. I know to eat approximately six small meals instead of three big ones. It will keep your metabolism cranking at optimum production. I understand the principals of good calorie, good fat, high fiber, whole grain, high protein, no sugar, clean eating. I understand you need carbohydrates, and lots of water. These are principals in eating that are as ingrained in my mind as wax on, wax off. I laid back on my bed.
What did I miss?
Then I heard a creak. I sat up, looking quickly around me. Nothing. My senses heightened and my breathing sped up. Another creak. I stood up quickly, and was face to face with Obesity. It's toxic breath hit me. Obesity always carries the same scent: doubt, self loathing, depression, fear, unfulfilled dreams. Like an all consuming fog, the poison wraps around my mind. I feel my balance become unsteady as my out of practice legs begin to grow weak. It stands there breathing out. I stand there taking in. My thoughts swirl like a tornado, beating me with the debris of passed failures. Times when I could have and I didn't. Times when I should have and I couldn't. Then the maybes begin their dance. Not a graceful ballet, but a hard rhythmic Irish stomp. Stomping, constant stomping. Swirling debris, nagging nagging, constant stomping. A symphony of well tuned destruction.
Then a voice.
A quiet knowing pierces the noise.
"No weapon formed against you shall prosper!"
Just seven small words. Each one anchors in a sea of confusion. I shook my head and felt it clearing.
I drew back and head butted Obesity as hard as I could, stunning it for a second. It quickly turned steel eyes on me as it lunged forward, but I side stepped and Obesity fell. It tried to grab my legs, but I kicked it again hard in the neck, reminding this villain who I was. As quick as it came in, Obesity left. Something in the mirror caught my eye. A flash of a smirk, and then nothing. I stood there for a minute feeling my pulse start to slow.  I caught my eyes in the mirror and smiled. I had won this battle, but the war was far from over. Obesity would return, it was a certainty.
I tucked my hair behind my ear, straightened my cape,
 and kicked my scale as hard as I could under my bed. 

Is this cape made of steel?

I'm starting to run.
As my feet hit the pavement this morning, I was as nimble as a jackhammer. Breathing through the pain, I realized...somethings are just worth it. My body screamed for me to stop, so I slowed down. I had been going for sooo long...O.k., it was 55 seconds...but it felt like a month..at least.
 I had put on my cape this morning. Hence the question,"Is this thing made of steel?" I'm training slowly and carefully, learning how to read my body. More water when needed, protein after runs, etc.. This way of life is not an option for me, it's an equipping.
  I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia last year. It made sense. All the fatigue and aching. No 32 year old is supposed to feel 80, but I did. I know what pain is. I know what it's like to not be able to get out of bed. I watched my boys play from a distance, and my husband, who worked so very hard, pick up the slack. Dishes have gone undone, clothes unwashed, homework slips unsigned. Despite being close to the Lord and believing He had a plan for me, I think I believed my body was done. You know, all of us at one point or another are brought to a total realization of the frailty of human nature, and doubt our Hero abilities.
I was here.
I was tucked away in my underground cave. All my ninja equipment was put away in their hidden bedroom compartments. My costume was in a glass case that badly needed Windex, and I was casually sipping my coffee from my favorite cup. I had surpassed couch potato status and gone straight to limp noodle.
 Then it happened. I met Bear Grylls. Well it was through the t.v., but I know he was talking to me. As I watched this series "Man vs Wild" something happened. At first, it was pure fascination. Not many people on this earth can show the true prowess of drinking ones pee or eating a spider. I was thoroughly in awe. I understand it was a pure demonstration of survival, but to this paranoid, seafood refusing, "Honey, this chicken's not cooked enough", consumer of food, it was unknown Super abilities. He climbed trees and rocks, like he was confirming his name, and braved iced cold temperatures with not even a wash cloth to cover his naked tush. Who was this Hero?
 So, as with most of my curiosities in life, I took off on a cyber rabbit trail. I may not have the technology of Iron Man, but I can navigate a computer with the resourcefulness of an underpaid paralegal.  What I found blew me away. This man who seemed so invincible had at one time broke his back in a parachuting accident, and has lived with severe pain.
 It was like glass shattering.
So I...began to run.