Weight Gain As A Runner

And it turns out, I need an even bigger body to accomplish my goals. I thought I was fueling well. I thought I was eating enough, given that my weight was stable, if not going up. But it turns out my body needed more, a lot more.

The little bit of weight gain I experienced while marathon training? Well, that was probably due to the training, as a small weight gain is related to higher metabolism, hydration, and training (1HUTTBOLE, 2026). Two to five pounds during a marathon training cycle reflects muscle mass, more glycogen, and more water stored with that glycogen (Gaudette, 2026). It turns out that my body needed more actual weight, though. It needed more weight to feel safe, to protect itself. I was fearing weight gain more than injury, and then the injury happened (Sekely, 2026). I never intended to set out on this journey to build a bigger body, but my stress fracture brought me to it, and I hope nutrition and weight gain will bring me through it.

It turns out that being heavier is actually better for my skeleton. "Being lighter doesn’t necessarily mean you’re putting 'less stress' on your skeleton especially if it means you’re falling into a state of low energy availability" says Registered Dietitian Serena Marie (2026). While I was not intentionally in a state of low energy availability, that was the only cause medical professionals could hypothesize as a cause of my injury. Additionally, my bone density was lower than "normal," and the only way to fix that was to gain weight in order to increase load on the bone (Haver, 2026). Then I had to grow bigger muscles to support that bone. And so I set out to do what the professionals told me: Eat in an energy surplus and then lift heavy.

It was not fun or easy to eat like a marathoner while not running. I guess I thought if I was in an energy deficit, my body would course correct as I ate more. Not so. It turns out that my body, just wanted to gain weight, and that weight gain happened quickly. I wrestled with it greatly. My clothes did not fit the same. I felt gross. I started to not recognize my body. Apparently this period of weight gain is something that happens to a lot of runners as they start to fuel correctly (Alm, 2026). I just started running a lot later in my life, and so the associated weight gain and body changes had to come later, when I already had a long history with a different body.

I will be honest that I initially fought the body changes, but I realized I could not continue living at war with myself every single day. So I had to change my goals. I had to change my goals to be to see how strong I could get, regardless of body size. I had to accept that I might need to buy all new clothes. I had to decide to live for my future self and not just my comfortable now self.

I have hopes that there are more running adventures (and maybe even more personal records?) on the other side of this. I have read stories where this is true (Amy Elizabeth, 2026, Infeld, 2024; Infeld, 2025; Quiet-Painting3, 2025; Run_Fast3r, 2023). But more than anything, I want to be healthy. I want to run longer. And I hope, to learn to accept myself in new ways. To quote Therapist Emily Brazier (2025), "So yeah, my body has changed. But so have I." I hope I get to the point that she did to say, "And I’m really proud of both."

So here's to the weight gain. Here's to the change. Lord help me! 

References:

Alm, M. [Host]. (2026, June 19). Q&A with Maddie - 32. [Audio podcast episode]. In Fueling Forward. https://rss.com/podcasts/fuelingforwardpodcast/2925615/

Amy Elizabeth. [@TinkGoesToArizona]. 2:59 → 2:44 On Monday in Boston, I closed the chapter on every PR I set while underweight.I’m a completely [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/DXfIacWgXvS/). 

Brazier, E. (@_healingwithemily_). Let’s be honest, my body has changed… a lot. And I’d be lying if I said I don’t still have [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/DX2ZyyUinlj/

Gaudette, J. (2026, April 29). Weight gain during marathon training: 3 causes explained. Runners Connect. https://runnersconnect.net/weight-gain-marathon-training/

Haver, M. C. (2026). The new perimenopause: An evidence-based guide to surviving the zone of chaos and feeling like yourself again. Rodale books.

Infeld, E. [@EmilyInfeld]. (2024, February 21). PSA to runners - skinnier is not faster! I get so sad when younger runners are worried about their weight and [Video]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/reel/C3oH6lGApVb/

Infeld, E. [@EmilyInfeld]. (2025, November 17)). I didn’t get faster by getting smaller — I got faster by fueling. My running has never been defined by how [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/DRLKoDKEoWa/

1HUTTBOLE. (2026). Does anyone else gain weight when running more? [Online forum post.]. Reddit. https://www.reddit.com/r/Ultramarathon/comments/1r6fcte/does_anyone_else_gain_weight_when_running_more/

Quiet-Painting3. (2025). I’ve found fueling to be the key for me. It allows me to train and recover better. I haven’t weighed  [Comment on the online forum post Getting faster despite having a heavier scale weight.]. Reddit. https://www.reddit.com/r/XXRunning/comments/1kzrewv/getting_faster_despite_having_a_heavier_scale/

Run_Fast3r. (2023). Extra weight won’t slow you down unless you gain too much body fat. Gaining weight by lifting weights and eating [Comment on the online form post Gaining weight as a distance runner]. Reddit. https://www.reddit.com/r/trackandfield/comments/12vgq6e/gaining_weight_as_a_distance_runner/

Serena Marie. [@SerenaMarieRD]. (2026, May 1). Being lighter doesn’t necessarily mean you’re putting “less stress” on your skeleton esp if it means you’re falling into a [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/DXzAUV6R_rV/)

Sekely, V. (@trainsmartrunstrong). (2026, May 6). Gna hold your hand when I say this… [Photograph]. Instagram. https://www.instagram.com/p/DYAGOKekRIk/?img_index=2

Grieving the (Maybe Not So Little Things) Anew

After about nine years living with focal dystonia in my right hand, you think I would have gotten used to it. In many ways, I have. I accept, or at least am used to, my hand curling. Taking medication three times a day is routine. Oversalting my food to counteract the hypotensive effects of the medication is a regular practice. I always type holding a pen and often find pens lying around the house because I forgot I was holding one in order to straighten out my hand. But then there are times like my botox injection a few weeks ago when I realize anew the relative permanency (unless God should choose to supernaturally heal me) of my condition.

I work for days, sometimes weeks, up to my botox appointment to get everything possible done so that I can rest after my injections. I learned the hard way that doing housework spreads the botox, especially cooking and cleaning that involves repetitive movement. When the botox spreads, it not only fails to treat my condition, but makes my hand weak, so weak that I can't turn the key in an ignition, unscrew the gas cap on the car, or even clip my own fingernails. No fun, so I prep. I prep and freeze food. I do chores like a crazy women. I usually rush right up to my appointment, sliding in the door just when I am due. I liken it it to the nesting pregnant women do before they give birth, only I am not giving birth. I am receiving toxins into my body to release my muscles and prevent them cramping so hard it feels like I have wires pulling my fingers back into my skin.

I experienced a few moments of mental relief after getting my botox injections this time, but when I went to schedule my next appointment, I felt grief. I grieved the fact that I will have to go through this cycle all over again. I grieved that I had to schedule this appointment around a planned visit to a friend, as that visit requires toting my luggage around, and would therefore not be appropriate after botox, when my arm was supposed to rest. I grieved that this botox treatment cycle will be my life for the rest of my life, unless God heals me.

In some respects, these are little things. Focal dystonia is not a terminal condition. It's not cancer. I shouldn't die of it. While I cannot do repetitive motions for three days after botox, I can walk. I can run. Botox doesn't make me sick or ill overall (as do chemo and other such treatments). Other than a few tiny injection pricks and ongoing muscle atrophy from the injections, my arm does not look much different. My condition is chronic, though, and that brings with it some grief. Maybe that grief is more about the little than the big things, but it's still grief, and I am still needing to work through it. Maybe this is part of my sanctification process. Maybe this is part of my journey in practicing self-acceptance and self-compassion. Whatever it is, may the Lord help me through it, because only in and through him are all things possible.

Running Helps Me Believe in Myself.

It’s been over two years since I last ran this far. I tarried getting out the door, in part because I just wasn’t sure of myself. I’d been low on sleep. I’d had health issues. I’d come back from breakthrough COVID. I’d been stressed. I’ve been scared running will lower my immunity and I’d get sick again. With things the way they were, I wasn't (and still aren't) even sure the 10K I’d been training for would happen. But I decided to try to get in my long run. I got up. I drank some water. I ate (a new skill I’m trying—fueling before and after running). And I started. My goal was to get to the canal path, a place I’ve wanted to go since we moved a few years ago, but it’s far, like over two miles away far. The stoplights and crosswalks didn’t exactly agree with me. I’m bad with directions. I had to wander a bit to get there, but I made it! And then I started that run. I even got to run to one end (and through a parking lot to get to halfway miles). But then I had to run home, a long way home.

I felt a bit tired on the way home. (I should’ve run with water and food.) My legs felt heavy. I told myself to get to the next stoplight, and the next stoplight, and the next one, and the next one, and then home. And I made it! I actually made it. The simultaneous relief and exhilaration I felt was palpable.

Running is not the be all, end all. I will never say that it is. For me, though, it has been so powerful. This day reminded me of that. Among other things, running shows me that I can do hard things. It shows me that sometimes "mind over matter" really works. When I accomplish the hard things, it increases my confidence in myself. I am willing to try (and perhaps fail) at other things. Running helps me believe, in myself, in my body, and in the wonderful Creator who made such a body to even be able to run. To Him be the glory!

Don't Envy My Body.

I'm really tired of all the body talk, but I'm going to join the fracas for a moment since I feel I have some things to say. Those things are these: To those who envy thin bodies, I want to say "Thin people have problems, too." To those who think thin people have all the privileges, let me say, "Thin people face persecution, too." The thin ideal is not really ideal. Let me elaborate.

Appearance: Though in a smaller frame, I still feel self-conscious about how I look. I feel especially self-conscious because of comments people make such as, "Eat more." "You shouldn't run." "Life weights!" "Need some protein?" There is so much more that contributes to my appearance than food and exercise. Take my right arm, for instance. It's even skinnier than the rest of my body because of the botox treatment I receive to treat my focal dystonia. I can't control this, but I don't wish to talk to everyone about it, either.

Clothing: I don't have shapes and curves like some women, so finding clothes that fit right is a struggle. I prefer loose and billowy fashion, so this is not as big an issue for me as some others, but it still is a problem. Trying to find jeans for instance? Forget it. Most jeans are either too big or too small in certain places, often both. Designers don't cater to the typical "thin" body. I would argue that they don't cater to real bodies at all, but that's a different topic for a different day.

Dystonia: I wrote above about my atrophied right arm. Dystonia, visible or invisible, plagues my body. I have a neurological disorder and a disability, even in my thin "healthy" frame.

Energy: I don't have a lot of it. I generally try to eat plenty, but since my body doesn't have much fat stored, when I get hungry, my blood sugar drops fast. Then I get hangry, or otherwise emotionally dysregulated. It's not a good feeling.

Health: Some people tell me I look healthy because I am thin, but being thin carries with it its own inherent health problems. My body size makes me extremely sensitive to stress. More often than not, my yearly blood work shows that something is off, because my body just struggles to keep up with the pace of life. When I get sick, I can get really sick, and it can take me a long time to recover. Would these issues improve if I gained weight and my body grew bigger? Maybe. But if this is the size my body wants to be right now, forcing it to change might raise other problems.

I could probably go on and on, but I won't. Some people don't like my body. Some people do. I'm unfortunately in the former camp more often than not. And it is on those days especially that I want to shout from the rooftops, "Thin bodies are not the best bodies! Please don't envy me!"

I would argue that most of us struggle with our bodies. We all have bodies, after all. So instead of envying one another (I've been guilty, too!), could we respond with a little grace? Could we leave room for the body debates that some people want to have and step aside to have another discussion? Could we start talking about how we can support and care for one another in our struggles, how we can support and care for ourselves? Let's stop the envy, friends. Let's start some compassion. Let's stop talking about our bodies and start talking about some bigger things. Goodness knows there are bigger issues at stake in our world right now!

Seven Mile Gulch Trail (And Why Sometimes It's Okay to Quit)

I asked my husband last minute last night if we could go hiking today. I had the hiking bug, and it just felt like it would be nice to be outside and move before we probably spent the rest of Labor Day lying around. My husband said we could go if I could find a trail, so close to midnight, I hopped on the National Forest Service website and found Seven Mile Gulch Trail. 

Granted, it said it was steep, but it was close, and had no paid parking. It said it took an hour and a half to hike, but normally those estimates are off. And besides, it wasn't in the mountains, so how steep could it be?

We decided to get up at 6:30 am, get dressed, and head straight out. We ended up leaving around 7 am and arriving at the trail about 7:15 am. I figured that left us just about an hour to hike. (We had a 10 am commitment back at home.) I figured we'd get to at least the 2.25 mile trail junction, or at best, hike the whole 3.1 mile trail.

Well, the trail started out flat-ish. And then it started to climb, and climb, and climb. There were some great views, but the hills never seemed to end. They were covered with somewhat loose, shale-y rock, and has my husband pointed out, the trail really wasn't designed that well, because it had no flat points, or even switchbacks. It was just hilly. If we wanted to rest, we just had to plant our feet, or plop down.

At about 45 minutes in, we were at 1.75 miles. I hoped the trail would even out so we could get to my 2.25 mile trail junction goal. I tried to move a little faster, not wanting this trail to get the best of me. But the trail kept climbing. And my all too wise husband pointed out, "I don't think we're anywhere near the trail junction."

At that point, I had a choice: Ignore my husband. Ignore our tiredness and use of almost all our water. Push the time we needed in order to get back home on time. Or quit. I'm not a quitter, and it's not like me to give up. But it this case, it was a pretty easy decision. I took a few more photos and we turned around and headed back. 

I don't know if I'll ever see the end of the trail. Given how steep those hills were, I don't know if I'll try to conquer the trail again. But you know what? That's okay. The goal today wasn't to finish the trail. The goal was to get outside and move and spend time with my husband and enjoy it. The commitment we had at home was more important than finishing the trail. And I'm trying to train for a longer race again, so I don't need to go exhausting myself on an off-running/crosstraining/rest day. So I quit.

Quitting our hike early doesn't make me a quitter, though. Because it's okay to quit thing sometimes. It's okay to prioritize. Quitting one thing might mean you can finish another. And sometimes that other thing is more important. So in that case, quitting makes you a finisher, even if it wasn't the thing you originally started.

What Cutting My Hair Taught Me About Belonging to Myself

I liked my long hair, but I also felt ready for a change and chopping off my hair seemed like a change I should make. For months, I pinned images of my preferred styles and asked the opinions of others. I decided to make the cut for my 30th birthday, but then I chickened out. I couldn't find a salon that had openings. I feared I would look like a boy. I worried what people would think.I knew my dad liked my long hair. I worried I would dislike myself if I cut my hair. I was distinctly afraid. So I didn't cut my hair.

I did a lot of thinking and soul-searching when I was on my cruise this summer. (I was also reading Braving the Wilderness by Brene Brown during this time.) I remember the moment when I looked into the mirror and thought, "You know what? This is my wilderness. I need to belong to myself and care less about what other people think and more about my acceptance of myself." I decided then and there that I would cut my hair when I got home, if I could find a salon that would do it.

A few weeks and phone calls later, I chopped 10 inches off my hair. The experience was terrifying, and liberating. I didn't realize my worst fears. I actually liked my new hair cut. My dad approved. Many other people complimented me. Though the compliments bolstered my self esteem, people noticing me so much actually made me feel uncomfortable. But I survived. And I learned something about belonging to myself as a result.

Three haircuts later, I chopped my hair again yesterday. I like my hair short, but I wanted a different style. I asked my boyfriend if he cared what I did to my hair (because I felt it was respectful to do so), and when he said he didn't, I went for the new cut. I figured I could always grow my hair out if I didn't like it. That thought was a huge realization for me, and a symptom of growth. I realized that I am not my hair, and that my hair cut doesn't change who I am. I was belonging to myself!

I have a really good hairstylist and I like my new hair cut. I'm grateful The fact that my fears were minimal and that I could go into this knowing I wouldn't change, though, was an even greater blessing. Who would have known that cutting my hair would teach me so much! Praise the Lord.

Too Much

I can be a bit of a firecracker sometimes. I'm an oldest child. I have a Type A personality. I'm stubborn and hard-headed. And I have a lot of strong preferences.

Sometimes I worry that my personality is too much. I think I should be more soft and demure. More docile or tame and less opinionated. But then I realize that I really can't be. I have a fiesty nature. That's just who I am, and to change that would be to change the person God made me to be.

There is certainly a time and place for being polite and respectful, for withholding. I never want to purposefully offend people with my personality. And I don't want to camp on my opinions and preferences to the point that I'm ridiculously inflexible. I don't want to be rude or prideful or selfish. But I don't want to be fake, either.

More and more, God is revealing to me who I am and what I am about. That allows me to be more assertive in expressing my preferences, more firm with my boundaries, and more sure with my "Yes" or "No." And in a lot of ways, that is freeing.

So if I've offended you in something I've done, please tell me and let's talk about it. Maybe I need to change, or learn to be more soft in my authenticity. But if my personality offends you because it's too much, maybe we need to have a surface level, respectfully tolerant relationship and let the rest go.

And on the flip side, if I invest in you, know I'm trying, by God's grace, to living an authentic life. I'm quirky and weird and full of it sometimes, but that's me. What you see is what you get, and if I share with you, it's honest, and intentionally real. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. Too much? Maybe. But this is the too much God has given me. And He's in control.

Self-Love and the Christian Faith

Some time ago, I wrote about self-care and selfishness. Since then, I've see a lot of Instagram posts and blog articles about self-love. there have been other articles about how people don't need to love themselves, but rather accept themselves and where they're at. In all this, I've started to wonder how self-love intersects with my Christian faith. I don't want to idolize myself, but I don't want to fail to care for the body God has given me either. I don't want to be a self-centered glutton, or an ascetic. What is the balance?

In a sermon on 1 John 4:7-8 this weekend, the pastor reminded us that love originates from God. Boom! All of this self-love stuff started to find its place in my heart. Love for self that comes from God and an appreciation of how fearfully and wonderfully He made me (Ps 139:14) is profitable. Love for self that comes from a desire to serve myself and ignore the needs of others is self-centered (Phil 2:3-4). Love for self that includes honoring rest and the needs of the body God gave me is beneficial because it places myself and God in the correct positions (Ps 46:10). Love for self that is for my own gain is sinful and unedifying to those around me (Ps 119:36). Failing to love either myself or others is failing to acknowledge the source of love in God.

Scripture does it again and sets my wrong heart aright. Now may the Holy Spirit help me practice love for self and others in the right fashion.