Being a shorty has its perks

“I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I was a baller. I wish I had a girl who looked good; I would call her…” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sang these Skee-Lo lyrics while climbing the shelving at work or clambering on-top of my kitchen counter to reach that hidden bag of marshmallows.

Let me tell you, being short is no joke. It takes so much extra time and effort just to go about my day-to-day life.

I’m five-foot three (rounding up because every inch counts) and I’m fully aware that many females, and even some males, are even shorter than that, so I know how many of you can relate.

You’re the one stuck in the front row of every family picture, the one who goes to a concert only to get a face full of sweaty armpits, the one whose head serves as an armrest for your tall friends.

Not to mention, kissing someone taller than you is practically a workout in itself. Your neck hurts from stretching, you have to stand on your tip-toes and your abs hurt from trying to balance there. I mean, how are you supposed to enjoy the moment when you’re basically sweating?

Last week, I think I finally figured out why I’m as short as I am. I told my co-worker, Anna, that I think God made me shorter so I could still get some form of exercise because he sure as heck knew I wasn’t going to do much of it on my own free will.

Ever since elementary school, I’ve hated exercise. I was the only one who couldn’t do a pull-up in gym class and the chubbiest kid in my Girl Scout troop. Granted, I probably ate more of those cookies than I sold, but who doesn’t love a good Thin Mint?

All throughout middle school and high school, I struggled with my weight.

Every year, the pediatrician reminded me that I was heavier than average. Every year, I wished I could grow just an inch or two taller just so my weight would be more evenly distributed.

Honestly, I still secretly wish that would happen but, after five years at five-foot three, I think it’s time to let that dream go.

When I finally graduated from high school and started working at Chick-Fil-A, I realized that I really had to start working out or all those delicious waffle fries were going to take up permanent residency on my thighs. It wasn’t an easy decision. But, let’s face it, there was no way I was giving up waffle fries.

The only question was, “How should I start this whole exercise thing?” Finding something I really enjoyed took some trial and error.

I despised the elliptical, I hated lifting and the thought of pushups and burpees made me want to crawl straight back into bed with a quart of ice cream.

And then I realized, there was a form of exercise waiting right outside my door: running. The word itself might incite terror or provoke thoughts of hyperventilation and asthma attacks. I know it did for me at first.

The only memories I had to associate with running were terrible ones, most of which included two years on the high school softball team and running sprints during practice, finishing dead last every time.

However, the summer after my high school graduation, I decided to give it a go. This was mainly because I didn’t want to go to a gym and feel silently judged the entire time.

After hours of Googling “how to take up running” and looking at apps to help me get started, I finally decided on the app C25K, an app that promises to have just about anyone from the couch to running a 5k or 30 minutes straight in just 9 weeks.

The first day of running included jogging for 30 seconds and walking, for a minute to two minutes repeatedly for about 20 minutes total. I also downloaded the Runtastic app to track my speed and mileage.

By the end of my first run, I had logged about a 13-minute mile, which is practically a snail’s pace compared to seasoned runners. I was completely exhausted and very aware of how out of shape I had become but, for some reason, I felt like I had made some small accomplishment.

Over the following months, I ran two to three times a week and slowly worked my way through the app, running for increasingly longer periods each time.

By the end of those 9 weeks, I still wasn’t able to run for 30 minutes nonstop, but I could do 20 minutes. That was 20 more than I had ever been able to run before.

I felt accomplished. I felt so much healthier. I felt free. My runs let me leave all my emotions and anxiety behind and make me solely focus on the road ahead.

So, do I love running? Yes, now. Of course, there are still days when it’s rainy or cold, or I simply don’t want to go outside. But, when I do actually get my butt off the couch and hit the pavement, it’s all worth it.

Whether you love running or absolutely despise it, here’s some advice to take to heart – no matter what form of exercise you decide to get involved in.

First, do what you love. If you love playing tennis, do it. If you love biking through the woods, do it. And, if you hate burpees like I do, don’t do them! There is definitely something out there for you. It just takes some trial and error to figure it out, so don’t be afraid to try.

Second, find a buddy. I’ve ran with my boyfriend and multiple friends many times over the years. They are there to help you, and even struggle with you along the way. Just don’t embark on the journey alone. Working out – and life in general – is so much more fun with someone by your side.

Third, track your journey. It’s incredibly empowering to be able to look back and see where you started and how far you’ve come. Try getting an app that tracks your progress or keep a journal to remind yourself of goals and why you started the journey in the first place.

Most importantly, don’t stop. Push yourself, try harder and go that extra mile.

So, really, being short has been a blessing in disguise. It has pushed me to work harder in everyday situations and also encouraged me to exercise on a regular basis because, the only room I have for growth now isn’t upward, but outward.

But, let me tell you a secret. In the grand scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter how big or small, tall or short you are. The most important thing is being happy in your own skin.

And, right now, even at my meager five-foot three, I can honestly say I’m OK with being a shorty.

It may come with its disadvantages, but at least I’ll always have that extra leg room on airplanes.