I grew up being stared at, measured, compared. I was always the small one ' not just in height, but in how people treated me. By my late thirties I was carrying more than twice the weight my body was ever meant to hold. Food became the only place I felt full of anything that wasn't shame. When I began my transformation, the first test was a flight of steps with a heavy weight strapped to me. Each step came up to my knee. People stopped to watch. I didn't look up. I just kept climbing. Later they told me to aim for a half-marathon. I said no. If I was going to suffer, I'd go all the way. I ran a full one. I lost the weight. But more than that ' I lost the version of myself that believed I was meant to stay small.