SALT LAKE CITY — I'm about to say something I don't say out loud very often. Here it is: I love my body.

I am aware that it is often viewed as socially unacceptable to proclaim how much we love ourselves. To brag is ugly. We are to be humble. But too often we unfairly critique ourselves in the name of humility. I don't say that I love my body in a boastful way. I say it with respect and awe for what my body can do.

As early as elementary school, I remember girls gathering in circles to point out each and every flaw they perceived they had. My nose is too big. My chin is too narrow. My cheeks are too puffy. My eyes are too far apart. None of these observations were true to anyone but the speaker.

This conversation intensified when I got to junior high school and we were required to swim for gym class.

It was in the locker room after these swims that I learned one girl's thighs were too thick. Another girl's ankles were too fat. Another's arms were too flabby. I won't even begin to mention all the comments about stomach flab. It became a bonding ritual to gather together and discuss what we hated most about ourselves.

I was relatively unaware that these flaws existed until then, but suddenly, looking in the mirror became a dangerous activity. I, too, began to pick apart my appearance and, in turn, my self-esteem.

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Unfortunately, this hyper-critical analysis of our bodies only seems to get worse as we get older. But why?

How much time do we waste in self-loathing? Why wait 20 years to appreciate our bodies the way they are now?

Our bodies are gifts that are to be cared for and honored. It's not bad to want to be pretty and feel good about our looks, but it is bad to obsess over what are oftentimes imagined imperfections. It's too easy to overlook the miracles that our bodies are.

I can't play this game anymore. I refuse to allow magazines to convince me that I need to get flat abs fast, or whittle away my waistline. I will not allow someone else to tell me that I need this procedure or that product to make me look 10 years younger and find the secret to happiness.

What does this have to do with running? Since I've started running, I've gained a greater appreciation for this body and what it can do and how it makes me feel. It's truly no longer about the scale.

I love my legs.

They are strong, muscular and athletic. I cannot wear skinny jeans. My quads and calves are too big, but those quads and calves carried me over the hills of Boston and San Francisco. I love how my daughters can crawl onto my lap and how they just seem to fit there.

I love my arms.

My biceps are not only toned and strong, but are able to lift my sleeping daughter from her carseat and carry her to bed after a late night at the movies.

I love my eyes.

Even though I wear contacts, I have been able to see the Eiffel Tower at night in all its glittering glory. I have seen the pastoral landscape of a hillside in Wales on a foggy morning. I have seen Creamsicle orange sunsets in Hawaii. And I see the majestic purple Rocky Mountains each morning outside my door.

I love my ears.

I've heard my babies' first cries. I heard the boys of Boston College chanting my name as I ascended Heartbreak Hill. I heard U2 live from the front row. I heard my husband say, "I do."

I love my belly.

I carried two kids and marveled at the incredible changes with each one. I carried people in there!

I love my heart.

I love how it soars through the most challenging races. I love how it sometimes skips when my husband looks at me. I love how it pounds when my kids tell me they love me.

I love my lungs.

I love how they burn with a hard effort. I love how focused breathing in my Friday morning yoga class can calm me down and clear my head.

I love my feet.

I love the giant bunion on my left foot. I love the calluses and the missing toenail. I earned them. I promise to paint over the purple toenails out of respect for others, but I will no longer apologize to the pedicurist each time I pay her a visit.

I love how running reminds me each day just how remarkable our bodies are. I am aware that I have a choice that not everyone has. My body is healthy and functioning and I get to choose to run. Make no mistake, I do not take this gift without a grand dose of gratitude. There may be a day when running is no longer an option, but today is not that day. So today I will run.

There will be days when finding love for my body will be as hard as finding a lost library book three weeks overdue. I will never be a model. I'm eight inches too short for that, but I don't care. Beginning now, my gift to myself will be to love my body more. I love it for what it is, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.

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*Kim Cowart is a wife, mother, 24-Hour Fitness instructor and marathoner who, after battling a weeklong stomach bug, is elated at the thought of running anywhere, including a treadmill.**

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