I hate being fat. I've been fat for most of my life, pretty much since the third grade when I found out that I had aesthma. I let that little factoid become an evolving excuse why I couldn't, just couldn't! do this or that active thing.
The lazier and fatter I got, the more I relied on my own excuses why I should not have to do active, fun things with active, fun people.
Excuses only last for so long. Sometimes they do not work at all. And when that happens, now completely out of shape, I would be forced into situations where I had to be active, fun, and athletic. And of course I was just embarrassed by my inability and failure. No one wants to be embarrassed like that, so I withdrew further.
Embarrassment turned into fears, all sorts of fears, especially that common fear of failure.
And I liked those fears, because they kept me from those things that I thought were demanding far too much from me. I was not running from God, I just was running from... running. I feared demanding things because I did not know if I truly had what it takes.