Holding on--barely

Hadn't run in ages--it is so addicting. I ran the other day and already the statistics and goals are buzzing around in my mind. 30 minutes Tuesday; might as well run Thursday and Saturday for thirty minutes. Then next week, run 45 minutes 4 times; the week after, complete 5 hourlong runs; then beging timing yourself and writing down your mileage--40 miles a week at minimum eventually! And sign up for the LA marathon in May. I'll be fit by then, back to my fighting weight of 84 pounds or less.
Ugh. One run and look where my mind goes! I should be concentrating on entering my master's program on talking to people in my field, networking, reading, writing something other than my weight related thoughts. But when the pressure is on, I go back to what is sootheing and familiar.
Food is disgusting to me right now, like sex has been for years. Malnutrition messes up your sex drive--and so goes being raped. Both are in play here, though is has been 8 years since the rape.
It is weird--I've never really deprived myself of beautiful art, literature or music for long periods of time, nor of the joys of nature. Perhaps that is because bodily pleasures (except for pain and exhaustion) are still verboten. I do love the physical sensations of activity and sport. My mind still considers any activity a virtue, therefore it is okay to enjoy being alive in a body as long as it is doing a virtuous thing. This is screwy--why can't eating be a virtue? Or sex? Or hugging a friend? Why are these things still uncomfortable or downright repugnant?
I'm stalling. I have a sinking feeling that I'm failing in so many things--that I have quite a good veneer of promise and possibilty, but a hollow interior. If I work and study and exhaust myself in endless activity, I can't find time to think of that. Busyness is the way I've kept these thoughts at bay the last 2 and a half years. I wonder how much longer this will work. When I'll burn out and be exposed for the emptiness I am.