Category: fitness

Limitless: A CIM Race Report

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Reflection

When I first started running, I had no idea I would ever come to love it as much as I do now. In fact, part of the reason in my life was because so many people– myself included– told me I couldn’t or wouldn’t do it. I don’t like being told I can’t do something. Most times, I make a silent covenant in my head and think, Oh yeah? Watch me. 

I know I’ve written about this before, but the biggest lesson running has taught me was not to limit my own potential. Once I ran my first marathon, my mindset changed from, “I could never do that,” to “I could try and do that.” It’s not about setting unreasonable goals, it’s about making a choice to test the limits of your brain and body because you want to see what will happen.

Running is about participating in a life-long experiment to see what I’m capable of. It’s about understanding that I may fail, but that I can always stop, reassess, and try again.

When I started this blog about a year ago, I was trying to get into the habit of writing more consistently. I was also hoping to document my running goal of 2015: to run a sub-4 hour marathon.

Today, I beat that goal with nearly 10 minutes to spare. 

I’m elated, for lack of a better word. While, in retrospect, my goal was fairly conservative (I’d run a 4:04 marathon last year), I can’t help but remember the girl I was five years ago, who looked at a marathon course and thought, “I could never do that.”

Then, she made a choice and did. Then she did again, and again. Through blistered feet and aching legs, that girl ran. When it poured rain or she fell and cut up her knees, she put her head down, dusted off her hands, and kept running. When every voice in her brain said, “You can’t do this,” she remembered every step she had taken before, pounded her feet and roared back, “Watch. Me.”

So, when I crossed the finish line today, I was running for that girl. Me. Because I have to be honest: I’m pretty damn proud of her.

Race Report

Alright! Running! Yay! Final time: 3:50:28.

So, I’ll be honest, some of the reason I didn’t write much in the past few weeks (besides travel) was because I’ve been freaking out about this race. There felt like a million things that could go wrong, and I was worried that by setting this goal, I was setting myself up for disaster.

By the time I landed in Sacramento and got to hang with my family, though, I felt good. I’ve tried to be better about nutrition, so I’d been slowly increasing my carb intake (mostly with rice and, oddly, ramen since I was battling a bit of a cold) over the past few days. I had a small vermicelli bowl and tried to grab as much sleep as I could.

On race day, I woke up early to catch the shuttles to the race. CIM is great because you not only can get shuttled, but you can stay on those shuttles until the race starts. Warmth win!

Speaking of which: despite my fretting, the weather actually didn’t feel that cold. Certainly a few shivers here and there, but it was near 50 degrees when we started amidst some light showers, so I couldn’t complain.

The first few miles were wet and fast. It was mostly rolling hills that were clearly heading down. Still, the course was crowded at this point. CIM is a fast course, which means that while people are on pace, there was still a bit of weaving. I was trying to stay with the 3:55 pace group, but would lose track and get caught a little bit behind.

I realize now, this was probably a key struggle in my racing last year. Since I ran without a watch, I had no way to make sure I was starting my races off at a steady pace when I’m so focused on trying to get through. This led to lots of catching up later on previously. Glad I made the commitment to time this year!

Miles 3-6 were all pretty fast, and by the time I was at mile six, I realized I had long left the pacer and run an 8:30 mile, nearly 30 seconds faster than planned. Eep!

Part of me wanted to try and slow down. I’m a conservative racer and normally stay at a slower pace until the second half of the race. Most of my training splits, though, had been in the 8:30-8:45 range, instead of the 8:55 range it needed to be. I decided to see if I could stay in the 8:40-8:50 range as long as I felt good. I promised myself if I still felt strong at mile 15 (when the course really started becoming fast), I’d let it go.

Fortunately, miles 6-9 made me slow down since there were some solid hills (nothing compared to Kauai, of course, but certainly enough to make me be mindful of my running). Fortunately, I also took the time to prep this year by studying the course and had prepped for this.

All of that melted, though, at mile 10. I have to say: Sacramento’s spectators did not disappoint throughout the ENTIRE course. It was nearly as populated as LA, full of funny signs and adorable families and folks of all ages cheering us on. Mile ten was particularly dense, and as your round a small uphill, you can’t help but smile at all the amazing signs and shows of support.

I rode that energy for a few miles and ended up pacing at 8:35 all the way until the half-marathon point, including through the toughest hills on the course. This was… a calculated risk that I certainly felt later on. While I’ve been running 8:35 as my half marathon pace, I hadn’t considered it my marathon pace. Still, I decided this was the year to push myself and leave it all on the course.

At mile 14, I could feel myself start to slow, and was so tempted to listen to music at this point. I had run the entire race without music, but had my headphones in case I wanted to call someone or really was struggling.I made myself calm down and keep pushing, not wanting to call in reinforcements just yet. I ended up dropping my pace back down to 8:50 by the time I hit mile 16.

I’m a pretty nervous consumer of energy gels (I worry about stomach issues) and usually train without them at this point since I’ve had enough experience with Gu’s to know they work for me. I had taken in fuel at miles 5 and 10.5 I wasn’t planning on taking another gel until Mile 16 or 18. I decided I had more than enough gels to last, and took a caffeine Honey Stinger at mile 14.5. It worked, and by mile 16 I felt back on track.

At mile 16, I had a hard conversation with my body. “Body,” I said, “this year, if we’re leaving it all on the course, it means the next 10 miles are going to hurt a bit.” My legs flexed in momentary protest, but then buckled down and ground it out.

Miles 16 and 17 were fast for me (8:35 pace, and in the middle of Mile 18 I could feel my legs start to lock. I momentarily began to panic, but made myself calm down. “Don’t get in your head,” I thought. “You’re trained for this. Stay in this pace right now.” I took another energy gel and begged my legs to stay with me.

By mile 19, I was starting to feel it, and dropped back down to an 8:50 pace — not in my heart or chest, but in my leg muscles. I was nervous I was cramping, but kept telling myself to breathe and relax. “It’s  yours if you want it.” I kept thinking.

At mile 22, I started listening to music intermittently. I was really worried my pace was going to slow, and I wouldn’t make my goal time. Still, Sacramento’s crowds were so awesome, and the scenery so beautiful at this point, I had to stop listening and just stand in awe. I realized that I loved doing this– running– so much. I wanted to make sure I enjoyed it.

I ran mile 24 a near 20 second slower (9:10) for reasons I still don’t understand. Honestly. Was it music? Was I just not focused? I am still bewildered.

When my watch showed me my pace for mile 24, I freaked a little. I decided that, in these last two miles, now was my time. I knew that, unless I walked, I beat my goal, but wanted to see what I can do. Mentally, the last few miles are so hard for me because it feels like I’m so close but take so much longer than I want them too. My legs were starting to ache at this point, but my heart and lungs felt strong and I knew I needed to just keep grinding.

By Mile 26, I pushed as hard as my stiff legs would let me, and by the time I made the final two turns I was flying as fast as I could. The ending split was confusing (why have two different endings for men and women?), but I ran to the end and couldn’t believe what I’d done.

Yay brother! So happy he was able to see me finish!
My cheer section has lots of #fighton spirit.
So, What’s Next?

So, I am actually running another marathon…. next Sunday.

Crazy, I know. I saw the races on my calendar and felt bad canceling Honolulu. So, I wondered if trying to do back-to-back marathons was nuts.

It’s not common, but actually not out of the realm of possibility. Emily Abbate’s story in Runner’s World resonated so strongly with me, that I know I want to try. I make these important caveats:

  1. While I PR’d here, I didn’t finish feeling so thrashed I can’t move. I spent much of the rest of today walking and feeling good, just tight.
  2. I plan to roll and ice this week to recover, with one run on Wednesday just to see how I feel.
  3. I have zero time goals for Honolulu. I just want to finish. Frankly, I might walk parts of it, and I’m fine with that. If worse comes to worse, though, I’ll drop out and not finish.

The thing is, I just really want to see if I can do this and finish, even slowly. I think I can, and that alone makes it worth a shot.

The Rollercoaster: Quick Thoughts on Body Image

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Teaching Tolerance was awesome and published a piece of mine about body image. I am, as always, so grateful.

As I read the piece, I was surprised. I sound so down on my body. I wrote that piece a while back and thought, “I must’ve been in a different place when I did.”

Then, I realized if we were to check out the fitness tag, you’d see that my relationship with my body is… tumultuous at best. I go up and down– sometimes I love it (which I usually write about) and sometimes I hate everything (which I often suffer silently).

I’m glad I reread and published this piece, though. After this past summer, I no longer measure and weigh myself every day (though, I admittedly do it most days). I try not to beat myself up over calories. I am much better about not sprinting food away.

This school year, I am working to better support both myself, but especially my students and the gender expectations they face.

I am getting better, but I know I may not always feel so good. What matters is that nothing stays the same, and we always, always can get back to a place of more love and support. Even for ourselves.  

Hit the Beat and Go: Pre-CIM and #SpotifyRunning Gear Review

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Check out my review of Spotify Running below!

So, we’re a few weeks out from the California International Marathon.

CIM_688x203I’ve been generally quiet about it, but this is my big chance to sub-4 a marathon. I specifically chose CIM for a few reasons:

  1. The course is known for being fast, however, it’s not flat like some marathons. Flats can get really boring for me, and I tend to get in my head and slow down. This marathon features some nice rolling hills as it nets a nice downhill.Screen Shot 2015-11-12 at 11.59.51 AM
  2. The race is in Sacramento, where my older brother lives, so I’ll be able to hang with him and my family.
  3. It’s a generally cool race, with average temperatures in the 30s. Sound strange, but I love a cold race. I tend to do better in cool weather.

I’m nervous, but trying not to get into my head about it. Still, my mind has been firmly focused on running over the past few days, which is great because the awesome folks at Spotify Running decided to give me a chance to try and review their product!

Edit: I just found these photos. Besides the awesome things they sent, Spotify made sure it was well protected and included enough bubble wrap to either eat me or make a beautiful fashion statement.

The Goods

First off, seriously, thanks Spotify. In addition to the subscription so I could try Spotify Running, I also got some delicious trail mix from Harry & David. That Mesa Verde one is delicious, and I’ve been noshing on it pretty non-stop for the past week.

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They also sent me a Nike gift card, and these awesome Bose headphones. I ran with them today and was definitely impressed. They stayed in during today’s windy jog.

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The Product

So, I don’t always run with music. In fact, I’ve been training without it for a bit. However, I’ve found playing with sound useful on some shorter runs to make sure I either keep my pace up when I’m tired or just to help me enjoy a run when I don’t feel like doing it. Lots of studies show music, when used properly, can help with efficiency, so I see it as a nice tool to use.

When I opened Spotify Running app, I was impressed with its nice interface.

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(yes, I was listening to “Hamilton” while I was running earlier. If Spotify offered an “awesome show tunes” channel, I’d run to it)

After choosing a playlist (I chose “Latin Beats”) it prompted me to run so it could measure my speed. IMG_7487 I did, and it quickly put me around 185 BPM.

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Not the strongest song choice, Spotify, but thanks.

Initially, this is where I had trouble the first time I tried Spotify running months ago. No matter what speed I would run, it would put me at 180 BPM. Don’t get me wrong, 180 BPM is the goal for many, but it made me unsure if I could trust the app’s measurement of my initial speed.

Fortunately, those issues are gone. I tested the app at many different speeds and found that it was able to both detect when I was at a slow jog (around 140 BPM) and when I was sprinting (190 BPM). Any slower than that (say, a nice walk), and you’re out of luck– the app only stays between 140 and 190 BPM even when manually set, but then you’re probably not using the app at either of those speeds anyway.

A few other things to note:

  • The app will initially measure your speed, but it won’t adapt if you speed up or slow down. Slate did a great in-depth piece on this, and I agree: when you know how the works, it’s easy to be thoughtful and use Spotify running to its strengths. Tempo runs or sprints? This thing was great. It’s ALSO great for recovery. I used it today post my final long run to make sure I stayed at a slow jog throughout. However, if you’re just looking for something to read you while you go out on the road, this won’t continuously match you. If you’re not looking for something to keep you steady and more looking to run based on feeling, you may want your own playlist instead.
  • They have some pretty good song choices though it’s not perfect. I wish there was some kind of thumbs up/down function. I tried the Latin Beats playlist, which had some solid reggaeton and merengue, as well as the “Power Run” list, which actually exposed me to some trap and dubstep I don’t normally listen to. Then, I put it on the “Run This Town” list, which claimed the “freshest RnB and hip hop jams,” but mostly featured songs with dudes very graphically talking about what they do to women (and not always with love and affection). Not the greatest or most empowering music. Don’t get me wrong: there’s plenty of hip-hop and rap I love that, unfortunately, has really disempowering language, but this was 6 or 7 songs in a row worth. It got to be a little frustrating.
  • The app promotes “gapless playback,” so your music fades in and out. I don’t have strong feelings either way on this– sometimes I like it, sometimes I wish I could get to the end of the song. Still, it’s important to remember that, when you skip a song, it will take a second for the app to fade into it.
  • The app is useful for more than running. I went to the gym to do some weight lifting the other day and decided to try the app as a way to just keep my heart-rate up. I skipped the measurement and put the BPM to 190. Gym playlist was set, and the gapless jams were great to keep me hyped up in between sets.

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    Nice.

  • It will suck up your battery, which, if you’re an Apple user, is just a fact of life. This is why it would be hard to use this on a long-run, but I don’t know an alternative since, as mentioned, much of that is Apple’s battery life issue.

Overall, I was really impressed with Spotify running! I’m excited to keep checking it out as I move closer to CIM. If you’re looking for a way to shake up your workout or even find new songs to add to your own running playlists, I definitely recommend you take a look. 

Note: As mentioned above, Spotify running and 360i sent me material and products as compensation for my review. They did not, however, encourage me to review either way.

You Actually Don’t Have To

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Wait, why am I doing this again? I thought to myself. It’s a thought most athletes know well.

Moments before, I was mud-surfing down a hill in Hawai‘i’s Kualoa Ranch for the third year in a row. My finger was sliced open, bleeding, and covered in mud. My legs ached. Right when I was feeling a little more steady, my feet gained more speed than my center and flew out from under me. *SPLAT* My entire body weight landed on my left hip, and the rest of my limbs followed and smacked into 4-inch thick, shoe-sucking mud. I grunted, looked at the walls of green foliage surrounding me, and knew I had no choice but to get up and keep moving.

After picking myself off the ground and out of the mud, I hit a mile or so of gorgeous, hilly, single-track trail running. Without thinking, I began a slow, steady trot, passing people who were using this as an opportunity to rest. Oh, it hit me, this is what I love doing! I should do more of this! 

Then, I realized that I could focus more on my running. I had only signed up for this race to prove that I could do it…to… who? Not myself, since I had already done this before. Whose approval was I seeking? Why would I show up again the next day to do it all over again? Last year, I had been excited at the prospect. This year, I only felt annoyance and frustration. Why was I doing this? What was I trying to prove?

After a few years of running and racing, this weekend marked a bit of a small, strange milestone for me: I chose not to run a race. 

In my six year relationship with fitness and running, I’ve never signed up for a race and not done it.

I’m a pretty stubborn racer, so that means I’ve raced in some not-so-great conditions. I did the 2011 LA Marathon with food poisoning. Last year, I completed the Spartan Trifecta (all 3 distances) over one weekend, and was out of training for two weeks. I have occasionally embodied the mindset of, Do it even when it hurts. Do it BECAUSE it hurts.

This mantra is useful for lots of athletes: we have to push past the initial walls we set up for ourselves, outside of our comfort zone, to achieve something physically greater than what we could the day before.

Still, the more I’ve come to understand myself physically as an athlete and just as a human, I have to ask: Why? Why am I pushing this hard? Is it worthwhile to do this?

And it often is for many athletes. We set goals for ourselves, we make a commitment, we get something done.

I think it’s important, though, to keep asking and reflecting on the “Why” of what we’re training for. Last year, I was training to be able to complete the Spartan Trifecta, and I did. This year, however, the Trifecta was a pitstop on the way to other goals, and I was consistently balancing getting ready to do the Spartan Race with my desire to run a good marathon. Yes, I know they’re not mutually exclusive, but I honestly didn’t feel particularly excited about doing another Spartan. I felt like I had a strange, internal obligation to do it, instead of an actual desire. So many people I knew were signing up for the race or assumed I was doing it, I figured I had to do it too.

Here’s the great thing that I think we forget as athletes: we own our bodies and we can actually do whatever we want. Just because everyone around you is saying you need to go hard, or run fast, or push yourself farther than you want to doesn’t mean that you should. You actually don’t have to.

Maybe it’s the FOMO aspect of my generation, but an important part of growing is learning to stand up and walk away from something when I don’t want it in the first place. It’s important to stop and figure out what I actually want, and anything that doesn’t align with that probably isn’t worth pursuing.

I finished Saturday, had a solid time (and, to toot my horn, finished 3rd in my category so heeeyyyy), and got to finish with my boyfriend watching and cheer some friends as they finished. The next day,  instead of showing up and doing a race I didn’t want to do for little more than bragging rights (especially upon hearing that the race ran out of medals for the second year in a row), I woke up, cuddled with my guy, and did an easy 7-miler.

I couldn’t have been more content. Is this adult-ing? Maybe. If so, I quite like it.

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Post-Spartan dancing, taken by my guy.

Aches and Breaks

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I heard the boy before I saw him again.

We had started up the backside of Diamond Head at roughly the same time, though he had likely run more miles than me. Gleaming with sweat in the humid afternoon, he ran with his hands behind his back for reasons that still escape me (is he training for some kind of twisted “prison” inspired race? Is that a military thing?). He looked 22, like he could’ve been a former student, and wore a “don’t mess with me” look on his face.

I knew because I often wear the same look, but today it was for very different reasons. I was dripping sweat and snot, my body rebelling after too much travel and not enough sleep. After finally accepting that I had a nasty cold, I had decided that I wouldn’t run that day. Rest days are necessities for all runners, and this would be one of mine.

Still, sitting at Kapiolani park, knowing I had all my gear if I wanted, I couldn’t help it. I had spent all morning thinking and talking about my love if running, and I was too fired up. I decided I’d run Diamond Head– a few miles– just to sweat it out.

And, man, did I do that. I sweated. I sneezed and hacked up whatever is sitting in my lungs and had to execute more than one Farmer’s Blow (I know. I’m sorry). I stopped a lot on the way over, and once I had come to the other side, I tried to catch my breath and whined a little.

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After a few minutes, I was faced with the thought most runners encounter at some point in a bad run. As much as you are so over this, you also know that the darn run isn’t going to finish itself, and you have to get home.

A bit more rejuvenated, I started back up the hill. That’s when I saw the boy. We paced together until he had to stop for water, but I saw him look up and give me an all-too-familiar glance. You’ll see me again.

I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t aggressive, it was something I think a lot of us do: you build a story while you run. You, silently, let out your inner competitor and you desperately want to “win.” I’ve done it often, and certainly don’t mind when others do the same. I kept climbing and crested the hill, just happy to have found my stride.

Five minutes later, I heard his steps behind me. I moved to the left so he could pass, until something kicked in my own head. Not today, kiddo. I snatched my self-pity, my resignation to a crappy run off the mat, and threw them out the window.

I picked up my stride and began to pump my arms a little more. Push push push. My back straightened immediately, and I heard a former coach’s voice in my ear, launch yourself to the next step! I bounced and hopped my way down Diamond Head, determined not to be passed. My breath caught in my throat, but I let out a quick, sharp growl and swallowed it back down.

Then, my hips clicked. Something happens when you’re body finally snaps into gear and matches what your brain is asking it to do. The muscles that were saying What the hell brain? We can’t do this! all of a sudden let go. For me, it’s in my hips. They spread wide along my back, and my body opens up in a way that propels me forward.

You. Shall. Not. Pass. my inner Gandalf screamed as I pushed forward. I pounded the pavement harder.

Suddenly, I am all fire. My lungs burning, my feat beating the ground like a fiery drum. I am molten fire streaming down beaches towards the ocean. I am streaks of gold off Apollo’s chariot. I am rage at student walk outs. I am fury outside city hall. I am my mother’s heart beat when she brought my into the world. I am my father’s arms as he holds us both. I am what you don’t see coming next.

I am all these things, welded into the fibers of my muscles, glowing in the sparks and charges that keep my body moving.

I get back to the grassy park, slow down, and look behind me. The boy is gone. I never looked to see if he was even really there.

If anything, the breaks we are forced to take make us much more grateful for the miles themselves. I didn’t run more than those few yesterday, but I am reminded that even when everything aches, and it feels like things are breaking apart, glimmers of golden, crackling joy are still there, deep inside us.

Waiting for Approval: Bodies in Swimsuits

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[I’ve been on a bit of a body-image/fitness kick lately. Maybe because it’s summer. Not sure.]

I am waiting for a man to approve of my body. How did I get here?

That’s what kept running through my mind a few days ago. I was laying on my couch feeling a weird mixture of rejected, angry, and confused. I had submitted for a job, and knew my ability to do it would be based on whether “the client” approved of my “look.”

For context: I occassionally am a promo girl. Nothing crazy, but sometimes I dress in cute outfits, put on make up and hand out fliers and samples. I also get paid $15/hr to do it, which is comparable to what I made as a tutor for a large test-prep company. Plus, student loans.

For the most part, I like my body. It’s not perfect, but (especially after the last post) frankly, I am generally feeling myself. I put hard work into it, and beyond aesthetics, I just like what it is capable of doing. So, when I submitted to work a job for a large sun screen company, I wasn’t concerned. I had worked for them before and it had been a shorts-and-tshirt deal. Easy.

Then, I discovered it was actually a bikini job.

I’m not particularly conservative (I live in Hawai‘i, and swimwear is pretty common around here), so I don’t have qualms about being seen in a swimsuit, but I also don’t have a “typical swimsuit model body.” My stomach is toned, but not always tight. I have short legs. I have smaller boobs for my frame.

The marketing company that I work for asked me to send photos of me in a bikini to send to the client (standard practice). Oomph. It was mid-afternoon on a day where I felt bloated and gross. Still, I changed, took the photos, and was waiting for someone to approve of my body for work.

A part of me wanted to be full of indignation: how dare these people get to pass judgement on me? How dare they feel as though they can decide if I’m “good enough” for the job?

Here’s the thing, though: I had agency and choice throughout this entire process. I submitted for the job initially. When I found out it was a bikini job, I could have said no, or that I wasn’t comfortable, and my employer would’ve been totally fine with that. If, when they asked for photos, I had said no, no one would’ve been salty.

So what do you do when the agent forcing you to validate to your body is no one but yourself? How do you battle all the voices screaming at you to look a certain way when their only yours? If “no one can make you feel inferior without your consent,” as Elanor Roosevelt is quoted on millions of magnets and tshirts around the world, what do I do when I’m not just giving consent, but I’m the one with the megaphone to my ear yelling, “Stop eating that caramel corn!”?

I spent much of the rest of the day waiting around feeling sorry for myself. Finally, my boyfriend surprised me with a rose and banana lumpia, my favorites. He lovingly listened to me rant all the way home, as I tried to figure out who I was angry at. Then, he said something enlightening:

“The thing is,” after he heard me rant about parts of my body (like my thighs) that I knew wouldn’t change, “most swimsuit models aren’t super ‘ethnic’ or even muscularly built to begin with  especially when they’re Brown. They’re white or, here, maybe Asian, and their the stereotyped versions of that: thin, small…”

“…willowy,” I filled in, a word often used to describe Asian female bodies.

“Right,” he said.

I wasn’t sure, but then I remembered that I was also going to flat-iron my hair for the job, since my curls didn’t “fit the look.” Now, it had me asking “whose look was I trying to fit?”

As we push to become more “diverse,” it’s important to remember that diversity isn’t just shades of color on our skin. It’s all aspects of loving and valuing different, perhaps cultural, parts of our bodies: including hair curls, thick muscular legs, and the softness of hips. We cannot keep letting society exoticize brown skin in advertising without accepting the fact that the brown bodies inside it may not match the shape that mass consumption thinks is “right.” I wasn’t the only one yelling in my ear to look a certain way, it was my voice backed with decades of cultural indoctrination that has told me I should look this way.

In some ways, though, I think the work starts with us. I think the work is internal, as it always begins.

If, as Tatum says, racism and its beliefs are the smog we breathe, that means we also have to know when to look at our bodies after a big, heaving breath to clear out our lungs from the toxic beliefs we’ve taken in. If I’m believing societal things about what my body “should” look like in a swimsuit, then they’ve already won half the battle. It doesn’t start with me raging at a company for making me feel this way, it takes me finding the strength to tell anyone that they don’t get to make me feel this way. It takes me choosing to not make myself feel that way.

So some of it starts with me, internally doing the work and perhaps unabashedly going out in a swim suit or a sports bra and being okay with that. I love that other women are out there, doing this. Hopefully as it happens more, it will mean that advertisers catch on, and at some point the “look” will expand far beyond what we’re already seeing. We have to be able to challenge those negative thoughts when we have it, though.

As for my “approval,” I was asked to be a back up for the job. I laughed after finally getting word, bemused at how riduculous I had been about the whole situation. I respectfully declined (and it wasn’t a problem) and got up to look in the mirror. Above it, is a race-medal hanger PJ got me that says “Run Like A Girl.”

Thank you legs, I thought, thank you thighs and feet and arms. Thank you grandma for the hair and mom for the eyes and family for the caramel skin and generations back for this body that runs, that moves, that works. Thank you Lord, for the blessing of a working body at all. Thank you. Thank you. May it always be glorified, just as it is.

I Am The Body, Divine.

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There is no possible way I can do another set of these, I thought to myself, mid-pushup. I had just foisted myself off the ground, begging my already tired abdomen and screaming shoulders to bring my body up in a straight line. Too tired to listen, my knees dragged behind.

“No rep,” the coach told me, meaning my pushup hadn’t counted because I had “wormed” up instead of following proper form. “C’mon, breathe, you can do this.”

I saw stars before my eyes, I could barely breathe, and  my stomach threatened to heave. I fell back onto the ground. There’s no way I can do this. I took a deep breath in.  Of course, that’s what I thought at the last three stations… I grunted a huge exhale as I willed my body up in a line.

“There we go!” Coach yelled. “That’s 20! Now, pick up the dumbbell.” Panting, a dropped to my knees, tried to clear my head with a quick shake and breath, and stood up.

Yesterday, I competed in the UFC Gym Challenge on a bit of a whim. I haven’t been training and going to DUTs (Daily Ultimate Trainings) nearly as much as last year since I became ~laser focused~ on that sub-4 marathon. Still, I have the Spartan Trifecta Weekend coming up in August, and I decided to just jump in. I assumed I’d be out by the first heat anyway, but have a little fun and a good work out in the process.

Well, while I had a blast, I have to say this wasn’t just a “for fun” workout. Marathons test your ability to keep steady and find a solid pace internally. Competitive fitness, though, pushes you to your limit and keeps you there for as long as you can withstand.

And, I’ll be honest, it was mentally trying. I nearly cried throughout, I could barely breathe, I let my mind get the best of me and screwed up exercises I should’ve been able to do. The first round had not only been competitive, but had two exercises I always hate– wall-balls and double-under jump ropes.

So, when I squeaked into the top 5, I was baffled. Still, I had about 10 minutes to get over that amazement, and fortunately the semi-final round had exercises I love: farmer carry (aka run as fast as you can carrying 90lbs, which I love), KB cleans, shuttle runs, burpees. This was my time to shine.

While I loved the girls I was competing with, there was this sense of inadequacy on my part– these girls were LEGIT, and I felt not at all prepped for this. What was I doing here? I was going to humiliate myself, and maybe I had to be okay with that.

Then, during the farmer’s carry, I started gaining on the woman who had placed in front of me. Then, the doubt and pain cleared from my mind and said, “This is yours if you want it. This is what you have created your body to do.” 

At that point I broke out from my steady walk to a jog, 45 lbs plates in each hand. I smiled internally as I realized that, even though I kept thinking I couldn’t do this, I just… kept doing it.

My boyfriend was very sweet and came to watch me compete that morning. He’s never actually seen me race or work out competitively, so I was interested to see what he thought.

He was sweet and supportive throughout the whole race, and watched the finals with me (I finished a close fifth in the top-5 round, which I was very happy with). After, he mentioned how hard it must be when you see someone like the top girl, Lauren, in the competition. “I mean, you have to know you’re probably not going to win once she enters.”

My answer surprised me. “I think most of us know that we’re not going to win when we enter. I know I didn’t.” And I really hadn’t. I had been amazed even to make the top five. I had put myself through this, truly, just for fun. There was no belief that it was about the win or the prizes (though I did get a cool water bottle), just a question to be answered: Can I do this?

This morning, I woke up and EVERYTHING hurts. My shoulders, my lower back– everything aches from yesterday.

Still, I can’t help but smile when I think about that moment yesterday: This is what you have created your body to do.

I thought that again this morning when I looked in the mirror, my muscles flexing and moving under soft curves that I also love. I don’t feel good about my body lots of days, but I sort of can’t help but appreciate it the day after a tough race like yesterday’s.

There is so much marvelous ownership in that. So much power in that feeling– knowing that not only did my body survive, but thrived because of the work it has put in. I can’t help but feel that’s why any of us– especially women– get out there and lift heavy or run far and fast: our body is the body divine. My body is my own, and I can mold it into whatever I dream. What amazing and ridiculous thing can I teach it to do next?

Comments and Kindness: Loving My Body (And Yours)

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The problem with social media (that I knowingly accept) is that sometimes opinions from people you’d normally ignore get thrust right into your face.

the struggle was real.

the struggle was real.

So, I was looking at the photo (right) that my boyfriend posted of me last night. After some joking, wespontaneously splurged on a giant, ridiculous sundae to share while out to dinner (surprisingly well priced!) between the two of us. Obviously, we didn’t finish it, but it was pretty darn good and a rare indulgence that made us laugh. We looked at the series of the two photos next two each other and laughed even harder.

The next  morning, there was a comment that the sundae was loaded with “unwanted calories,” (my reaction) and that I should “try a kale salad instead” to feel better.

Oh.

Now, sure. Eating healthy is really important, and I don’t dispute the claim– eating healthy really will make you feel better over time. I eat pretty healthy. I love kale, I drink green smoothies (my 9th graders often comment on my “salad drink”), and if you know me at all you probably know that I like working out a lot.

Still, something about the message really annoyed me. While there’s always room for improvement, I think I’m in pretty good shape. Also, what’s wrong with indulging sometimes? Nearly any dietician or nutritionist will tell you that the occasional indulgence is part of a balanced life. While it’s important to be healthy, life is short, so I firmly believe that we should enjoy it. Sometimes that means going nuts on a giant sundae on a random Wednesday.

Why did this bother me so much? I don’t know this person. Their opinion doesn’t matter to me. I have every rational reason to ignore it.

Then, it hit me: despite all my reasoning, the comment still made me feel bad about myself. I felt guilty for eating the sundae. I took a little longer in the mirror this morning and asking if I looked okay. Like a lot of runners and (unfortunately) women, I can be a little neurotic about my weight and body. This post only made me think about that more. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten the sundae. Maybe I should’ve said no.

And some of that is on me. Guilt is a choice we make. Disliking yourself is a choice. I know I can (and hopefully will) brush off these comments. I was mad at myself for not living up to my own standards of loving your body and, frankly, brushing off the negativity.

This is where I think empathy is such an essential thing– both for me towards this commenter and for whoever makes the comment. I don’t doubt they had decent intentions in saying this. Or maybe they don’t think it’s a big deal. So I want to let it go.

It points out something that I think we struggle with in the fitness community though. There’s a trainer I love at my gym  who prefaces much of his advice (when asked) with this (paraphrased): I don’t know everything and you can do whatever you want. When you get to be good at something, you want to start sharing that with other people. You get excited and hyped and when you see something that you feel you know about, you want to share that knowledge. I get it, and sometimes do it too. But unless I were someone’s specific doctor, nutritionist, coach, or they asked for advice, telling someone how to live should probably stay off-limits. We don’t know what that other person is dealing with, how much progress they’ve made so far, previous medical history or frankly what they need. I can give my best guess on, let’s say, running advice based on years of anecdotal evidence, but fitness and how to “be fit” is a relative benchmark and  topic that is still hotly debated, even amongst people who ARE experts.

Finally, it reminded me that we should be thoughtful about the things we say to other people, and it’s even harder to do online. It’s easy to quickly and breezily type and post a comment and not think how it will affect the other person– we don’t see their face or their immediate reaction to it. Even with good intentions, it’s hard to read what a person will be willing or is able to hear if you’re not in front of them. So, even if you meant it to be helpful, you may end up doing more harm than good.

So, all I will do is smile, and not beat myself too much about the sundae I had or the way I feel after. I spend much of my life thinking about calories, fitness, running, and body fat percentage, and appreciate the break to just enjoy an indulgent thing with someone I love. Instead, I’ll just focus on how much the evening made me laugh, and how blessed I am to have so much love in the world.