Running Body

This post might sound a little cranky. Please forgive the harshness in tone. #sorrynotsorry

It is inspired by three experiences:

1. When I ran a marathon this summer, I went to pick up my race shirt. While I normally wear a size L, I had requested an XL this time because some size-L race shirts I got in the past are poor quality and run short, so they ride up while I run. Pulling them down on a run over and over wastes energy and makes me feel fat, so I don’t even use those shirts anymore. I wanted to show off my awesomeness by running in a marathon shirt, and I wanted to feel comfortable, so I ordered an XL this time, as I had done for other races. Simple. However, I discovered that there were no XL women’s shirts for the marathon—but plenty for the 5K and half distances.

Because fat girls don’t run marathons, I guess. I took the large and now have another shirt I rarely use.

2. I ran a relay race this past weekend. It was great. While at an exchange, I overheard someone gloating about seeing two chunky girls in the distance and determining to pass them—easy “kills,” as passes are called in relay-lingo. 

3. Last night my roommates, both naturally thin without any effort on their parts (as far as I can see), decided that I needed a lesson in how to not look like a sister missionary. I’ve been home for five years. This lesson turned up gasps and exasperation when I mentioned that I prefer an XL in some brands. They were horrified that I dare place anything as distasteful as an XL on my body—so much that they couldn’t, wouldn’t, hear my objections that sometimes XL is the size that fits my body. Their disgust at the fact that I sometimes wear XL was very shaming, and it digressed into them squeezing their tiny belts around my waist in an attempt to make me look more modern and “sexy.” To be fair, their words came from a good, kind place. Yet I felt unbelievably young, dominated, shamed, demeaned, patronized, inferior, and fat as they praised: “Hey, this tiny belt actually fit you! Look, I can pull four inches of fabric away from your shirt! Even we have pooches!”

Begin rant:

Sizes are numbers that help me find clothes that will fit. They do not define my physical fitness, my worth, my self-esteem, my self-control. I wear a 10 or 12 in pants, depending on the brand and style. I wear a L or XL shirt, depending on the brand and style.

I am not ashamed of any of this. I have no reason to be.

 I don't consider myself to be fat, but I am by no means a small woman. I have broad shoulders, a large chest, a big ribcage, and yes, flab.  But I have completed three+ 5Ks, three+ 10Ks, four half marathons, one relay, and one marathon. I work out every day: I swim, I run, I go to weight training classes, I do yoga and PiYo. I love my body—it is a thing of miracles. It does what I ask without complaining. My knees are strong, and my sore hips get over themselves with a foam roller. I am very, very blessed to be free from any problematic medical conditions.

So please stop commenting on what my body looks like, good or bad. If I tell you I feel fat, you don't have to hush hush away my authentic feelings and pain by telling me I'm not fat. It's OK to tell me I'm beautiful and strong and fit, that I have value beyond my physical appearance, that I'm determined and inspiring and brave. 

My body is not always what I make it. In my battle with genetics and poor childhood habits, I try to do the very best with the body that I have been given.

Can you say the same?

Those chubby girls who ran in my relay race are so much braver than you skinnies, fit or not. I used to be too ashamed to run outside because I didn’t want people to see me—a fat girl trying to run. It took so much willpower and guts for me to even start in the first place, to leave the safety of treadmills and indoor tracks to run out in broad daylight. It wasn't until this summer, after running for two years, that I felt brave enough to wear running shorts made for women. Those "chubby" girls, I assure you, worked hard to be on their relay team. They fought against a social prescription dictating that fat people can’t run. Not only that—running with additional weight is so much harder physically. You try carrying twenty or more extra pounds when you run. I can even speak from experience here—I’ve lost about twenty pounds since starting to run two years ago, and it’s much easier now.

I recognize that I have a long way to go in shaping and nurturing my body to be its best. It's great to have goals to work toward: I want to run faster, I want to have more defined muscles, I want to hold a plank longer, I want to touch my toes, I want to eat more mindfully, I want to break my addiction to sugar. But along the way I (and any other woman who struggles with weight or body image) deserve your kindness, your respect, and your cheers. Not your patronizing "compliments." Not your assuming you know more than we do about our bodies. Not your judgment. 

In sum: No one should be ashamed to wear the clothes that fit them. You don’t have to be skinny to run. Don’t assume that fat people are fat because they want to be, and don’t assume that they need your help, or that they aren’t more in shape than you’ll ever be.

If you are naturally skinny, that’s great. If you’re not, that’s great. I just think the world would be a happier place if people of all body types can stop the comparing, the judging, and the patronizing.

Myself included.

Peace.

/rant