I read a profound statement in my friend Lorin’s blog the other day (VeganAsana: Adventures in Veganism and Yoga):
“Wouldn’t it be great to always be in that place – to just live in the body and enjoy what it can do and be instead of critiquing what it is not?”
I’ve been touched by the line since I read it, and have thought much about it. It’s reminded me about my long history of trouble with body image–and the lessons I have learned about my body from exercise and endurance training.
I have had body issues of varying sorts since I was a young girl, and have struggled mightily to find that place of enjoyment without critique that Lorin wrote about. I don’t think as a woman in the United States I am alone in this struggle. Sadly, I don’t think men are exempt from these issues either. One of the significant rewards of my training is that I can sometimes find that place. Our bodies are impressive machines, despite the many imagined flaws we may perceive.
My history of body hatred begins with my birth. I was born 10 pounds 1 ounce and just kept growing. I was fat. Elementary school is a rough and tumble place, and the taunts definitely hurt more than sticks and stones. I was so very far from that place were I could live in my body and enjoy it. All I wanted was to be skinny.
But, it wasn’t until seventh grade that I figured out what I could do to be a skinny girl. One day, the teacher showed a video about the problems of eating disorders. Trouble is (in retrospect), it seemed to me an informative and useful how-to manual for becoming anorexic. Rather than scaring me (which I imagine was the intent), I was mesmerized. This was my solution! In less than two months, I shed over 35 pounds. I had lost so much weight in such a short span of time that the nurse called my house. My mom told her I was losing my baby fat–perfectly normal. Losing the baby fat was true enough. The normal part, well, not so much. I think I vaguely remember my mom having a chat with me, but I don’t think my parents really knew what I was doing.
As I started eighth grade, I was down to 100 pounds, and I was about 5′. Not terribly skinny, so I kept going. I still didn’t like my body. No one paid attention to whether I ate breakfast, so I didn’t eat it. I skipped lunch, which was easy to do. No one paid attention to that either. I ate ketchup packets to prevent the horrible headaches I would get from not eating. By dinner time, I would let myself eat a little bit, just enough to keep my parents from thinking I wasn’t eating. I was also smart enough to know that I had to eat something to stay alive. Sadly, I always regretted eating, no matter how much my stomach churned or burned. I knew that everytime I put food in my mouth, it would make my legs fatter, make my butt bigger–make my body something that I could only critique.
The summer before I started high school, I was down to about 90 pounds or so, and I was probably about 5’2″ tall. In other words, I was skinny in the eyes of everyone around me–just not in my own eyes. My arms looked like little spaghetti strands. My stomach was almost concave. But, I thought my legs were fat. My legs have always been a major sticking point for me. By this time, my friends knew something was up. They would try to force cheesesteaks and other types of junk food down my throat. But, I wouldn’t have any of it. Sometimes, I would eat in front of them, and then go throw it up or take a laxative to get rid of the food. In fact, I ate laxatives almost every day. I also drank this “super dieter’s” tea that would make you crap your intestines out. I thought it was great stuff. Seriously?!
I started running at this time. How I had the energy to run at all is a curiousity. I didn’t run far, I don’t think. Maybe 3 miles or so at a time. My friend Dawn and I discussed signing up for our high school crew team so we could be skinny. We knew that the crew girls worked out for 4 to 6 hours every day during the season, and that they worked out off-season almost as much. While the crew season starts in February, our high school also had fall season workouts. These were not required, but we thought we would make a good impression and show up.
These workouts included weight lifting, rowing on the ergometer (rowing maching), and running. I was fine for the running part. But, I could barely lift any weight at all, and rowing on the erg was difficult because I was so weak.
The head coach asked, “Do you want to be a coxswain?” (In case you don’t know, a coxswain is the person who steers the boat, motivates the rowers, etc. They sit in the stern, facing the rowers.)
I replied, “No, I want to row.”
“Well, then, you are going to have to gain some weight and get stronger.”
G-g-g-gain weight? Was he crazy? Despite the fact that I couldn’t think of anything worse than gaining weight, I really wanted to row. I was intrigued by the idea of being a strong woman. Maybe I wouldn’t be super skinny, but I could have muscles. Hmmmm. I could handle that. I started to eat a little bit more, but I also worked out a lot more as well. In the end, I started the official crew season my freshman year at about 105 pounds. I had gained weight, for sure. And, I had gotten much stronger, so much so, that I was pushed up from the novice boat to the Varsity Lightweight 8, where I stayed until I graduated. My inner athlete was born.
As I reflect back on this experience, I can’t help thinking that crew saved my life. I had gotten into a very comfortable rhythm eating about 700-800 calories a day. With crew, I started eating more like 1400-1500 calories a day. But, crew didn’t teach me to learn to appreciate what my body could do. I wasn’t there yet.
That was almost 20 years ago. In the time since I graduated high school, I continued to work out – run, bike, step class, lift weights, etc. I experienced various weight gains (from binging) and losses (from all sorts of “diets”). Through it all, I’ve pretty much hated my body. Yup, I think that hate is the right word. I especially hated my legs–why did they have to be so big? Why did they never seem to get any smaller? Suffice to say, I’ve spent most of my life not just critiquing my body, but berating it for what it is not.
Lorin’s quote reminded me of this struggle. It also helped me realize some of the progress I’ve made in my mental assessment of what my body can do. While training for my first marathon last summer, I had a moment like the one Lorin writes about. As far as I can remember, it was the first time I felt that way about my body.
During one of my long training runs, I stopped hating my legs, and I started to appreciate how strong they were. I remember looking at them, and seeing the strain of my quadricep muscles as my foot struck the ground. “Huh! Check that muscle out!” I looked around me as I ran. My legs were moving me through four cities in a single run, they were moving up and down hills, and they could get me going pretty fast (at least by my own standards). I began to appreciate what my “fat” legs could do.
Granted, these moments don’t last forever, and I don’t always have them. I still have days when I wish I was 10 pounds thinner, or I was stronger or faster — or better. I still weigh myself at least twice a day, often more. But, I’ve had more and more of these moments when I am living in my body, and liking it. And, each run, bike ride and swim brings with it the chance to be in my body, and to love it for what it can do. As it turns out, it can do a lot more than I give my fat a$$ credit for. 🙂
