I know that the blog used to be an angrier place. These days, we’re mostly pretty chill. We’ve been there and done that for most fitnessy things and trends. We’re still very much a feminist fitness blog, but I’ve noted there’s less feminist outrage around the place these days.
And yet, sometimes, some days I encounter things in the fitness world that make me go grrr.
Both of these examples come from my fancy gym, which is really quite a lovely, inclusive place. I don’t have very many feminist complaints.
But this, my friends, bugs me. It’s the lighter, smaller bar at the gym. It’s 35 lbs, rather than the usual 45 lbs, and it’s a little narrower for smaller hands.
And it’s PINK! Because of course it is. Some people, though not our personal trainer, call it the women’s bar. I’ve written before about why gender specific anything is likely a bad idea. See Why “women’s specific” anything is likely a bad idea.
It’s great that there’s a smaller bar, but there is zero reason to call it the women’s bar or paint it pink. Lots of men might prefer a 35 lb bar.
Exhibit A
The second thing is a motivational saying stenciled on a weighted bag that you carry when doing weighted lunges. I think it’s a slogan meant to push you through the hard reps.
“Don’t quit. Ever.”
Oh, gym. We need to talk.
Because here at Fit Is a Feminist Issue, we have a whole different relationship with quitting. We’ve celebrated Quitting Day with an entire series of posts. Several of us are on the record as proudly, thoughtfully pro-quitting.
Quitting isn’t failure dressed up in cowardly clothes. Sometimes quitting is the clear-eyed, courageous, correct choice. When something no longer serves you — your body, your joy, your actual life — walking away isn’t weakness. It’s judgment.
“Don’t quit. Ever.” is the kind of advice that sounds tough but is really just oversimplification. It flattens a genuinely complex decision into a bumper sticker. Not every pursuit deserves your forever. Some things deserve a graceful exit. It’s sometimes okay to quit.
But still — I love my gym
And yet, here I am, back tomorrow for personal training and maybe aquafit later in the day. Despite the pink bar and the over-the-top motivational sayings, it really is a good gym.
This month’s camping trip, at the Pinery, would normally also be about bikes, but instead we brought Cheddar along. Cheddar loves the beach. Who was on the trip?: Sarah and me, my eldest adult child Mallory and her friend Sarah, and Cheddar the beach dog!
Mallory and friend Sarah went for a swim (brrr!) but Sarah and I mostly walked along the beach, admired the sunset and the waves. It still sometimes amazes me that Lake Huron is a lake and not an ocean.
Since I’m pretty committed to not driving around the park–and it’s a very large park–that meant a lot of walking. More than 16k steps of walking. My feet are sore, but my knees are fine. This sore feet thing is new. For years, it’s been my knees that limit how far I can walk.
What else to tell you about our weekend away camping trip? We borrowed the middle kid’s luxury tent. Thanks, Gwen, Cheddar loves having room for his own bed. I love the Pinery at this time of year when it’s only partly open. So quiet. So beautiful. (Okay, also cold. It went down to 3 C at night.) We played CrossCrib, and Wizard, and Mallory’s new Library game.
10/10 recommend. Will definitely go again. We stayed in Dunes Area 1, site 79, right next to the path to the beach.
Mother’s Day (and Father’s Day) are multilayered holidays. We celebrate, remember, mourn, avoid, look forward to, revel in, ignore– our reactions run the gamut of emotions.
My own mother is almost 83 years old. Our relationship has certainly run the gamut of emotions. She has had life-long mental illness, with all the strife that brings. That is not all she has brought to our relationship, though. My memories of fun with my mom include:
learning to play tennis at age 7 with her
riding bikes out to my aunt and uncle’s house in the country
going to the beach for the day, swimming in the ocean, heading home salty and satisfied
hearing about her adventures at the new gym in town, looking forward to being old enough to go with her
swimming at the local pool in summers, her looking up from her magazine, checking on me
tent camping and cooking on a camp stove, both of which yielded mixed results
I don’t have a lot of physical activity memories of my mom from my adulthood. She became less interested in swimming, tennis, outdoor walks, and instead we would drive to local parks and gardens and walk to see what was in bloom. We still do this, and it’s a nice experience for both of us.
My adulthood looks completely different from my mother’s on multiple fronts. I’ve been more physically active, more professionally active and more socially active. I plan to continue in the same fashion, and will adjust as needed. This is something I have also learned from my mother– when circumstances change abruptly, make adjustments, course corrections. She is still navigating life with a sense of openness to change, and I want that for myself, too.
I wish us all agility and nimbleness in our course corrections, today and moving forward.
As word of my retirement got out, I started receiving invitations to do cool things on weekdays.
One of those invitations was from my friend Heather to hang out in her garden. Oh. Maybe that was “work” but I just love her vibe and I’m happy to help anyone in the garden.
I tried to remember how we met. It was probably Food Not Lawns or The Carolinian Food Forest. It was definitely around growing plants!
In addition to gardening, we share a love of crafting, especially sewing.
I was so glad I got to see Heather this week. She procured scones and we enjoyed tea as we shared our hopes for our gardens.
Heather has beautiful gardens on all sides of her house. Some plants are for pollinators, some are for eating and still others are for pure joy.
Heather shared her motto for her garden this year: little and often. I love it and have decided I too will do a little amount of things often.
On Tuesday I was getting more work done on my tattoo. Kaley shared she had been doing some chopping of roots with her wife.
“I don’t know why gardening is framed as a gentle activity. I’m always moving wheelbarrows of stuff, lifting, digging, it’s hard work!”
Kayley is very wise. I often get caught up in puttering in the garden and forget how hard I’m working. A bit of weeding and light pruning can drift to chopping down a tree and hacking away at roots. Two days later wondering why my hamstrings are sore.
“Little and often” works not only my gardening efforts but also my crafting and writing. My goal is sustainable efforts that avoid burnout or injury.
Two hours in the garden caused me some lower back pain and some tender muscles. It’s humbling that what used to be a reasonable effort is now a bit too much, at least early in the season.
So I’m changing my expectations. I’m going for 30 minutes at a time for gardening, an hour at writing, crafting and housekeeping. Small, continuous progress always yields satisfying results.
I am so glad Heather shared her motto with me.
A pretty garden with a bicycle decoration. The best things in life!
I love planners of all sorts. I have a handy purse-sized diary used for tracking work milestones, business appointments, work and family deadlines etc. I have my own online calendar and a shared one with my partner. I use monthly planning sheets to map projects. I also have a whiteboard where I map out my day. Oh, and I used to have a wall calendar where we tracked everyone’s primary activities before we moved into the online calendar.
Several years ago, after I went through menopause, I realized I had also relied on an internal calendar. I had always tracked periods but I didn’t appreciate how it helped me manage time until they finally ended.
The first change was that I had to start scheduling breast self-exams for the first of the month since I no longer had a period to remind me to check in between.
The second was the way the absence of periods restructured my whole approach to time management. While periods never stopped me from doing things, period cramps often had other plans for me. Thus I was used to planning around their possible manifestation vs. an actual period’s appearance.
The third thing was what my planning around a period meant in reality. It meant I rested; I took it easy; I treated my body with tenderness and kindness. I still got a lot done but I have given myself a lot of grace.
The internal clock meant I was multi tasking by shifting the emphasis I placed on things from one month to the next.
These days I find my electronic calendar takes on that burden. I get a reminder for my HST and tax returns, so I decided why not schedule reminders for other things too? So now my calendar has notes to remind me to make appointments for things I need to get done.
The challenge is tracking the followup. In the days before menopause, I was aware if I missed a month in terms of scheduling but the arrival of a period would signal that time had passed.
These days the signal I get is when I have had the forethought to schedule something. It’s not because my internal clock was tracking the passage of time.
So how is this connected to fitness? My calendar notes two training sessions a week. The training intervals give me a structure I can use to track my often over-scheduled life. As I look forward to retirement in the fall, I wonder what new ways I will use to track time?
Martha Fitat 55 lives and works (for now) in Newfoundland and Labrador.
I’m not big on following trends, especially those using terms like “maxxing” but this one made me laugh because I may be a trendsetter.
What is nonnamaxxing? Apparently, it’s a viral TikTok thing that encourages people to adopt the habits of an Italian grandmother, or “nonna.” Things like cooking from scratch, daily walking, gardening, long family meals, real-world social interaction and reduced screen time.
I don’t do all of these things (especially screen time), but I do love to cook from scratch, garden, go for walks or bike rides, and chat with friends.
As the Miami Herald says, movement, real food, social connection and mindset are the pillars of a nonna lifestyle.
An older woman in white shirt and pants enjoys a walk along the beach
Coordinating the blog means that a lot of the social media content that comes my way is women’s fitness-related. I get inspirational posts about fitness and how-tos, race videos and analysis, and discussions and commentary on women’s fitness and fitness motivation. However, you look at it, it’s a lot.
This weekend I was struck by two posts, and I want to know what you think about them.
If you’re new to women’s sports, you may be noticing how concerned the coverage and marketing of these leagues are with the next generation of players, the “little girls” who are watching and being inspired by their favorite athletes. When these leagues were first selling out arenas, I could maybe understand (and forgive) this focus. But as we are several years into the proof that women’s sports can sell out arena, this narrative is beginning to feel shallow and deeply sexist.
The tension between how women’s sports are being covered and how they perhaps should be covered bubbled over in last night’s post-game press conference following the Boston Fleet/Montréal Victoire matchup at TD Garden. The game had been played in front of a sold out crowd, a huge milestone for the Fleet and definitely a huge moment for the players. The game was also a matchup between the two best teams in the PWHL, with perhaps the two best goalies in the world.
The first three questions for Fleet players Megan Keller and Aerin Frankel were variations on the same question:
“Also kind of redundant, but what do you think young players can learn from the game tonight and the entire PWHL as a whole?”
“What does playing in a venue like TD Garden say about the growth of the PWHL?”
“A little redundant, but just being here and seeing the young girls with the signs, the older women who never thought they would get to see women’s sports celebrated like this—how much does a night like tonight remind you that what you’re doing is bigger than just hockey?”
At first, I thought they were exaggerating. Anyway, go read the whole post. It’s more complicated than you might think from the first slide.
We often do things for multiple motives, and surely it’s not so bad if one of those motives is to help others. I’m proud of my academic achievements and the things I’ve done in my career, but I’m also happy when young women undergraduates say they find my career inspiring. But I don’t do them to be a good role model–that’s just a side-effect of what I do. And at first, that’s how I felt about women athletes inspiring young girls to stick with sports. It’s not why they do it, but it’s a good thing that young girls are inspired.
And I began to think that women’s fitness and sports and motivation is more complicated. In the case of serious women athletes, there’s the young girls and inspiring the next generation narrative. In the case of everyday exercisers and regular women who work out, there’s the narrative about working out because it’s better for our families if we’re fit.
I thought, well, actually, what if I am exercising for me, so I can do the things I love. Is that so selfish? Is it so wrong to care about my future for me?
I’ve never thought that I should work out so my kids can look after themselves and not worry about taking care of me.
I exercise for me — so I can do the things I love, feel strong, feel capable, feel alive in my body. Not to be a good role model. Not to inspire the next generation. And definitely not so I won’t be a burden.
That last one deserves a closer look, because it comes up constantly in women’s fitness motivation, and it bothers me more than the little-girls framing does. At least “inspire the next generation” is positive and other-directed in a way that’s generous. “Stay fit so you don’t burden your family” quietly tells women our own well-being doesn’t count on its own terms. You’re allowed to care about your health — but only instrumentally, only in service of others, only so you don’t inconvenience anyone. It smuggles in a moral hierarchy where women’s needs are legitimate only when they’re actually someone else’s needs in disguise.
Whether you’ll need significant care in old age is far more about genetic luck than about lifestyle. The people I’ve known who needed the most help did nothing wrong. They ate well, they moved their bodies, they slept, they lived. Illness and decline don’t arrive as punishment for neglect. Pretending otherwise doesn’t motivate better health habits. There’s no need to add shame to an already hard situation.
So here’s what I want to say plainly: it is okay to work out for yourself. To want to be strong because strength feels good. To want to keep cycling because you love cycling. To care about your future self not because she’ll be easier for others to care for, but because she’s you, and you matter.
Women are allowed to have self-directed reasons for the things we do — in sports, in fitness, in life. That’s not selfishness. That’s just being a full person.
I think I’ve decided that 10 minutes is exactly the wrong amount of time for me.
Instead, what’s worked is breaking it up into five two-minute chunks. Two minutes is waiting for the toast to pop or for the coffee to brew. I can do two minutes while brushing teeth, or in our house, waiting for the bathroom. I can do two minutes waiting for a Teams meeting to begin. Turns out I have lots of free two-minute chunks but very few ten-minute ones.
The other thing that’s worked is habit stacking. I’ve been adding some of these stretches and mobility moves to my stretching and cool-down after personal training. I’m already on the floor, so it’s easier to add in some other moves.
I still want to be the sort of person who has ten minutes in the morning to dedicate to a mobility routine but instead I’m the sort of person, it turns out, if I have 10 minutes to spare, I’ll empty the dishwasher or climb back under the covers.
When I searched for my old post, here’s the page of videos that show up in the search results. They all look like a great idea. Maybe I need to do it for a week and see if I feel better and then do it because it feels better?
A few weeks ago, I shared my excitement about a longer run I’d done with a close friend, a runner and occasional running companion. Some context: as those of you who read my posts know, I’ve set myself the challenge of doing a 21k run once a month this year. This is a stretch, given I never ran that distance once last year and had foot surgery. It’s a challenge I think can complete. And each time I’ve set out so far this year, I’ve felt a frisson of fear. So, when I finish, I’m relieved, with a side dish of woohoo. When I shared, my friend said, with real frustration: “Every time I think I’ve done a good workout, I hear what you’ve done, and I feel like a loser.”
Crap. My first instinct was guilt. Am I a jerk? Why did I even need to say it? Did I offer the news in a showoff tone? Was my timing bad? Out for dinner on a Friday night. I am still thinking through how I might have said things better or whether I should have held off. I’m still examining my own motivations for sharing. Why do I even need to? (Even as I’m sharing my accomplishment here, too).
Sure, I know that the comparison isn’t mine to manage. Still, I don’t want to make my friend feel bad. Nor do I want to have the wind sucked out of my sails. The math her brain ran wasn’t her workout versus her goals. It was her workout versus mine. And she felt like she’d lost. And then I lost, too. Because comparison is a rigged game. Nobody wins.
This is happening all the time. Someone gets a promotion and we audit our own career, instead of truly celebrating their achievement. Someone posts a beautiful photo of themselves, and we scrutinize ourselves in the mirror, alert to everywhere the crow has stepped. The scoreboard is running 24/7 in the background, and we are behind.
I have those game announcer voices, telling me someone else has more. More success. More money. More love. More beauty. More … you name it. All of which can spiral me down the I’m not enough drain. So much noise.
When is anything enough?
I know. You know. We know. Enough is enough when we decide that it is so. We live in a maelstrom of enablers (hello social media), which inundate us with opportunities to compare and despair. The real accounting has to happen inside our own selves, or it will eat at us in perpetuity.
Our work is to find that tiny pause between the comparison and the collapse. My longtime mindfulness practice serves me here. When I give the voices space to rant and offer them gentle support. Plus, the slow accumulation of wisdom that comes from long years of repeatedly recognizing the fruitlessness of comparison.
There’s no finite supply of fitness, or success, or beauty, or achievement being divided up among us. My enough does not necessitate someone else’s not enough. Even if the voices inside our heads want us to believe that this life is a zero-sum game.
Oh, and also, when I told my youngest brother that I’d run my April 21k, he told me that he’d done seventeen (yes, 17) 21k runs already this year. Did I feel frustrated? Maybe the teeny, tiniest bit. Mostly, I thought, wow. He’s on a streak. Also, youngster!
On May 1st, I did my 21k for the month. I woke up with that pre-run anxiety. I arrived home on my doorstep with a thrill. A reminder of the joy that lives inside my body.
During the pandemic, I enoyed daily Yoga with Adriene, but it’s been a challenge ever since. That’s more about knee surgery and knee physio than anything else, for me.
But I feel like I’m moving past–finally!–the focus on knees. I’m doing new things, like skating. I’m taking some fun classes, like anti-gravity restorative fitness at Movati, and I’m going on long walks. I am so very very happy about all of that!
I’m also thinking it’s time to revisit Adriene. I miss her! I’m not going to be able to manage every day, but I thought I might try her new content each month.
