body image · fitness · Guest Post · weight loss

not my resolution; thoughts on January weight loss from a cheerful chubster (guest post)

I celebrate not only the Gregorian new year, but the Jewish one, plus the all the new moons and witch holidays. I love an opportunity to reflect on how things are going, and to think about what I’d like to shift. I have planted my intentions with seeds, and watered them with wishing well water. I have written myself notes and ceremonially burned them. I have mailed myself letters for the future. I have gotten tattoos to remind me of lessons I am still working on learning.

All this to say that New Years resolutions should be right up my alley…but they’re not, because more often than not, the way the dominant (white, North American) culture approaches these resolutions is through stunning self-effacement.

I will erase myself and overwrite a better version of me (who I am is wrong)!

I will stop all my bad habits (stop employing my coping mechanisms)!

I will become better, faster, and stronger (suddenly demand more of my body than ever before, and expect it to cooperate without injury or protest)!

I will lose weight I will lose weight I will lose weight (I am too much)!

In truth, I believe in body autonomy over nearly anything else, so I actually think it’s fine to want to lose weight (or gain it! or change your body in other ways!); and you sure don’t need my permission to make a resolution for yourself.

What I want is for us to get value-neutral about body size and about food. I sometimes err on the side of YAY FAT because the opposite voice is so loud and omnipresent, but legit what I think would be the best is if everyone got to decide for themselves what felt right and good and healthy and hot for their own body, and we got to be less fettered by literal constant messaging that thin bodies are sexy/healthy/desirable/virtuous and that fat bodies are lazy/unhealthy/unloveable/a project that can never be abandoned. My body is not a problem to be solved. It is not a disease, and I need no cure. I’m just fat (and honestly, I’m kind of into it).

I do workshops about body image with young people at a TRULY AWESOME summer camp. As an opening exercise, I give everyone paper and a pencil, and I ask them to make a list, as long as they can, of things they love about their bodies. I give an additional prompt that folks can think about a) how their body looks, b) how their body feels, and c) things their body can do. Then we sit in silence for a few minutes and I watch these strong, smart, powerful, visionary youth struggle to think of something, anything, they like about their bodies (I promise the workshops get less depressing from there).

Here is a short list of a few of the things I love about my own body, to use as reference or inspiration in case you decide to try this exercise for yourself (and I recommend that you do)!

soft belly/ juicy butt/ impressive armpit hair/ truly amazing for being the little spoon/ summertime freckles/ cute little feet/ dexterous fingers let me knit fast/ my eyes change color/ multiple orgasms/ strong legs/ strong bones (never broken one)/ general sturdiness/ great lips (for coating in lipstick)/ soft skin/ cool hair/ tattoos/ being a shorty means I always have enough leg room on trains on in the backseat.

I could go on (it miiiiiight get a little more NSFW if I did).

At this time of year, it seems like there is a big, resounding WE ARE ALL IN THIS TOGETHER thing ringing through the air about disciplining our bodies into something different, and folks, I am not in this with you. This is not a universal project. It can be yours; but don’t you dare suggest that it should be mine.

This doesn’t mean I love everything about my body all the time. I sure don’t. But I want to love most of it most of the time, and I am way more interested in working towards that goal than towards the utterly Sisyphean one of making my body conform to the standards expected of me.  Not only is that unattainable, it’s not actually what I want! I have come to love the physical power that comes with living in a larger body, and I don’t want to give it up. My body is extremely well suited to standing firm, holding fast, and comforting people I love. These are precious gifts.

If you want, even as a tiny thought experiment, to try on body positivity or body neutrality, or whatever words you want to give to the deliberate shifting of how you evaluate and understand bodies (yours and other people’s), here are some ideas of ways forward. YMMV, and I support you in the struggle, however it goes.

1. If someone you care about announces that they have lost weight- instead of leaping to congratulate them, first ask- “how does that feel for you?” (or something like that) and listen to the answer.

2. Don’t talk shit about your own body. See what happens if for 24 hours, or a week, or a month, you don’t speak out loud (even when you are alone) a single disparaging comment about your body (it can hear you). You may even owe it an apology (or several million of them). Might that be delivered by a massage? A pie? A love letter to your abundant thighs? A thank you note for every orgasm you’ve ever had? A long slow run through a wooded area? Several glasses of cool water with lemon? Acupuncture? Doritos? A nap? What is your body asking you for?

3. Make whatever choices feel right to you about what you eat, but don’t then coat them in a veneer of virtue. Your food is not “clean” (my food is not dirty). Your food is not “good” (my food is not bad). Your food is right for you, and that is awesome. Avoid the “cupcake? I couldn’t possibly!”s and the “I’ll have to work this off later”s. Eat what you eat, don’t eat what you don’t eat, and don’t shit on someone else’s pulled pork sandwich.

4. Try taking an appreciative approach to your body. What are the things you love about it, and how can you cultivate those (rather than trying to erase or modify the things you hate). This might lead you to the same actions- for example – if you want to be smaller, you might decide to dance more. If you love how your body feels when you dance, you might decide to dance more. Even with the same result, I promise doing the thing will feel differently if you’re doing it from a place of cultivating love and connection with your body rather than punishing it for existing too much.

5. Fake it. Fake that you think you’re hot as fuck. Fake that you “can pull off” that dress. Faking is actually doing, in a lot of circumstances, and eventually it might not feel like faking.

6. Make a change to the kinds of images of bodies you are exposed to. Find a blog or an instagram account or a porno (or twelve) that shows different kinds of bodies (fat bodies! hairy bodies! genderqueer bodies! disabled bodies! bodies with scars! bodies with stretch marks! bodies like yours) like, having fun. Wearing cute shit and going to the aquarium. Wearing sexy things or doing sexy things. Doing sports or dancing. Notice your own judgements, and try to let them go.

7. Get mad! Get mad about little kids who refuse to eat because their fear of being fat is so visceral. Get mad about the multi-billion dollar weight loss industry that is SO INVESTED in us hating ourselves. Get mad about Oprah repping Weight Watchers. Get mad about the misogyny that is embedded in a deep societal hatred of bodily squishiness. Get mad about how much we could all accomplish if we spent as much energy learning Russian or ASL or solving mathematical equations or cuddling our small humans or making soup for our sick friends or starting a small business or dismantling the prison industrial complex as we did picking apart our bodies and planning their (partial) demise.

Good luck with whatever goals you set for yourself; I’m already proud of you.
carly
Carly is a 32 year old white genderqueer femme. She is a freelance workshop facilitator in Toronto, mostly working on community building, body autonomy, intersectionality, queer sexual health, trauma survivorship, and keeping people alive. She likes roasted vegetables and bitter foods, and hates cantaloupe and anything gelatinous. She thinks that leopard print is a neutral and that prisons should be abolished. She is also a tarot reader- think of it as single session therapy, with a witch! Find out more at www.tinylanterntarot.net.
fitness

Loving and Forgiving Ourselves

I know too many writers who struggle with writing. That’s what led me to my “Fitness and the Pomodoro Technique” post the other day. Because so much of what we get in the way of writing tips applies equally well to fitness, to life in general.

And so it is today. This post, Writing Begins with Forgiveness: Why One of the Most Common Pieces of Writing Advice Is Wrong,” talks about the role of shame and forgiveness in writing.  It made the rounds today.

What’s the common piece of writing advice that the author thinks is wrong? The advice to write every day. I’ve long known this is not the right advice for me. Why? Because it sets up an unreasonable and even undesirable expectation.

The author links that expectation to shame, a huge impediment to creativity:

Here’s what stops more people from writing than anything else: shame. That creeping, nagging sense of ‘should be,’ ‘should have been,’ and ‘if only I had…’ Shame lives in the body, it clenches our muscles when we sit at the keyboard, takes up valuable mental space with useless, repetitive conversations. Shame, and the resulting paralysis, are what happen when the whole world drills into you that you should be writing every day and you’re not.

We could equally say this about any fitness pursuit. Shame stops us in our tracks. Yes, “the creeping, nagging sense of ‘should be,’ ‘should have been,’ and ‘if only I had.'” Shame is not a motivator and doesn’t help us at all. How about starting with forgiveness?

Beginning with forgiveness revolutionizes the writing process, returns it being to a journey of creativity rather than an exercise in self-flagellation.  I forgive myself for not sitting down to write sooner, for taking yesterday off, for living my life. That shame? I release it.

We could use more of this where our workouts are concerned.

Remember last week when Sam and I got to guest lecture in the Women’s Studies class, The Body, and I talked about fitness and the normative body?  Since then, I’ve heard from a few people in the class get in touch with me to say that the lecture really hit a chord. Their stories are heart-breaking because I can relate all-too-well to what they’re going through, having been there myself when I was in my twenties.

One student told me she’d had a real epiphany about her addictive relationship to working out, and how unforgiving she is both when she is working out and when she misses a workout. There is a total absence of joy in her experience.

Another wrote to say that she too hates her workouts and is using them solely to achieve the body she sees depicted in fitspo, her main source of fitness inspiration. Not surprisingly, the only motivation she feels from fitspo is from the body-shaming it encourages. Beside the fitspo images, normal bodies are imperfect and unacceptable–weak, soft, undefined. And so we respond to it with punishing and joyless workouts that are a means to an unattainable end.

I also heard from someone training for a marathon. She said, “I really listened to what you said about running a marathon, that the important thing is finishing, not how your body looks when you do it.” And she’s going to return to workouts she likes to do, recognizing that she’ll be in better mental and physical shape if she does what makes her happy.

I have to say, I’m more than a little bit pleased to get messages from students who are able to view their own experience in the context of what we talk about in class and take steps to release themselves from self-imposed prisons (we talked about the panopticon in class). That is the beauty and power of feminist research — it actually has an impact on real women’s lives.

So back to self-forgiveness. Imagine if we approached our workouts (and our writing), not from shame over the bodies we have and the need to punish ourselves into shape, but instead from self-forgiveness and self-love.

It’s okay that I didn’t make it out to the pool on Tuesday morning. There is nothing wrong with me just because I’m finding life too stressful to add a Saturday morning bike class to my schedule. I can forgive myself for having a body that appears to be resistant to change in its ratio of lean mass to fat.

These days, I get a really great feeling from the workouts I do. My long runs with friends on the weekend are more like coffee dates than chores.  My personal trainer pushes me hard but I get a kick out of it and I’m getting stronger. When I do make it to the pool, I feel energized from the swim and from the camaraderie I experience with the other swimmers in my lane. I’m even enjoying bike class every Tuesday, despite that I feel like I’m dying a lot of the time. Knowing I’m not dying and that I can actually do this — it’s totally rewarding, so much more gratifying than when I used to be preoccupied with how each workout might translate into a smaller number on the scale. I can honestly say that I am doing nothing I hate these days. And that’s a huge change from twenty years ago, when workouts were to be endured not enjoyed, means to an end not fun and energizing.

To the young women from The Body who reached out to me with your personal stories, thank you!  As all of us do, you have every right to do things you enjoy.

 

Aikido

Putting my beginner pants on

image

All sports have their seasons, a rhythm to their year. Outdoor soccer, brief break, indoor soccer. Cycling on the trainer for miles, cycling for speed and intensity after the base is built, training camp, and then outdoors.

Aikido too has a rhythm to the training year usually following testing. We train for new belt tests, reviewing curriculum over and over again, we test, we celebrate, and then we break from curriculum and do wild, fun, less scripted stuff.

But this Aikido club has another factor that influences what we do and when, new members. People either join our club directly or through a city recreation program. The program is for a set number of weeks and we can get as many as ten or twelve new people at a time that way.

When that happens we often start from square one. Our Sensei this week told us it was time to put out beginner pants on. He instructed us to learn like a beginner with no expectations, no bad habits, and to start from scratch. Tonight’s class, for example, focused on just a few very simple techniques. Front strike, first control pin number one and two took most of our time.

Those techniques are on the very first belt test with techniques. Everyone wearing a coloured belt can do them in their sleep. And this class we did them over and over again, breaking them down into small steps, the Yoshinkan way, stopping at each stage to correct techniques.

The senior black belts smiled.

It felt like polishing the rust off, getting back to square one, the basics. We reviewed basic movements and then practiced focusing on how the basic movements of Aikido form the foundation of the martial techniques.

The brand new people in their sweatpants and yoga pants were smiling too. By the end of the class they were pretty good at front strike, first control pin number one.

I think putting your beginner pants back on is hardest for those of us in the middle, anxious to show off what we know. I struggled a bit the first dozen times through. We worked with the same partner all night and we were both a bit out of sorts. We can do this technique. It isn’t on our next test. Let us do something harder.

Frequent corrections from senior belts though made it clear I still had lots to learn. Back to square one. By halfway through the class I was smiling too. When you do the same technique over and over again you rely less and less on muscle and brute force and more and more on taking the other person’s balance and using their energy and momentum against them.

I’d put that technique deep into muscle memory, every piece of it ready to use if needed. I’d shined off the rough edges. I’d trained with the mind of a beginner.

For more on the beginner’s mind see Beginners Mind: The Art of Starting OverBeginner’s Mind, and 3 ways the “beginner’s mind” improves practice.

 

aging · fitness

Why fitness really matters: Better movement from ages 58 to 97

Tracy and I often get asked by friends–mostly academic friends–why they should care about fitness and health. And mostly we agree that you don’t have to care. It’s not mandatory. It’s really okay to think this stuff really doesn’t matter so much. You do you. And we’ve written about healthism and the politics of respectability here.

That’s my usual approach to arguments about whether fitness really matters.

But but but..I do want to say that it matters for a wider range of reasons than you might think and that some of these reasons have a connection to feminism. And that even though you think you don’t have reasons to care, you might be wrong.

So hear me out, please, all the while knowing that I agree that you don’t have to care, that it’s okay to never set foot in a gym, walk except in the mall, or lift anything other than books.

I’m going to post soon about brain health and staying sharp but today I want to direct your attention to Mike Valenti’s video about the case for fitness. His argument isn’t geared at young people. He’s talking about staying strong as you age and why that matters. The independence argument should speak to feminists, I think.

Fitness isn’t just about young people and sexy abs though that’s the way it’s mostly marketed.

Instead, it’s also about maintaining strength and functional fitness as we age. And those reasons might be the most important ones.

This video begins by noting that many people end up in assisted living facilities because they can’t perform simple actions like getting themselves on and off the toilet. That’s functional fitness and that’s the real reason to do squats.

So even if you don’t care about getting stronger or faster for the sake of getting faster and stronger, you probably do care about staying in your own home as long as possible. Maybe you hate sports. That’s okay. But you probably don’t hate the idea of maintaining your independence as you age. Maybe you hate all the focus on the way women’s bodies look. I hear you. I hate that too. But you probably do care about moving without pain.

So you can care about fitness without caring about sexy abs.

Though I have a soft spot for sexy abs too.

(And actually visible abs aren’t my thing really. That requires a pretty low percentage body fat. But muscles? I like them lots. See my post Fear of frail for details.)

 

 

fitness · training

Fitness and the Pomodoro Technique

Anyone who knows me is aware that my favorite “productivity”/time management thing in the world is The Pomodoro Technique.

It’s a simple and profound way of getting things done in small, do-able increments of time called, not surprisingly given the technique’s name, “pomodoros.”

I started using it years ago, when the only thing on their now-snazzy website was a bit of info and a downloadable free pdf that explained how it works.  It’s all about parsing out uninterrupted time for your projects. I needed (and need) it because I am a world-class procrastinator, especially when it comes to writing.

Being such an accomplished procrastinator means that when deadlines approach (and there always seem to be deadlines looming), I take to weeping and hyperventilating. Add winter to that, which I know came late and so we’ve gotten off easy but it’s wicked cold now and we’re about to get a bunch of snow, and all I want to do is hibernate.

Here’s how the pomodoro technique works (the fitness activity angle is coming, I promise). Pick a task–let’s say you have a paper due on February 1st that you’ve known about for almost two years and you can’t push the deadline anymore than you already have (it was actually due December 1st). You set your timer — that’s where the technique gets it’s name from, those kitchen timers that look like tomatoes, and “pomodoro” is Italian for tomato–for 25 minutes. That’s the length of a pomodoro. It’s so do-able. Who doesn’t have 25 minutes? C’mon, sure you do!

So you set it for 25 minutes and during the whole time the timer is counting down your 25 minutes you keep working on your task, uninterrupted. If someone wants to interrupt you, you tell them to come back after 25 minutes. Because after that first pomodoro, you get a little 5 minute timed break to do whatever you want. And then you do another pomodoro. And another 5 minutes. And two more pomodoros. By the end of four in a row, you can take a longer, 15 minute break. But you don’t have to do four in a row. Sometimes one is good enough, depending on the task.

I’m not giving away any secret that they only tell you if you pay money. Their website outlines the basics of how to get started with the technique.

You can be amazingly productive in these 25 minute chunks. I’ve written whole articles and book chapters using this method. In fact, I used something similar, called “the unschedule,” which divides work time into 30 minute chunks and puts a limit of no more than 5 hours a day on your project, to write an entire book (and revise it from beginning to end too).

I know you’re all smart and savvy feminists, so by now you are probably seeing the fitness angle in all of this. It came to me when I was running with friends the other day and complaining about how I’m not getting enough running into my week. “Maybe,” I said, “if I just zip downstairs (to the exercise room in my condo because, yay, I got to move in finally after 4 months of temporarily having to live elsewhere) and spend 25 minutes (=one pomodoro) on the treadmill at some point during the week, that will be just the thing.”

Because (see above) who doesn’t have 25 minutes to do something? It’s in keeping with my whole “do less” approach.

One of the biggest reasons people don’t get their workouts in, or don’t start any sort of workout program in the first place, is purported lack of time. But the idea behind the pomodoro is that giving some activity or task our sustained attention for 25 minutes can make a world of difference.

It’s not just about being productive at work, though it’s really great for that too. There are even apps that will count down your pomodoros for you.  I use this one.

And don’t think you need to read the book or the pdf to get started. The amazing simplicity of the technique is that it distills down to just what I explained. I starting using it five minutes after I read about it and never had to read that pdf to make it work for me. But you can buy the book in hardcover or as an e-book too.

If you’re struggling to find time to get a workout in, try scaling back to a pomodoro or two.  Let us know how it goes. Or if you have some other tips for fitness time management/productivity, please share about them in the comments.

cycling

On doing difficult things…

mm

I strike a lot of people as pretty fearless but those who know me know that some things make me nervous. Not fast outdoor bike rides necessarily, but strangers, people I don’t know, they can make me hesitate.

I’ve been thinking of trying the MEC indoor bike trainer class on Sunday mornings. And my friend Cathy went last week and posted about it on Facebook. Tempting!

It’s 2 hours long, bring your own trainer, and ride away in the store before it opens Sunday morning. But this week there’d be no Cathy. My partner Jeff declined. He’s singing in church. Nat wasn’t keen on the early morning, the length of the class, and the need to wear clothes around strangers.

So just me. Alone.

With me it was just the stranger part that put me off.

I did all the usual pre-commitment stuff to get myself out the door. I put the bike and the trainer in the car the night before. Check. I registered and paid in advance. Check. I laid out bike clothes and my heart rate monitor strap, found and charged my Garmin, and packed my bag. Check. Finally, I went to bed early.

And no surprise really, it was all fine.

The instructor Marten was terrific. There was a class of about 15 people, mostly men but some women. And a pretty good mix of people including a woman on a hybrid bike using a trainer, something I’ve never seen before in a trainer class. The age range was big, probably mid-20s to mid-70s.

You can see the workout profile up above. Warm up with fast spinning to wake everybody up, then 6 blocks of 10 min work with recovery in between, and then to wrap it all up 12 sprints. I love sprinting but that was a lot. Four 30 second sprints with 30 second recovery, and then four 20 second sprints with 20 second recovery, and finally, ouch, ouch, ouch, four 10 second sprints with 10 second recovery.

No barfing but I might have been close. Let’s just say that we worked out by the Toblerone chocolate aisle–Cathy warned me–but I wasn’t the least bit tempted!

Luckily I didn’t have to carry my bike and trainer back into the house. I can count on a teenager wanting to borrow the car and I make bringing in my bike and trainer a condition of using the family vehicle.

Tough class but good tough. And I’ll definitely do it again!

 

fitness

Taking The Bus: When financial and fitness advice converge

[Note: An older version of this post took its title from the Jonathan song below, “You’re Crazy for Taking the Bus.” Love that song and the sentiment but we are trying to use less that word around here. See Let’s stop the “crazy” talk. So I’ve retitled it. I kept the song though. Go listen. Everyday could use a little bit of Jonathan.]

It’s interesting when advice you find intriguing and compelling in one area of life spills over into another. I’m thinking here about financial health and physical fitness.

I really like Mike Evans’ Make Your Day Harder campaign:  “Medical research has shown that we’re living longer than previous generations — but we also suffer from more chronic disease, obesity, and lower self-rated health. So what can we do? To start with, we can make our days harder to get moving.”

It’s about the little things like taking the stairs, walking to run errands, or standing rather than sitting at work.

I also like the financial approach of Mr. Moustache. I don’t always follow it but there’s something great about keeping your financial needs very low, rather than struggling to earn more. and staying super flexible so that work is an option rather than a necessity. I often try to check in and see which of the many lovely things in my life have worked themselves into the baseline, become the new normal, rather than remaining as treats. I tell myself that I could happily live in a much smaller place and not drive a car. Bikes, however, are essentials.

See his financial resolutions here.

For a starters he recommends walking more and driving less.

“It’s all part, he says, of realizing that most of us can enjoy the good life on much less than most middle-class wage earners believe is necessary. He estimates that he, his wife and his nine-year-old son spend less than $30,000 a year.

“We don’t live like this to save money. We do it because it’s a happier way to live,” says the financial blogger, whose opinionated and wickedly amusing posts at mrmoneymustache.com have attracted an army of followers across the United States and Canada.”

How to spend less and get your finances in order? He recommends that you don’t focus on spending less and tracking. You’ll just feel deprived. (Sound familiar from diet and exercise advice?)

Instead, make your life harder!

“So the single best resolution for 2016 is to stop trying to make things as easy and convenient as possible for yourself, and instead shift to doing the most challenging things that your abilities allow. The idea is to force yourself to become stronger and start learning again, which brings immediate happiness. It also just happens to cost a lot less, because you don’t have as much time to pamper yourself.”

What does that mean in practice?

“For example, try walking that two kilometres to the grocery store and bringing a few things home in a backpack.Pretend you’re a hunter-gatherer and try skipping two entire meals in a row tomorrow. Instead of searching for the closest parking spot, always choose the most distant parking lot. Resolve to spend at least two hours outdoors every day, regardless of the weather. Challenge yourself to do more of your own cooking, cleaning, home maintenance, and so on. Cancel your TV series and start reading books again.”

My own steps in that direction truly are baby steps. Catherine has been blogging about everyday exercise and public transit. When I was stuck at work last week without the car and without my bike, I considered my options. Cash in pocket, it was cold and it was dark, and the desire to hop in a cab loomed large. But but but $20 is $20. And there’s the bus. I thought of Catherine.

I walked to the bus and found the right one. Hopped on and listened to students talk loudly around me. I successfully navigated the transfer and then got off at the grocery store. I bought eggs, fish, cheese, pasta, and veggies and then carried the stuff home.

Success!

I’m no Jonathan, taking the bus around the US. “Salt Lake City, everybody off!” But I am trying to make my life just a little bit harder.

cycling · fitness · Weekends with Womack

The importance of a push: getting by with a little help from our friends (and competitors)

I just stumbled on an article about professional cyclist Kathryn Bertine. In addition to being a multi-sport elite athlete, she’s also written about her experiences in several books.

Kathryn tells a story about a cycling race in which she was in a sole break—she had ridden ahead of the peloton of cyclists and was riding into the wind, which is exhausting. She started to tire:

So I started to fade and fade and fade. And I was coming back into the grasp of the peloton. And I … was just at the end of my rope physically.

What often happens after breaking away from the group in a race is that you get sucked back up into the peloton, but you’re so tired that you may not be able to maintain the speed of the group. Then you get left behind, or “spit out the back” (isn’t cycling terminology lovely?). Kathryn puts it this way:

It’s all been sapped from you, so you are just kind of on this trajectory backward, and everybody else is moving forward. And you just kind of want to scream out, “No, wait for me!”

But then Kathryn felt a hand on her back:

And as I am kind of sailing back through the peloton, almost about to be spit out the back — and that would be the end of my day — I felt this hand on my back and in cycling that is regarded as a push. I couldn’t imagine who this could be. Who would be helping me in this manner?

One of her competitors was giving her a helping hand, a push.

push

The hand belonged to a rider named Evelyn García, who is on the El Salvador national team. She probably weighs about 50 pounds less than me. She’s this tiny, tiny rider. Sometimes a second or two is all you need in cycling. And it saved me. I think physically I was able to stay in the peloton but also emotionally, too. Kind of someone saying, “Hey, I recognize what you’ve done and I’ve got your back.”

I love this story, not because it is an extraordinary one, and not because I think that helping your competitor is always required. But it’s a great reminder that everyone can use a push sometime, and everyone can offer a push sometime.

I did a cycling road race in Rhode Island about 9 years ago, where the women’s field was open– that means all categories of female cyclists were in my race.  What this also means is that the least experienced racers (Cat 4 in my case) got dropped like rocks in the first quarter mile (of an 18-mile race).  So there I was, slogging my solitary way down the road, trying to keep the next woman ahead of me in my sights.

All of a sudden I heard a whooshing sound– the men’s Pro/1/2 field (which was doing multiple laps of the course and started ahead of us) came up.  They swarmed around me and I was caught up in the peloton.  It is against the rules to mix in with another field during a race, but there wasn’t room for me to stay out of their way, and the sheer physics of the situation took over.  I turned to the rider next to me and said I couldn’t get out of the way, that I had been dropped from my field, so I wasn’t a contender in my race.  He smiled, put his hand very lightly on my back, and said, “oh, it’s fine.  Just tuck in and enjoy the ride.”

And I did.  It was exhilarating– I was riding at least 24 miles an hour and barely had to pedal at all.  My magic carpet ride lasted less than a minute, and then the road kicked up a bit.  The peloton glided past me, headed down the road.

That feeling stayed with me throughout the race, and I can still remember how great it was to be a part of it.  I’ve had similar feelings on group rides, both as the helper and helpee.

Social connections are important in any physical activity. Understanding their nuances, learning how to be a good and responsible participant, discovering new roles to play over time as abilities and interests shift— all of these things enrich my experiences of doing sports and physical activities.

Each sport or activity also has its own rules (explicit and implicit), and as we begin new ones, there’s a lot to learn about them. I’m starting scuba instruction next month.  I blogged about my first experience with it here and am looking forward to learning not just how the equipment works (obviously rather important) but also how to dive with others in safe and fun ways—as a beginner, and when I have more experience under my (weight) belt.

I’m also restarting bike training this winter, and as a push for myself I signed up for PWA’s Friends for Life Bike Rally. I got a little push from Samantha by inviting me and others to join, so thanks, Sam! I officially joined a team that includes a bunch of the Fit is a Feminist Issue bloggers and friends. And I’m sure I’ll need some pushes—both physical and mental—during that long ride. We’ll see what I can offer in the way of pushes for others. One thing I can guarantee—you can get on my wheel on the downhills…

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Sat with Nat

The funny thing about posting workouts on social media

My sister and I were talking on the phone and she teased me. “You and your selfies or it didn’t happen! You are working out all the time!”

 
 From my perspective I see all the workouts I didn’t hit, the missed runs, the days without the workout selfies. 

I think about Sam’s plan to schedule lots of workouts, knowing she’ll miss some. I think about Tracy’s idea of scheduling only the ones she knows she’ll make. 

I’m not much for schedules or sticking with a plan for long. The plan is always so much more appealing in theory. Designing the plan is fun, sticking with it, BLAH!

I’m also trying to listen to my body.  With slippery walking commutes, taking the stairs at work and spinning more my glutes are on fire. 

It’s funny, now that so many people know when I get my workouts in I’m feeling more accountable but feeling ok with the balance I’m finding. 

Hope your workouts are going well!

cycling · Guest Post

Confessions of a GPS Head Case (Guest Post)

mary
Ledge surfer trail with cholla in foreground, saguaros on the hills

GPS weighs me down, physically and mentally. I pick my way up the technical rocky climb with more rocks on my right and prickly pear cactus on my left. I’m on my mountain bike, riding a route with about 50 others, to raise money for the Arizona Trail. AZT is the cross-state trail from Mexico to Utah.

It’s called a Jamboree, but right now, it’s no party. The 50 riders are spread over time and space. My riding buddy Lee and I started late and we’re following the designated route, but might bail out early.

I’m way too much in my head, and not enough in my body. GPS is on my mind. Later, when I plug the unit into the tracking website I will see how fast I went, distance, competitively compare myself to other women who have ridden designation segments along the route. I have an outdoorsy GPS unit, no sleek pocket-sized cell phone clone is tough enough for me. My unit is made for mountain biking or wilderness hiking or whatever adventure the burly rubberized shell transmits through the palm of its aspirational owner.

I’ve stashed the bulky unit into my backpack’s  exterior pocket.

So I wonder about how fast I’m going, where’s the top of this climb? And we reach two young women, one of whom holds records for the Arizona Trail and the Great Divide Ride—she’s been fastest across the state and across the continent. Oh, and she’s riding a single speed bike, no need for all those extra gears to make things easier. Intimidation sets in. They stopped to take pictures, we all chat. I watch them ride away, easily pedaling and picking their way through stone drop-offs and twists of this trail nicknamed “Ledge surfer.”

I take a couple pictures with my GPS unit, and continue riding and sometimes walking with Lee. It’s a big cocktail party of a ride, we meet up with people going both directions, chat, and I know I’m not going to be top ten of any segment.

Later in the ride, I reach for the unit again to take picture of a perfect Arizona winter landscape: saguaro cacti, red rock cliffs, deep blue sky.

My GPS is gone! It bounced out of my pack somewhere along the trail. So I’m mad because it’s expensive to replace, and I can’t track myself anymore. But that’s also a relief. Now it doesn’t matter how fast I ride because the ride will never be posted on the website.

Soon after, the Jamboree route designers catch up to us on the trail. They are also legends of bike-packing in Arizona and the Great Divide. Lee knows them well and we chat briefly as they bounce down another rocky trail that I am hike-a-biking.

But then, sweet relief: a flowing trail where we weave in and out of a cholla cactus forest, up and down small rubbly hills. I follow the orange backpack ahead of me and enjoy the ride, the late afternoon sun shining on distant mountain ranges across the valley.

I’m riding with my dream team of local mountain bikers, we’re all just biking. Just being.

We head back to the trail head, through a “snowbird” RV resort. It’s one hundred or so sardine-parked RVs from the Yukon, Wisconsin, Minnesota and the rest of the frozen north. We hit the asphalt road for the final couple miles to the trailhead.

I’ve forgotten about GPS, I don’t care how far I’ve ridden or how fast. I just spent six hours biking on awesome trails, outdoors in my beautiful desert, in the sunny January of the Tucson Mountains.

Here’s the Arizona Trail Jamboree 2016 map and gpx routes if you ever want to ride 25 or 35 miles east of Tucson.

Here’s link to a pdf of all the trails in Tucson Mountain Park

[PS: Another rider found my GPS unit on the trail, so I have it back, and my competitive spirit lives on.]