I have an unusual way of measuring my progress with sparring in Taekwondo. It’s not counting strikes or kicks, nor is it about my reaction time or about whether I win a round. It’s about how much I apologize.

When I first started in sparring, I would apologize a lot, especially if I was fighting another woman. However, I’ve noticed that over the last couple of years, I have stopped apologizing so frequently. Obviously, if I hurt someone, or if I don’t have good control for a particular strike, I will apologize, but I don’t wince or say ‘sorry’ nearly as often as I did when I first started.

It’s intimidating to fight in a ring. It’s even intimidating to do drills that require hitting someone over and over. I have never been one for consciously buying into the notion that women are supposed to be ‘nice’ but that sort of social training is insidious and it is hard to shake. I saw it in myself, and I still see it in some of the women I spar with now.

Play fighting is something that is accepted in boys. It’s seen as a ‘natural’ sort of behaviour and is almost encouraged, or, at least, not particularly discouraged. Girls, on the other hand, are strongly discouraged from that sort of physical play. That can leave us at a disadvantage should we ever end up in a physical confrontation – our bodies don’t get much practice at dealing with the stress of a fight.

That social correction against women fighting can even happen in Taekwondo class, where we are supposed to be training to fight, I sometimes get called ‘vicious’ for perfectly acceptable strikes that don’t even hurt my opponent. This isn’t a situation where anger gets the better of me in the heat of the moment or anything like that, it’s just regular sparring practice. I’m focused and determined, and looking for an opportunity to score a point, and I get behaviour-checked for not being a ‘nice girl.’ I don’t think they do it on purpose. If you were to ask them, I’m sure they would say that they are just kidding, and that my strikes were perfectly fine. Still, though, some subconscious part of them is saying that I ‘shouldn’t’ do this and that subconscious part has to speak up.

I do my best not to have that sort of ‘nice girl’ expectation of my opponents, though. I even have a prepared response for when one of them apologizes in the ring – ‘I’m at Taekwondo, not cake decorating class. I’m expecting to get hit.’ (No disrespect intended to cake decorators, it’s just not a context where you expect to get into a fist fight.) That usually puts them at ease, at least for the moment, our practice continues and we both keep improving.

Learning to be a good martial artist is tough. There are a lot of skills involved and it takes a long time to put them together effectively. Those skills have to be tested or you won’t be able to apply them to defend yourself in the real world if you need to. Ring sparring is a key part of that testing – even if it is just to get over the unfamiliarity of being in a fight.

It’s unfair that many women have the extra challenge of unearthing and dismissing the social conditioning of being a ‘nice girl’ before they can really improve their fighting skills. It’s worth the effort though, I can feel the difference in my abilities since I have been working to let that social expectation go, and it is a lot easier to be in the ring. I still have a lot of work to do – especially on my reaction time- but now that I have cleared that one obstacle, I can focus on developing my skills instead of getting distracted by trying to be ‘nice.’

KIYA!

Yesterday Sam asked people to weigh in about whether she should replace her FitBit. It’s not working properly and she still has some time to go in the summer step challenge. The thing is, Sam likes tracking. And I can appreciate that. She said she knew what I would say (meaning, she knew I’d say, “Noooooooooooo!”).

But I would only say no to the question, “Should, I, Tracy, get a FitBit and start tracking everything all the time?”  For Sam, my answer is different. In fact, if she likes tracking (and she does; she’s a data hound) and it doesn’t have a negative impact on her attitude about herself (and she’s so darn well-adjusted that it doesn’t), then yes she should. Why suffer along with broken gadgets when you can get a new one? Also, she’s about to make a very cool and upward career-move, so she can reward her accomplishments with a new shiny toy.

I’m the opposite. I lamented last week about how the 100 day step challenge is about a month too long. I find it interesting at first to get a read on my activity level. But after that I’m more like: are we there yet?

Sam said, “I think you take it all more seriously than me.” That’s very likely. It’s not that I take it super super seriously. Part of me knows that in the grand scheme it doesn’t really matter. I mean, it’s not like the teams actually win anything. And come September we’ll just move on and I’ll do what I do without counting my steps.  I’ll know when I have a “good activity” day, but I kind of know that anyway. How does being able to say “I hit 36,000 steps today” change anything?

If, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter, I don’t really need to know. So that’s kind of where I end up if I take things to their logical conclusion.

For me there is something insidious about monitoring and tracking. I have compared it to the panopticon before (an 18th Century prison design that forces inmates to engage in self-surveillance because they never know when they’re being watched). In that first early blog post, I was talking about food tracking (that’s got to be the worst type of tracking I’ve ever experienced). Sam chimed in about how she likes it in “Another Perspective on Tracking.”

We go back and forth with this issue a lot. And we’re both of the “you do you” variety. And I would never begrudge anyone their simple pleasures (like tracking gadgets).

I’ve gone even more in the other direction lately. This summer, I’ve gone out a few times without my Garmin! Just running freestyle. I didn’t even take it with me to Scotland in July and I had some amazing runs where I felt satisfied and free, not checking my pace and instead doing what felt right at the time. That pleases me and more importantly, feeds my soul in ways that external measures never do.

I blogged last week about intuitive eating and how much I like it. This is another place where Sam and I go in different directions. But the appeal of intuitive eating is consistent with my affinity for becoming aware of and following internal cues. I realize that my inner cues might sometimes be off (if I’m sick, if I’m tired, or what have you). But personally I do better when I try to live with that sort of mindful awareness for the most part.

And that’s why the idea of tracking as a way of life doesn’t agree with me. But if it agrees with you, that’s okay and I encourage you to venture out and find the right gadget for you.

So to answer your question, Sam: yes, get yourself a new one!

Does tracking as a way of life appeal to you or leave you cold (or somewhere in between?)?

By MarthaFitAt55

I started swimming again last week. The new recreation centre finally opened in my neighbourhood and after three swims, I’m hooked.

I like swimming and was lucky to have a mom who believed we should all know how to swim, given we live on an island and have inland areas dotted extensively with ponds and lakes.

So I can swim and like it, but I didn’t always get to a pool because it was not a simple thing for me to manage.

Most of the time it was because the change rooms were poorly designed. There was no space to hang your towels while you showered so everything got wet. Or the lockers were too far away and you dripped water coming and going post swim.

Or the spaces were too small and there was too many people to manage the washing, dressing, drying etc. Or the spaces catered too much to people who fit more culturally accepted norms for body types and sizes.

The new pool is a dream come true. Surrounded by windows, the pool centre is bright and airy and features a splash pad, a physio area, and a hot tub and water walking combo.

But what really makes this place special for me is that it’s obvious people put thought into the planning the change areas and the details to make the space functional.

Each area has a dedicated change cubicle and a shower cubicle that is wheel chair accessible. Regardless of the label, the showers in all the cubicles work on a push button mechanism. No twisting and no turning. The soap dispensers have a lever you push. The temperature is also set so you neither freeze nor boil.

As you approach the pool area, the pre-swim showers also operate with a simple push button. You can either use a set of wide steps or a ramp to get in the pool. If you use a wheelchair, there’s also a lift.

So it’s obvious that universal design principles have been built in. But there are other things here that make the space accessible in ways other places do not.

The pool centre has made the women’s change area three times larger than the men’s. There are gender neutral bathrooms on the outside of the gender defined change areas.

Unlike other pool centres I have been to, everyone has space they can use as they need. The private cubicles can hold at least two people so if you had a child, you could manage to corral child(ren), wash and dress all in a contained area.

In fact, the only open areas are for hair drying/combing.. Whatever your reason, if you needed a private space to change, wash, and get dressed, you have one. Some people, regardless of gender, are comfortable in open change spaces. Others are not. The new pool centre meets those needs and then some.

What I can tell you is that I have seen more senior women and more women with diverse body shapes/ sizes, etc in the pool than anywhere else I have been. By building in functionality, privacy and comfort, more doors are open for accessibility and for inclusion.

I’m interested in hearing if these sorts of things matter for you and what does it look like. And not just pools. I know gyms are also looking at how they can be inclusive and respectful of all kinds of needs. My training space for example has wide doors, a street level entrance and extra large bathrooms that can hold a wheel chair or a walker. Please share in the comments. I look forward to hearing from you!

— Martha is delighted to be back in the water and her hips and knees love it too.

Sam and I are both doing the Virgin Pulse Global Challenge, which is 100 days of counting steps as a member of a seven-person team. We’re not on the same team. She’s on Nasty Women and Bad Hombres (a team specially crafted to win and which is currently 304th globally and 1st at our university), I’m on Oh, the Humanities! (a team not specially crafted to win that currently stands at 9040th place globally and 21st at our university).

I’m doing it despite that last year I said I would never do it again. I got drawn in by FOMO.

We’ve got 15 days to go and, like last year, I’m ready for this to be over. Today it occurred to me that this 100 day challenge is feeling like a long, long event that loses its shine after a bit.  I’ve run a marathon and done other distances of running events and triathlons in the past, and they all have a similar psychological pattern to them (for me, anyway).

At the start, I feel super enthusiastic and energized. I want to be there. I like being there. It’s fun to be doing what I’m doing. I’m up for the challenge. This is the part of the race where you feel like you can do anything. That’s how I felt about the step challenge for about 6 weeks.

I was in a routine and it felt good. There were some tougher days when I didn’t do my regular walking commute and had to make a plan if I was going to get those steps. I traveled a bit, and that threw off the routine but I managed. But for about the first half, it felt pretty good.

In the middle part of a race it’s easy to lose your focus. The mind starts to wander. All the scenery looks the same. I sometimes experience boredom or a sense of doubt about why I’m even doing this. But despite all of this, I’ve still got the energy to stick to the plan.

That’s how it felt for the past month. I’ve got other things on my mind and some days I just don’t care that much about steps. I get the idea — I know that mostly it’s no problem for me to get between 15000-20000 steps in a day. But other days, like if I work at home or drive to work or go to a pool party, it requires more effort and planning. I need to go for walks or plan a 10K run or risk falling short. My mind wandered but I stuck it out.

Going into the home stretch of a race — that’s when I feel as if I want to tap out. The doubt about why I’m doing this can shift into the downright conviction that this is a useless undertaking that makes no sense. Instead of a lack of focus, the mind fixates on just one thing — finishing. This is the time in a long race that I haul out all of the affirmations I can muster. I can do this. I’ve trained for this. I’m strong and full of energy. Seriously, anything. And still, it’s a slog. I just want it to be over.

It’s day 85 of the challenge. I’m in home stretch mode. I want it to be over. It makes no sense. I’m kicking myself for allowing FOMO to motivate me to do something that I have already determined loses its luster before the end. And to top it all off, I’m about to go sailing for two weeks. And it’s hard to get steps on the boat. And I just want to enjoy my vacation.

Not that I don’t enjoy activity on my vacation. But I can start to resent goals and monitoring and tracking and all that. And that is the stuff of which the global challenge is made. I will stick it out to the end. I’m on a team and that adds to the commitment, even if my team doesn’t stand a chance of victory. At least some of my team members have had a good experience dedicating themselves to the challenge. As did I for the first bit. I guess it’s time for my affirmations.

I know we’ve asked this before, but I’ll ask again: how do you feel about tracking your steps? Is this a part of your life? A thing you do from time to time (for a time, like the 100 day challenge)? A thing you would never do because…?

Because of the blog people know a lot about the fitness-y things that I do. They say, “Oh you look great.” And that’s fine. I’ll take it. But then sometimes people go on to speculate that I am in such good health because of the fitness-y things that I do. “You take such good care of yourself!”

And then I turn red and think of nice ways to engage with the presumption that good health is worked for or deserved. Just like you can’t tell if a person is fit from how they look, you also can’t assume a person is healthy because they are doing physical activity.

In the scheme of things, I’m not that healthy. I’ve had my gall bladder out. In the course of the life of the blog, I’ve had thyroid cancer and had my thyroid removed. Both surgeries were fine. In some ways, no big deal, but still. I’ve got some osteoarthritis stuff going on too. I get a hacking cough that can last for weeks in the winter. Also, I’m visually impaired. Everything’s okay right now but I don’t feel like the healthiest person out there.

We actually have very little control over our health. You know that joke about having good parents being the most important thing you can do for your health. Genetics is huge.

Of course, get some exercise. Of course, eat your veggies. Don’t smoke. Don’t drink much. Stay connected with the world. Keep your brain working. There’s some stuff you can do that’s health promoting. But there are no guarantees.

In my post What does 74 look like? I wrote about luck, illness and disability, and aging. I talked about Jeff’s mother, one of the most healthy behaving people I’ve known and her death.

“I watched my mother-in-law go from being a happy, healthy, vibrant woman who loved hiking, swimming, and cross country skiing to bring someone who needed help with basic day to day activities in just a couple of years. The cause? ALS. Its cause isn’t known. Random genetic mutation? Doesn’t matter. Eating right and moving lots won’t prevent it.

If you saw me pushing her in a wheelchair and thought she was there because she made bad choices, you’d be wrong.”

We like to think we have control over our health. It’s good for us to believe that we do. It’s a useful lie. It motivates us to take charge of the tiny part of our health that is in our control. Yes, we can eat well and work out but there are no guarantees. I know you know this. But sometimes I think we forgot it.

This is a reminder.