sleep · Uncategorized

Yawn: Catching zzzz’s and the politics of sleep

This week’s news. We can’t get by on 6 hours sleep a night. If you say that, you’re just kidding yourself. Also, lack of sleep is causing heart disease and cancer and Alzheimers.

Grim news, right? I have a good weeks where I get 7+ hours of sleep each night but lately I’ve been struggling. Thanks menopause and hot flashes.

Often these stories in the news talk as if the problem with getting adequate amounts of sleep were universal and it’s true we all need sleep. However, it’s also true that who gets enough sleep and why is partly about about sexism, racism, the divisions of work in the home, and the gap in income between the rich and the poor. Sleep tracks privilege.

I’ve ranted before about rich, white people whining about lack of sleep when really the sleep gap is all about race and income.

It’s not just a little bit less sleep either. Black Americans get a lot less sleep than white Americans. In fact, the difference in sleep quantity between the two groups may be enough to explain the difference in life expectancy between the two groups.

“The racial inequalities in the US are stark, but none are more damaging than the health gap between blacks and whites. On average, blacks die at a significantly younger age than whites.”

Here is a recent report on sleep differences between black and white Americans, Nobody Sleeps Better Than White People, Says Study

Thursday we learned something truly astonishing: White people, unburdened by racism, sleep pretty damn well.

According to a new report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, about 65 percent of Americans polled said they usually get at least seven hours of sleep per night, the benchmark recommendation. It’s self-reported data, not confirmed with any kind of tracking, but it’s fairly consistent with other estimates, the CDC says.

When the responses were broken down by race, they found that non-Hispanic whites had the highest rate of healthy sleep duration, at 66.8 percent. Close to 66 percent of Hispanics got seven-plus hours, as did 62.5 percent of Asians and 59.6 percent of Native Americans. Black people were at 54.2 percent, and multiracial people were at the bottom, with 53.6 percent. Overall, people who were employed and college-educated slept better, too.

Sleep and our lack of it is both anxiety producing and deeply connected to other kinds of oppression and injustice.

At the same time, we’re also in the midst of unbelievable sleep marketing aimed at the wealthy and the health conscious. I don’t mean to mock individuals but the imperative to sleep is commercialized in ways that target and discipline there anxious and the well off.

Do soul cycle spin classes, visit the yoga studio, see your personal trainer, and now be sure to schedule restful classes as well.

Tired after a long day the office and all that yoga? Try cocooning classes. Really.

Here’s one person’s description:

If I were to describe my ideal workout class, it would be one during which you get to just chill the f*ck out. In this dream class, people would be far more concerned with de-stressing than getting their heart rates up—it would be all about clearing your mind and reaching a meditative state of peace. In fact, you could almost take out the pesky workout part entirely. The AntiGravity Cocooning class at Crunch is pretty much that dream, realized.

Image result for cocooning classes

If cocooning still seems like too much work and not enough rest, you can even just skip the cocoon and go straight to napping class. Again, really. Napping classes.

That’s right, now you can pay for 15-minute stretching exercise followed by a 45-minute nap in an “ideal temperature” room full of strangers, and still call it “going to the gym.”The organizers call it “Nap-Ercise” and they say the class will: “reinvigorate the mind, improve moods, and even burn the odd calorie,” which is just abstract enough for it not to be false.

The sleep industry is big bucks these days.

So while some people are working two or three jobs or living in unstable arrangements and not getting enough sleep, other people are anxiously taking napping classes. Me, I’m still a fan of napping in hammocks while camping. Or on trains, planes, but not automobiles.

It’s a very weird world we’re living in.

The philosopher Cressida Heyes is thinking and writing about sleep these days. You can view her slide show of sleep images here. She writes, “My next project will be a series of essays on sleep. Stay tuned.” I’m looking forward to hearing what she has to say.

fitness · research

Calling citizen scientists: collaborators wanted

Here’s a true (and under-appreciated) fact: scientific research couldn’t get off the ground without the help of citizen volunteers and collaborators.  Not only do we allow researchers access to our stories, our bodies, our bodily fluids and tissues, our DNA, our family’s DNA, etc., but we provide a built-in context for all that data– we’re embedded in our bodies, communities, families, cultures, religions, nationalities, and diagnoses, presenting nuance and complexity personified.

Why does (and should) science care about this?  Because lab results based on narrow hypotheses don’t give us enough evidence to help us find good solutions to big problems.  They’re just a part of the process.  What works in the lab often doesn’t work in the world, because there’s a host of other influences that contribute to whatever scientists are researching, whether it’s cancers, pollution, fitness, or gun violence.  Science needs us– people busy living their lives.  We are authorities on the details of our habits and practices, and can offer valuable insights to help researchers better understand complexity.

You may be wondering:  why I am going on about this topic?  Yes, it’s legit, but not my usual beat.  Well, the answer is this:  the blog got an email from Hania Rahimi, a PhD candidate researcher at the University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia.  She and her group are doing a study on dietary habits in adults with BMI 25–40.  They’re going to be testing an “online behavioural intervention for improving dietary habits”– this is from the information page, found here.  They’re recruiting folks to participate, and we’re helping out by posting the information.  To see if you’re eligible for the study, you can go to the previous link or also check here for more information.

For what it’s worth, I signed up.  I find being a study participant, especially in research like this (that doesn’t happen to involve blood draws or stool samples), pretty interesting.  My participation helps provide information for their analysis, and the fact that it’s me (rather than someone else) brings *my* perspective into the mix.  As a person who cares about science in general and dietary science in particular, I think this is a good thing.  Plus, we’re helping a graduate student get data for her PhD research.

By the way, my friend Norah and I have written about this issue here. We (along with lots of other people) argue that a primary feminist critique of science is its failure to include the voices and perspectives and embedded knowledge of those who are affected by or experiencing the phenomenon under investigation.  There’s a lot to say here, and a lot’s been said by many of us, including those who write for this blog. The upshot for us, here, now, though, is that science benefits when informed by the rich reports of embedded-in-the-world experiences of the people who have had those experiences.  The information you get is not the same as what you get just by observing, and it’s useful (in fact often crucial) information.

That’s it.  I’ll be back to fitness/weight/sports/random other ruminations next week.

Feminist science posters, with slogans like "this is what feminist science looks like" and "science and feminism: better together"
Feminist science posters, with slogans like “this is what feminist science looks like” and “science and feminism: better together”
body image · Sat with Nat · soccer

Thanksgiving-Birthday-A-versay aka Nat’s personal New Year

It’s the first full weekend in October and in Canada that means a long weekend widely celebrated as Thanksgiving. Our family enjoys a giant feed of food. It also falls very close to my birthday and my wedding anniversary. 

The changing season and the celebrations feel like a personal New Year. A time for reflection and change. 

Soccer season wrapped up and my team, Zidane in the Membrane, won B division. We had a fun season. I grew as a player, forced to play mid-field I found out I’ve gotten a bit better. 

Smiling soccer players crowd together, laughing and sweating
Zidane in the Membrane 2017 is a motley group ranging in age from 21 to somewhere in the 50s. Our bright orange jerseys are easy to spot.

My big achievement this year, aside from hitting the ball effectively with my head and getting called on a foul, I was unanimously chosen by my team as “most sportingly”. In a nod to my feminism the organizers changed it from “sportsmanship”. Awe! Everyday feminist feels. 

Workout wise I’m heading back to the gym for cxworx classes Tuesdays at 4. The class this week was humbling after several months of not doing those moves. I often have to modify exercises because I don’t have the thrust to mass ratio or my round body simply can’t do some of the moves. So it’s a cognitive load with the cardio, strength and balance. I do like it though but the first day back I was weepy for the guilt of not being back sooner. I did wear last year’s soccer jersey. It cheered me up. 

I’m loving Walking Wednesdays with my pals Tracy & Stephanie. We loop around the beautiful park in front of our office. 

I’m throwing some treadmill running back in the mix. I want to improve my endurance and sprinting in soccer so I can be better in mid-field. 

All in all, I’m feeling good about turning 43 this week. I’ve lots of friends who model what fitness in my forties & fifties can look like. 

My sweetie and I are celebrating 22 years of togetherness. It’s official, I’m now at the age where I’ve lived with him longer thanIve lived without him. I’m thankful we keep finding good reasons to enjoy each other and fitness stuff is a big part of that. 

So my folks are in town to celebrate my eldest son’s high school commencement. It’s basically the family High Holidays! Food, family and the time to enjoy it. Many things to be thankful for. 

Cheers!

fitness

Accidental Personal Record

I didn’t want to do another half marathon but I promised. My partner signed me up for the Army Run in Ottawa. It was a marginally consensual sign up. But he was excited and I figured it would all be okay. 

The summer was busy and hot at the wrong times. I hate running in the heat. I didn’t train much. Neither did he frankly but he has that particular combination of base fitness and stubbornness that he can do just about anything he puts his mind to. So as the date approached, I knew that 21.1k was not going to happen for me. 

The event gave me the option of dropping down to the 10k and I took that instead. I thought I’d just take it easy and walk as much as I needed. It was going to be an obscenely hot day for September anyway. I had zero expectation. 

The event itself was huge. And you know what? It was super fun. It’s not just a Canadian Forces thing. It’s in support of wounded soldiers and they had a place of honour in the run. The city really owns that run. The Prime Minister ran the 5k (in 23 minutes !!! ). The Minister of Defence ran the Commander’s Challenge, the same run my partner did. It was the 5k and then the half. There were a couple of other Ministers running other distances too. There were kids and moms carrying kids and strollers and basically every combo you can imagine running 5 different events storming the streets of downtown. 

Doing politics on the run. The PM and the Minister of Defence

I just set out to do my best. Not a record, just survive really. And then, there it was, 10k in 1:13.20. A personal best by accident. 

I told my partner I’d do the half next year. It always seems so possible from this perspective. 

Who else has tripped over a personal best?

Sweaty white middle age woman in a green tank top looking pleased with herself.
Do I look smug? I was smug. And sweaty
fitness · Guest Post · race report · running

Race report: 38th Melissa’s Road Race in Banff (Guest Post)

Heather BanffSometimes I think I’m not really a runner. I took it up as part of a new year’s resolution — my friends and I decided to sign up for a 5k race and give it a shot. Two years later, I’m reading my cadence data and learning about zones, and my Strava segments are looking good.

Two years ago, the thought of running a 5k felt like a bit deal. This past year, I’ve been running our local 10k races, and the goal was to try run my first half marathon.

“Without barfing or crying!”

The race:

Melissa’s Road Race is a tradition in Banff — it takes place in late September, and offers a 5k and 10k race that wind through the town of Banff, and up towards Tunnel Mountain Drive. The half marathon — my race — goes out towards Cascade Falls, and then behind the historic Banff Springs Hotel and out to the golf course. Two laps of the golf course road takes you around Mount Rundle, and along the Bow River, and all in a very quiet, secluded area.

Race day: 

My girlfriends and I drove out from Calgary the night before and stayed in a b&b. After an obligatory walk to Banff Avenue for a late night snack, we turned in. There’d been a heavy snowfall warning for Banff two days before the race, but the morning was cold and clear…about 2 degrees Celsius, with fresh snow above the treeline. I had laid out my gear the night before, and I was prepared for the cooler weather: long tights with funky knee socks, a long sleeve shift, arm warmers, a wind vest, hat, buff, globes, and skull cap. A lot of clothing, but as it turned out, I was layering up and down all through the run.

We walked down for the 5k start and I saw my friends off, and then got ready for the half marathon start ten minutes later.

One of the greatest things about Melissa’s is the spirit of the race. Registration is capped at 4,500 participants by Parks Canada and the Town of Banff. The half marathon runners received a wildlife briefing — we had a short elk delay. I polished off a Clif bar while I waited, and then had the first Gu gel while I chatted with the runners around me. I was feeling pretty darn nervous, and had a good case of the ‘I don’t belong here’ frets.

0-7k

I tried to start slow…I really did! The first 5k were easy…running down towards the falls, enjoying the view. I’d seeded myself at about the 7:30 mark, but I found myself passing that pace group and then evening out between the next one, so the crowd had thinned quite a bit.

The first aid station was at the 5k mark, and I walked in to have some water and walked out with the first snack — one of those pressed fruit bars from the grocery store. I’ve been trying to work out inexpensive things to take on runs, and a thirty-nine cent bar is a lot easier to swallow (ha, ha) than the more expensive performance foods and gels.

As we left the 5k station, we were running in sun. The golf course itself was screened from view — it felt more like being out on a back road or laneway, and I only caught a few glimpses of sandtraps and groomed greens. With the sun out, I was warming up…but as the course dipped down and closer to Mount Rundle, we moved into shadow and I had to layer back up. This really was a theme for the run…warm patches of meadow followed by very cool stretches in the shadow of the most glorious mountains.

image description: Road stretching out ahead with three runners in front, green pines on the side, and high, rocky, snowy mountains as a backdrop.
image description: Road stretching out ahead with three runners in front, green pines on the side, and high, rocky, snowy mountains as a backdrop.

8-13k

I am, most definitely, a slow runner. Melissa’s is a race that attracts a lot of fast runners. At this point, there was a lot of room between me and the other runners, and as I got towards eight kilometers, the faster runners in the race were already onto their second lap.

Boy howdy, is that a weird feeling. The first speedy runners blasted by, and I had that moment: what on earth am I doing here? I’m so slow…I don’t belong here. This is awful! I clapped for the faster runners, and to my surprise, they were congratulating ME. “Good pace! Keep it up! Great run! You got this!” It was a real lift to the spirits…especially as I hit 11k and realized I still had another ten to go.

Leaving the 8k aid station, I snacked on a package of Honey Stinger gummies…and shared them with a fellow runner (also his first half marathon). Then off running again, and I kept finished that first lap of the golf course, had a bathroom break, another fruit bar, and charged out for the next lap.

13-15k

This was where everything started feeling hard. I’d trained well through the summer, and I was feeling pretty confident that I had the strength to finish. Certainly the scenery was keeping the run breathtaking in all the right ways. The sharp smell of pine and the croaking of mountain ravens will stay with me for a long time, I think.

But there was something about this long stretch…I’d read about the psychology of long races, and the point where the effort becomes just as much mental and emotional as it is physical. For me, it was the ‘dig deep’ moment…I had to look inward, trust my body, and settle in for the long run still to come. The fast runners had left us all behind, and it was time to get the job done.

My 5k friends were texting encouragement to me and I was reading the messages on my Garmin…and at this point, those little buzzes were really welcome. I knew they’d be waiting for me at the finish, and those motivating messages helped so much. So did the sight of a Parks Canada ranger keeping a close eye on something off in the trees…

16-18k

More snacks. More positive self talk. A few more walk breaks. My pace was feeling good, legs good, feet starting to get a little sore…but I was doing it. When I hit kilometre sixteen, I started thinking about how I only had five to go, and how it was just my evening run. Just my regular, run of the mill, after-work run through the neighbourhood. It helped to look at the distances and think about where I’d be if I was back home.

At 18k, I had my last snack — a gel I’d been saving as a ‘just in case.’ I’d been keeping up a fairly regular pace but I was suddenly very hungry and tired, and in retrospect, I probably needed one more snack than I’d packed. Fortunately the gel — the one I almost put back but left in my pocket after my friend told me to take it for emergencies — did the trick.

The run down along the falls meant a slog uphill. At the top of the hill, I saw the marker for the nineteenth kilometre, and the volunteers were cheerfully calling out that it would be level from this point on.

19-21k

Home stretch! At this point, I was dodging tourists on the pathways and running past 5k and 10k runners leaving the race, but I was determined to keep going. My friends had been tracking my progress, and were waiting close to the turn point into that last little bit.

I managed to put one last burst of speed and sprinted in to the finish…I wanted to finish strong, and finish proud, and coming in as fast as I could manage was the way I wanted to do it.

Image description: Beaming in a "Calgary Marathon" blue ball cap, sunglasses, and a bright pink top, Heather holds up her finisher's medal, with an image of a snowy mountain, green slope, and water and the name, "Melissa" in orange lettering. Behind Heather is a small crowd, pine trees, and cloudy blue skies.
Image description: Beaming in a “Calgary Marathon” blue ball cap, sunglasses, and a bright pink top, Heather holds up her finisher’s medal, with an image of a snowy mountain, green slope, and water and the name, “Melissa” in orange lettering. Behind Heather is a small crowd, pine trees, and cloudy blue skies.

Impressions:

I did it! At 39, I ran my first half marathon. After a year of hard work and preparation, I finished with a chip time of 2:37:45, towards the back of the pack for overall time and for my age group. I am deeply grateful to have the strength and health to do this, and as I approach 40, I’m also very grateful to have friends to share my training and run talk with, and that we celebrated this accomplishment together.

We all went up to the hot springs afterwards, and I ran into another half marathoner — one of the fast ones that lapped us. I was congratulating him on his fast run, and how much in awe I am of the people that were flying by me. But what really struck me was what he said about seeing the slower runners (and I paraphrase):

“I see all of you, and you’re just on your seventh or eighth kilometer as we’re going by on fourteen and fifteen, and I think ‘goddamn, look at them…they’re pouring their heart and soul into this, and look at them — they still have the whole race ahead of them but goddamn if they aren’t giving their all! It’s so %!@#ing amazing, because you’re just made up of grit and will and ^!$#ing determination.”

And that, friends, is exactly what you should remember the next time you think you are too old, too slow, too out of shape, too inexperienced, too amateurish, too whatever to do what you want to try to do. Grit and will and determination. You have it all.

I won’t soon forget it.

Heather Banff finish joy
Image description: Heather in a joyful jump, wearing sunglasses, a blue ballcap, black sleeves and a pink t-shirt, black tights and yellow socks and a yellow race bib #3144. Meadow, mountains, blue sky, and white clouds in the background.

 

 

 

 

fitness

Tracy Talks to Sam’s Class about Fitness, Feminism, and Fashion

What are friends for? One thing Sam and I do for each other sometimes is teach each other’s classes. It’s easy because we have lots of overlapping interests, so it’s almost no extra work to throw something together.  Last night I talked to Sam’s Gender and Fashion class about fitness, fashion, and the sexualization of women in sport. I gave a similar talk last year, but this time Sam added a more theoretical reading on objectification and why it’s harmful to the person(s) objectified.

The students were smart and engaged, and had some good things to say about “What’s So Bad about Pink Anyway?” “Nipple Phobia,” “Play Hard, Look Cute,” and “No way am I wearing that! Body conscious clothing as a barrier to entry to women’s sports.”

When I asked about the social meaning of pink, one student said that its associations with normative femininity mean that it’s not the most empowering colour choice for fitness wear.  Yes! My point exactly.

I’m sure at least a few people didn’t believe me when I said bras didn’t used to be padded — that padding was an extra, not the norm, and not even an option in sport bras (remember?). But heads started nodding when I talked about all the diffferent ways we now shame women for their bodies: “headlights,” “camel toe,” “muffin tops,” “back fat.” It’s so hard to be socially acceptable. And yet women’s athletic clothing is almost exclusively body-clinging. It’s a tough balance to navigate if you’re not young, lean and thin, but even that doesn’t spare you from nipples and camel toe.

We spent a lot of time on beach volleyball, where the women’s skimpy bikinis stand in stark contrast to the men’s baggy shorts and tank tops. Students went both ways on the question of whether it was okay if, given a choice, the athletes would continue to choose the bikinis. Though one student thought that the choice made sense because it was a beach, the point was also made that it’s hard not to “choose” to continue in the skimpy swimsuit when you know that’s the expectation and you want people to continue to watch your sport.

So what’s wrong with sexually objectifying women who are athletes. Well, for one thing, objectification of any kind goes against a very widely endorsed principle from philosopher Immanuel Kant. Kant said that we should never treat people as a means only. What he meant by that is that no matter what sort of interaction we’re having with someone, we must always treat them also as a person, not just an object or thing or tool or instrument for our own use. That’s a powerful idea that not many people would reject.

There are a range of ways of treating someone as an object, which is essentially what it is to objectify them, and they’re not all sexual. The three ways that came into play in class discussion of women in sport were: instrumentality, fungability, and denial of subjectivity. Instrumentality because in objectifying women athletes, they’re being treated as if they are simply instruments for use — in most cases sexual use. Fungability because one body is replaceable by another, as long as they fulfill the same purpose, perhaps as an object of sexual fantasy. And denial of subjectivity because in objectifying these athletes, their experiences and feelings aren’t even a consideration.

Now clearly there is more to be said (and more was said) on the issue of objectification. And of course, as one student pointed out, it’s not always and only women who are sexually objectified in sport. She noted that David Beckham, for example, is often presented in a highly sexualized manner that has nothing to do with his skill as a soccer player. I’m not sure if I was the only one who thought that there are relevant differences between social assumptions about masculine sexuality and feminine sexuality that might make the sexualization of women worse. But I did raise that as a possibility worth considering.

Class went well. Not the best ever, but I enjoyed the students even though it was the end of a very long day for me (I’d already taught for three hours earlier in the day). It’s always enjoyable to meet students in other classes and to engage with them as a guest lecturer on a topic that’s fun to talk about.

Thanks for the opportunity, Sam!

 

fitness

Who is plus sized and who is not? Sam weighs in (again) on labels and identity

Of all the fights not to get into on the internet, the worst sort is when someone claims a particular label and you argue that they aren’t it. Whatever it is. Feminist. Fat. Liberal. Plus sized. Cyclist. Runner. Introvert.

The thing is when someone claims a label for themselves they’ve got more at stake than you do. It matters to them in ways you might not understand.

Here is one example from my life.

I say I’m a parent and I rarely identify as a mother. Gendered parenting roles aren’t my thing. I don’t entirely abstain from gender. I mostly wear skirts and dresses and I wear lipstick while cycling! But as a parent, my connection to my kids isn’t experienced (for me) as a gendered thing. There’s no “wait till your father gets home” around here. We don’t roll that way. You can correct me and say that technically I’m also a mother, as well as a parent. Fine. But you’re missing out on my perspective on my life. There’s information there that you don’t have. Labels matter especially when it comes to self identification.

Here’s two more that matter to me:

Thanks Sarah for the birthday pins! (The pins read “feminist” and “introvert.”)

But here the issue is more complicated. It’s about who gets to claim the label “plus sized.”

You’ll recall in my recent blog post about the label “fat” I admitted that sometimes I claimed the label “fat” and sometimes I didn’t. One example of a time when I claim it is when people start opining about the possibility of being fat and fit. Then I stand up proud and say, over here. Look at me. “I weigh x number of pounds and just rode my bike y number of kilometers.”

When don’t I claim the label “fat”? When I worry that relatively smaller fat people like me are crowding out debates and discussion. There’s fat phobia out there in the world that I don’t encounter. I rarely need to seek size accommodation. Regular airplane seats and seat belts fit me just fine and pretty much all clothing stores sell things that fit. I’m fat, yes, but still pretty privileged in terms of my size.

But plus sized seems to me to be a pretty factual label, neutral even. Regular sizes run 0-14. Plus sized is 16 and up. That’s the dividing line in most stores. I’m fat, not plus sized.

So when a friend, a much smaller friend, described herself as plus sized I spoke up and corrected her. You’re size 8, I said. You’re not plus sized.

She pointed out that she feels plus sized. What does that mean? Well, a modeling company she’d spoken to about modeling said they didn’t need any more plus sized models. They saw her as plus sized. People name call her and she’s been bullied because of her size. She’s definitely not thin or skinny. But is everyone who isn’t skinny “plus sized”? Have we lost track of normal?

I’m reminded of a line from the TV show The Good Place about the need for a medium place, nor heaven or hell, but a place for the rest of us who aren’t perfect but aren’t evil either.

Heck, these days people are calling Rhianna plus sized. See Calling Rihanna Plus-Size Could Be The Conversation We All Need.

Here’s Rhianna’s response.

Anyway, the label “plus sized” means something to this young woman. Who am I to decide she can’t claim it? Why do I feel the need to tell her she isn’t plus sized?

What’s your take on these debates about who is and who isn’t plus-sized?

fitness

London Heathrow for Kids: They Get It a Bit Right and a Bit Wrong

I flew out of London Heathrow yesterday after a quick work trip. Last time I was there I noticed that they were trying to make it a better experience for kids with the character of Mr. Adventure:

heathrow mr adventure

He’s all happy and fun and adventurous and welcoming. I can’t say my Heathrow security experience was as fun as all that, but I applaud their efforts to lighten it up, especially for kids, whom I can imagine would find it even more tedious.

In the waiting area where you wait for your gate to be posted they have a play zone for kids. That’s another plus because it lets the kids be active instead of sitting around, and chances are they’ll be sitting around for a long time once aboard.

But I was dismayed to see that, in contrast to Mr. Adventure, the feature character at the play area is Little Miss Naughty. She’s the bad girl who breaks the rules. A sign implores the children not to be like Little Miss Naughty:

Heathrow little miss

Now, maybe it’s just because I was stressed about timing even before I got to security (because traffic!). Then the long wait for the random search of my laptop and liquids bag (all to code, I might add) just compounded things because the gates are so darn far away (like 15 minutes if you use the moving walkways). But I found the representation of Little Miss Naughty to be an infuriating reminder of the way girls and boys are differently presented. Mr. Adventure is all positive. Little Miss Naughty is all bad.

Not only that, it made me think about the gender gap where kids’ activity is concerned. Boys are encouraged to be active; girls not so much. So it annoyed me to see Little Miss Naughty as the one who needed rules, being told not to climb. It seemed like an example of the way girls get reprimanded for expressing themselves through activity.

It could be that I’m reading more into it than is warranted. But something about these gendered representations, pitched at children, doesn’t sit right with me. It feels like a micro-aggression, perpetuating subtle messages about the different and gendered expectations placed on boys and girls.

What do you think about Mr. Adventure and Little Miss Naughty?

fitness

Commitment mechanisms and biking to work in a heat wave

Here in Southwestern Ontario we’re having a weird Autumn. Beautiful coloured leaves, yes, but also record breaking high temperatures. It’s like summer finally arrived but after the start of the school year.

When I wrote about fall on the bike path, I was thinking about people who start out riding with good intentions but who quit in the dark and the cold.

Instead, there have been a few days when I was tempted not to ride because it was too warm. Once at work I had full days of teaching and meetings and I wanted to feel rested and look ready.

Instead, I squished clothes into my panniers and arrived all hot and sweaty. As one does

Sam in a blue pride run shirt hot and sweaty after a ride to work

The squint is from sweat and sunscreen in my eyes.

What made me stick to my plan?

It wasn’t commitment to fitness and physical activity. Nope. There was one simple reason that trumped all that. I simply haven’t bought a parking pass and I’m frugal about parking.

Remote visitor parking is $6 a day but it’s far away. It takes me as long to walk in from visitor parking as it does to ride my bike the whole way, door to door. There are pricier options but I pretty much rule those out automatically.

On the whole I’m glad I’m bike commuting no matter what the weather. I haven’t been getting much other biking in. We’ll see how I hold up in the rain and the dark and later the snow. Luckily I have a fat bike for that.

With any luck that means I can use the multi use path even after the snow starts to fall and the path isn’t plowed. I’m looking forward to that adventure

Sam on a fat bike in the snow

How about you? Any commitment mechanisms that you use to make sure you do the thing you want to do?

fitness · philosophy

Words (not mine) to live by

This week, philosopher Ken Chung died of pancreatic cancer.  He was 39, and a friend and former student of people who read and write for this blog.  I never met him, but I did get a chance to read his blog— some essays and thoughts on life and death and cancer and philosophy.  I read his essay, “Struggle”, here, and found some words of his that really resonate with me–about life, about movement, about self worth, about work, about love– well, they may work for just about anything.  Here they are below:

  • Try to maximize the amount of work that you enjoy doing for its own sake, and minimize the work you do only because of its results.
  • Try to find a way to love the process over the outcome.
  • Try to accept the fact that success depends on factors outside our control, and try to allow only what is within our control — for instance, the efforts we make — to affect our state of mind.
  • Try to see that we’re playing with odds here, and that even though we know that the harder we work, the greater the disappointment, greater too is the likelihood of success.

What about this passage speaks to me?  That life is lived in the moments and weeks and years of untidy process:  of slogging, restarting, retooling, zigging and zagging, plowing through, grumbling, and persevering.

This is exactly how feminism informs fitness for me:  that the process and the experience  of putting out effort is what we spend virtually all of our time with (as opposed to the moment of finishing or accomplishing or abandoning, etc.) .  My approach to fitness is littered with plans and goals and hopes and expectations and fears.  But the process is really what matters–what is it like on my yoga mat, on the saddle of my road bike, in the cockpit of a kayak?  Answer:  sometimes good, sometimes painful, sometimes boring, sometimes sublime. Mostly ordinary.

Tomorrow I’m taking a day for myself to go for a solo ride up on the North Shore of Massachusetts, around Gloucester and Rockport.  The coastline is sublime, and the weather should be fine–a little cool but sunny.  I’ll be thinking of Ken and his wife and his friends and family.  And I’ll be turning the cranks and taking in the scenery, on my way to the next thing around the corner.

Here’s to life.

The author, posing confidently on rocks by the ocean on Massachusetts' north shore, despite the fact that she's wear cycling shoes with metal cleats and standing on a rock.
The author, posing confidently on rocks by the ocean on Massachusetts’ north shore, despite the fact that she’s wear cycling shoes with metal cleats and standing on a rock.