It’s that time of year and we’re looking at some of our past posts on January diet frenzies. In this post Martha reminds us to just eat the damn cupcake (if you want a cupcake).
Month: January 2020
Trampoline Park with Coach Renee (Guest Post)
by Renee Frigault
Partner, kiddo and I met up with another family last weekend to spend the afternoon at a trampoline park. Backyard trampolines were common where I grew up, and I went on to train and teach with my university trampoline club in the 1990s. I even certified with Gymnastics Canada as a trampoline instructor, but it has been a very long while since I’ve bounced regularly. But backyard trampolining has grown a lot recently, with kids learning tricks via social media — and the indoor parks are an expanding concept, with most North American cities seeming to have at least one.
I tried my first trampoline park about 6 years ago. Every time I go, it seems like most all of the grown-ups are on the benches. Thought I’d share some information on trampoline basics for any adults looking to join in the fun!
The type of trampoline will affect how high you can bounce:
Almost all big trampoline parks and backyard trampolines use a tightly woven jumping mat surface. These mats have a smooth durable surface that also has a side effect of limiting bounce in comparison to the ones seen at the Olympics. Competitive trampolines have a mesh bed that lets air pass through the mat to help maximize force transfer to the springs. They are also rougher on your skin. Smooth beds ‘steal’ some of the force transfer to push the air under the bed out of the way. Mesh beds just let the air pass right through. It is physically harder to jump high on a non-mesh trampoline. The smaller mat sizes at trampoline parks also act to limit potential jump height which is good to know for anyone worried about bouncing too high or those looking for really big air.
Two-foot rule:
Whenever possible, always try to land with both feet on the same surface. One foot jumping or landing with one foot on the trampoline mat and the other on the frame will affect your stability and increase the likelihood of twisting an ankle or knee. I have an old knee injury and avoid the dodgeball courts for this exact reason.
Bladder issues:
I’ve learned to always wear something absorbent in my undies on bounce days. A little pee leakage is pretty common for adults with female bladder arrangements. A shorter urethra that points more or less straight down combined with a larger body kind of puts the physics against us.
Clothing:
Anything comfortable that won’t flop around as you move around is fine. I like leggings, sports bra, and a long sleeve fitted t-shirt that tucks in. Long sleeves to protect my forearms from being irritated by the trampoline mat and tucked to avoid belly flashing. Long hair tied back unless I feel like spending the next few days working tangles out. My own preference is bare feet for a more secure landing, but most public trampoline parks require wearing socks with rubber treads on the bottom for hygiene. If you don’t own a pair, they will happily sell you some.
Fitness:
Bring a water bottle and remember to take breaks. Trampoline can be a great cardio and core workout, along with improving overall body coordination. I even read somewhere that rebounding is excellent for your lymph system… can’t say I’ve ever given much thought to the state of my lymph but, sure why not.
Finally, don’t forget that trampoline is usually loved by kids because it is simply fun. Fancy tricks are completely optional. Just bouncing up and down always puts a smile on my face.
How about you – does the idea of bouncing up and down appeal to you?
– Renee is a professional engineer and recreational aerialist. She works and trains in Toronto, ON.
Just Trying—For A Zesty Start to 2020
A few years ago, my cross-country ski mate moved to Montana. We had developed a relaxed, yet ferocious, approach to our shared ski workouts—lots of hard work and lots of chat time. My perfect workout partner. After she left, I lost my mojo.
I almost didn’t notice. For the first couple of years I was dealing with the run up and the aftermath of surgery for a neuroma in my foot. Not that I had to take any significant time off; it was more that the pain prior to the surgery dampened my enthusiasm and then I didn’t quite trust the absence of pain. Even as I write this, I know that my diminished energy for skiing was more to do with losing my partner-in-energy-for-fierce-workouts than it was related to the surgery.
When the ski season started this year, I noticed for the first time how many moments I told myself that I wasn’t fit enough anymore to do a workout from years past. For example, I used to ski up certain gradual hills using V2 (the most powerful skate ski stroke; think of it like the hard gear in the big chain ring on a bike). Now, I was intimidated by the prospect. I told myself that I shouldn’t even try until I got in better shape. Now, that’s a vicious cycle.
Then, skiing on December 31st, I suddenly realized—what am I doing? Just try, I told myself. What’s the worst that’s going to happen? You can’t finish the effort you started? What does that even mean? I’m the one who decides when the effort is done. I’m the one who decides whether I made a good effort or a not. And, if I never make the effort, then I can definitely keep telling myself I can’t.
So, in the middle of my ski, I just tried. I alternated V2 with the moderate ski stroke I normally default to. The next day, January 1, as I was finishing my ski, I got inspired. First day of the year, more, first day of the new decade, try on a new attitude. Plus, I was buoyed by my effort the day before. As I approached the hill where I used to do V2 intervals, I decided to throw in one interval. Just one. Just try. The hill was SO hard. I almost coughed up a lung, as a friend used to say. I got to the top. My technique was a mess. I was done in. I felt that nice glow of accomplishment.
I’m starting to thread back in bits of workouts from the days with my ski pal. It feels good. Fresh. Exhilarating even, as I feel the fizz of enthusiasm returning. As always, the experience makes me question, where else in my life can I just try more? Just try feels forgiving. More about the intention than the outcome. I’m less daunted. I’m less likely to judge myself, when trying is the key to my pleasure, not accomplishing a certain speed.
On January 3, I did the whole interval workout I used to do. V2 up the gradual hill. Fast as I can around and down the other side. Double pole on the barely-discernible-uphill back to the start of the loop. Six times. Just enough energy left for some ski dancing in celebration.
I feel an uptick of overall life optimism from my new and renewed attitude on skis; a zesty feeling I wish I could bottle for the less pleasant days. But life’s operating instructions are pretty clear: Best Enjoyed Now.
Will do.
What’s on your Just Try list?
You Ask, Fit Feminists Answer: I hate exercise but it’s good for me. What should I do?
I shared Yoni Freedhoff’s How to be Healthy, in Just 48 Words on our Facebook page. A reader question for “You ask, Fit Feminists Answer.”
Seven of those words are “Exercise as often as you can enjoy.”
Here’s his extended riff on exercise: “Though commonly only considered in the name of weight (where it’s often less helpful than feels fair), the overall health benefits of exercise are difficult to overstate. Exercise increases life span and treats or prevents many, if not most, chronic noncommunicable diseases. My exercise mantra is simple: Some is good, more is better, everything counts. It’s also most likely better to do a small amount of exercise consistently than a large amount of exercise temporarily.”
A page follower messaged me to say that if she followed this advice she’d never exercise. She hates it.
She said she hears the arguments and see that exercise is a good thing for her physical health, her mental health etc and so wants to do it, but actually hates it. She’s just doing it for instrumental benefits and takes no joy at all in it. All the advice we offer is about finding a thing you love but what she loves are movies and books and good meals. To repeat: She hates exercising.
I figured all of the blogging team have something to say on this one. I’ve had a go at it before— see here and here.
Christine: First, I commend anyone who is willing to put aside their hatred of exercise and do it for the health benefits.
If you learning to love exercise is not an option, then I wonder what you could do to make it a little less hateful?
Could you read on an exercise bike? Do strength training while watching movies? Walk to the coffee shop?
I’m thinking of the exercise as a side thing you do while you are doing something you do enjoy.
The main thing, I think, is to not be hard on yourself about hating exercise. Then, find ways to make it a little less annoying to get moving.
Marjorie: I agree with Christine Hennebury about connecting it to something you DO like may be the key in this situation. There has to be some positive reward in the near to immediate timescale or I just can’t imagine making it stick as a habit.
I would add that it sounds like the activities they like are more solitary, so it may make sense to focus on solitary activities. Don’t force yourself into a group fitness class if you don’t want to be around other people. I value my “me time” so much at the end of the day, and going to the gym gives me a blessed hour in my own head before I need to be home and interact with my husband.
So, in addition to Christine’s suggestions, I would add the exercise can be shutting yourself into a room at home to do a workout video. Or maybe better yet, doing one solo in a side room at the gym (you can find videos for free online to stream on your phone) might give the introvert time you need.
Nicole:
While I hear people all the time say they don’t enjoy exercise, I find it hard to believe there isn’t something out there that they might enjoy. I think it’s fair that they don’t enjoy what is traditionally considered exercise (gym-based, running, etc), but given the importance in movement for health, I think it’s worth trying different things, until hopefully something sticks.
Do they like group activities? Perhaps they can find a group walk, or a group dance class? Have they tried pool aerobics?
I like Christine’s suggestions for incorporating exercise in other activities you enjoy – walking to a movie, doing push ups while watching a movie at home, reading a book on a stationary bike. Make it a reward system – 15 minutes on a stationary bike – I get to watch a double-header! Etc.
Natalie:
Some advice I’ve gathered from others:
-get a dog & walk it every day. Companionship, the dog needs you and it can be intriguing to see the world from their point of view. Daily walking/rolling is enough exercise to get health benefits. If it gets too easy add a weighted backpack or go faster (warning: this could lead to running!) or go longer.
The “off like a bandaid” approach. Short, high intensity training to get max return on your effort while minimizing the minutes you hate about your life. Stair intervals of walking up, rundown, run up, run down then 2 at a time up, run down. Repeat until exhaustion
Instantly gets your cardio up.
Go strengths based approach. What do you love? Cooking? Then volunteer at a community meal chopping, lugging ingredients and slinging grub. It’s movement. It counts!
Ditto on community clean up days and other volunteering.
One friend loves hunting so they use that activity to ground their routine and work up to the walking distance.
Connect to a cause. There are walks, runs, bicycle tours that raise funds for charity. Look at your chosen community and see if there is an event you can participate in that honours someone you know. Or train with that friend to support their endeavors.
Chores for your friends & neighbours. Shoveling snow sucks. But meeting a neighbour & helping them out is awesome. Ditto bringing in wood or groceries for them.
Dancing with friends and family.
Sex!!!
Susan: It doesn’t need to be sweaty, especially at the beginning. It doesn’t need to be in a gym. Walking is the easiest best thing that is good for body and mind. I actually agree that a dog is the best way to get yourself to walk and also has other benefits but even if there is no dog, put the boots on (cleats if it’s icy) bundle up and walk for an hour. Remember to swing your arms. Listen to an audio book. Easy, not too sweaty, excellent start.
Sam: I do a lot of exercise I don’t enjoy and so I’ve stopped with the “find the thing you love mantra” mostly. I don’t love knee physio or toe physio. But I do want to travel and walk up hills in new cities. I hate the idea of not being able to hike in the future. So lots of the exercise I do now is tied to being able to do things I love in the future. Exercise for the sake of living longer means more books and more movies in your life. It’s okay to exercise for instrumental reasons.
Having said that, I’d then figure out what is necessary–strength training for bone health, cardio for heart health, something for flexibility and mobility– and then regular, everyday exercise. I’d make a plan and then find ways to minimize misery in the execution of that plan. Music!
Catherine: I agree with what all the bloggers said. Here’s a thought: get a cheap fitbit (my fake-o knockoff one cost $30) and start noting your step counts (or use your phone). You may find that doing a little here and there will add up to more than you thought you did. You may find it interesting to set a few goals from time to time– like 4000 steps a day– and see what that feels like. Recent studies show benefits for women who do 4000 steps a day (vs less than 2500). Maybe add in a few stairs here and there, or go out of your way to take slightly longer routes to places you go. If you find yourself doing 4000-7000, yay for you! That’s great. There’s nothing magic about 10000 steps a day. You’ll find where you settle in and what works for you. Yes, there will be some higher and lower count days. That’s life, and you’re doing it.
Cate: All of these ideas, especially attaching movement to something you already like to do, are great. (E.g., go to the gym and watch a favourite tv show while walking on a treadmill; listen to your favourite podcast while going for a walk). Another thought I have comes from people I’ve known who hate exercise who say things like “I went to yoga and they told me how to BREATHE. I know how to BREATHE.” I recommend trying a little dose of beginner’s mind and curiosity — like you are exploring a new country or something, rather than taking on something you already know you don’t like. Like, what could you discover by breathing differently? What does that actually feel like? What could you find by taking the subway or driving to a neighbourhood you’ve never been in and going for a walk there? Can you be an anthropologist and watch people doing an activity with curiosity, like you’ve never seen such a thing before, and see what you observe? I find treating it like an adventure, not a task, can open up some new things.
Tracy: Something really simple that I think is helpful (and encouraged by the 220 in 2020 style groups): don’t call it “exercise”. Call it “movement” and just add a little of it every day, even if it’s walking your dog or walking to some place you would normally drive. Maybe you’ll start to love it or find something that you want to do more of and maybe you won’t, but to me “exercise” right away has baggage that lots of us need to lose.
I’ve also found it helpful to make a game of adding stuff. Like if I ran 20 minutes last week can I do 25 this week? But maybe that’s more advanced of a motivation strategy than someone who thinks they hate every activity can use to keep at it.
Okay readers, what do you recommend?
Virtual Speed and Sam the Daredevil
When I first joined Strava I became aware of my downhill speed compared to other riders. See Strava, QOM, and does downhill count?
But there are limits to my downhill speed caused by real world practical concerns like FEAR OF DEATH. Years ago, in Canberra, Australia (I was there on sabbatical) I did a course on safely descending at speed and I’ve gotten better with time. Interested? There are some good tips here.
I follow more experienced riders downhill and follow their lines. I don’t brake that often. Still though I don’t pedal hard downhill. Did I mention FEAR OF DEATH?
But this winter and last I’ve been riding on a trainer in the virtual world created by Zwift. One joy of Zwift riding is that you can’t crash. It’s not just that you don’t actually crash. You don’t virtually crash either. There’s no crashing at all. So there’s no reason not to keep up your watts as you zoom downhill.
My efforts in the virtual Yorkshire, speeding down hills unlocked a new achievement for me, DAREDEVIL, for exceeding 50 mph.
Me a Daredevil? I think my kids are likely laughing. But I can be a virtual Daredevil it turns out.
A different kind of running (Guest post)
By Shawna Lewkowitz
The lessons learned while being active are ones we can use in every part of our lives. My own journey of running and doing yoga taught me plenty and served me well for when I decided to leap into a whole different kind of running, as the NDP candidate for London West in the Federal Election.
For years I was a regular runner but like many, I didn’t come to running until later in life and it took me a while to see myself as a “real” runner, whatever that is supposed to mean. I made my way from 5ks to 10ks to half marathons, always believing marathons were out of reach for me – meant for the actual real runners. People who were of course more athletic and capable than I was.
As you can imagine, the decision to run in the election wasn’t a simple one either. I’d asked and supported many women to run and founded a local organization, Women & Politics to support them when they did. But for many reasons, when previously asked to run, I’d always said no.
This time was different. I still went through the cycle of questions: Am I really the right person to do this? Do I have the grit to make it through the inevitable criticism, long days and hours of campaigning? How will I make this work with all the other responsibilities in my life? What will the impact be on my family? And most of all, do I really want this? Questions that were similar to the ones I’ve asked myself in other situations.
Before doing marathons, I wasn’t sure I was capable of running 42.2 kms or perhaps more pointedly, doing the training to run 42.2 kms. Before doing yoga regularly, I didn’t think I was capable of a daily yoga practice. I eventually learned that like everyone, I am always capable of more than I think I am and that big challenges usually excite us and terrify us in equal measure. So, after lots of conversations, soul searching and contemplation, I took the leap and said yes to being a candidate.
Running and yoga proved to be great teachers for an election. During the actual campaign period, the days were long and extremely intense. Twelve hour days or longer, with at least half of that spent out door knocking were the norm. I consistently woke up tired. But just like training for running, I put on my shoes and headed out the door. There was no “if” about it, I just did what needed to be done.
But none of us do anything truly on our own. When I was training for marathons I did so alongside a supportive running community and encouraging friends and family. In my daily yoga challenge, I had a consistent online group of like-minded yogis. For my election run, I had an amazing campaign team working with me and an incredible partner and two teenage daughters who all who took on the bulk of our family responsibilities. They made it easy for me to focus on what I needed to do.
I treated the pre-campaign period before the election was officially called, as my “base training”. We were door knocking and listening to people all summer long. The time spent walking and listening for those months laid the foundation for the six-week election period (the marathon). Not only the intense physical requirement of campaigning but also the intellectual and emotional considerations of being “on” and in tune with people’s needs.
My many years of doing yoga, brought a calm and clarity to the emotional experience of campaigning. People shared really hard stories at the door and they trusted us to do something about the issues they were facing. At times it was overwhelming – the pain and struggle people live with is real. When overwhelmed by the immensity of it all, I would go back to focusing on being present, listening and offering up a platform that I absolutely believed in.
There were also the inevitable negative reactions at the door. Misogynistic comments about my appearance, my obvious feminism and my stance on gender issues. Men who would argue with me just for the sake of arguing, who would slam doors in my face and call me names. People who would make racist or homophobic comments to volunteers. But honestly these interactions were minimal compared to the positives experienced at the door.
There will always be people who think we aren’t capable of accomplishing our goals – exercise, work or personal wise. They will put real and imagined obstacles in our way. The key is to see them for what they are and to stay focused on what we set out to do. The hate only drove me to push harder and as a runner, I know how to push hard.
I did ultimately end up losing the election, but we ran a campaign I can say I am really proud of and I have absolutely no regrets about running. I’ve trained for races I couldn’t complete before. I know what it feels like to put your heart and soul into something and have it turn out differently than you hoped. But it doesn’t make the journey any less worthwhile and if anything, it prepares us even better for the next time we show up at the starting line.
The lessons learned through being active have relevance to all areas of our lives. It is one of the many reasons we lace up our shoes, get on our mats, bring out our bikes, show up for that game, make time for that walk – we know the value is in more than just the moment. That our commitment to moving more, and reaching our goals helps us to do more, cope better and feel healthy in all areas of our lives.
Shawna is an instructor and community-based learning coordinator in Social Justice and Peace Studies at King’s University College, founder of Women & Politics, and the past Federal NDP Candidate for London West. She does all kinds of active things that feed her soul but her favourite is getting lost in the woods with the people she loves.
Still Recovering From Holiday Overeating? Here’s what I’m doing next.
CW: Discusses disordered eating habits and negative self-talk.
Continuing with my normal life.
No, seriously. The moment the celebrations are over and I feel like, “hmm, maybe it’s time to eat fewer cookies, get a little more sleep and find that gym membership card again,” then I’ll just take one thing and do what is normal for me. I’m not going to ramp up, push hard, or go strong. It is not time to atone, make up for, or negate.
I’m just going to let myself fall back naturally into my old routines. It might take a few days, or a week, or whatever, but I’ll find them again. The key is to not spend my time wallowing in guilt or blaming myself in anger. The more emotion I put behind the transition, the harder it is.
I know because I’ve been there before, and not just at the holidays. You see, for nearly as far back as I can remember, I’ve dealt with compulsive overeating. I stole food and hid it in my room as a little girl. As a teen, I would spend my allowance on donuts and pastries that I would eat while walking home from school. I managed my emotions, my sense of loneliness and isolation, depression, traumatic experiences and their aftermaths with food.
I have spent the better part of the last decade extricating myself from these patterns, and while I can’t say I will never overeat unintentionally again, I can say it occurs less and less frequently.
One of the most powerful tools that helped me was to learn to remove emotions from my observations of these patterns and to switch my internal talk to neutral observations. “Why was I so stupid and ate all that cake again?!” has become “I have eaten more cake than I planned on eating.”
I don’t immediately go into damage control mode. I don’t promise to eat only a salad for dinner that night or swear off cake for the rest of the week. I don’t immediately go out for a run or plan a brutal lifting session. I try to just notice it and move on.
I think the noticing is important, although I haven’t read this anywhere else. My friends who are chronic dieters often seem to do a “I’m eating whatever I want, I don’t care” move and then use that as a way to “ignore” what they are overeating. From what I’ve observed on the outside, this seems to backfire as shame and guilt in the long run. It looks like the act of pretending one doesn’t care builds up increased levels of emotional connection to choices rather than diminishing them.
So, the first step isn’t to pretend I am neutral, but to acknowledge the feelings and the choices and consciously rewrite the observation into a neutral statement. “I care about how much I’m eating and I’m going to eat this cookie anyway” is a much more powerful sentiment than trying to convince myself that I don’t care when I actually do.
Then, when I’m ready to make a different choice–the party is over, I’m not out to brunch with friends, I’m back from vacation, and it’s just another meal–I do whatever I would normally do. The only exception is if I really, truly, just don’t feel like it. If my “usual” is dessert after lunch and dinner, but today I’d rather start with a piece of fruit at lunch, then I eat it. But I have to be honest with myself–it doesn’t work to try to convince myself that I should only want a piece of fruit. And this goes for the other direction as well–if my “usual” is a piece of fruit and I really want dessert, I have to be honest with myself about that, too. Again, the act of trying to convince myself creates too high of stakes and too much emotion. So, I have a serving of what I really want while practicing being neutral, and then I get back to my normal routine.
This works with other habits and routines I’m trying to get back to, too. Stopped going to the gym? Letting myself stay up too late? Need to call my parents more often? I observe it. And then allow myself to do one thing that I used to do that helped me maintain that behavior in the past. I only commit to trying ONE thing. It may be as small as putting it on my calendar or packing my gym bag. I break the inertia, do that one thing and observe it without judgement. And then try again.
And before too long, it will be just another day.
Marjorie Hundtoft is a middle school science and health teacher. She can be found practicing neutral observations, picking up heavy things, and putting them back down again in Portland, Oregon. You can now read her at Progressive-Strength.com .
Just to be clear, the new year starts Monday. Cool your jets. (Reblog)
It’s never made sense to me to start new year’s resolutions on January 1. Set yourself up for success, not failure. Really the new year begins the first Monday after new year’s day. I know there are lots of problems with new year’s resolutions. We’ve certainly blogged lots about that. But if you like them, take heart. They start tomorrow.
Changing my mind about metrics: how counting can be cool
This year, 2020, is the third year in a row that I’m counting my workout days. I’ve been in the 218 in 2018 and 219 in 2019 FB groups, and these experiences have helped me realized that counting can be a positive, motivating tool in my health-to-me pursuits. I also bought a fake-o Fitbit, which I used off and on in 2019. I plan to use it more on than off in 2020. Again, allowing myself access to data about my activity is proving more useful than scary. Of course, context is everything, so the numbers don’t say much by themselves. But over time, they do reveal patterns that I am finding useful. Take a look at my blog post from 2019 about changing my mind about metrics, and I hope you’ll tell me what you think about your numbers, if you collect that sort of thing.
Taking a breather from bike travel
(FYI, this post tips more into the feminist side of the blog than the fitness).
I just finished a 10 day bike trip in Cambodia and Thailand, which I wrote about here and here. ended that second post with the realization that I am going to take a bit of a breather from organized bike trips for a while – for reasons both petty and metaphysical.
First, the petty. I’ve already written about how I don’t always mesh well with the rhythms of someone else’s organization, or the impulses of a group. Some of it is just my own fierce independence – I travel alone because I enjoy being alone, which puzzles people who prefer to hang out after dinner, usually drinking, while I go to bed early and read or listen to podcasts.
But there is also the more petty, judgy stuff. I can get miffed about someone eating all the bananas, or vigilant about politics, or judgemental about the homesick American working as an expat in Mongolia who bitterly complains about the weird bones in the meat, or the lonely Slovenian who is just drifting from country to country and who steals the good hotel rooms every night. I am judgy about people who want to be entertained all the time, or who think “Sri Lankan” is a language, or whose primary stories about cycling in Myanmar all involve drunken escapades. Or who correct my paddling five times in a short kayak paddle. I can be kind of a (silently) judgy bitch when I’m put into close proximity with strangers. And fighting this tendency isn’t super relaxing.
But it’s more than that, of course. It’s about what it means to see a country when you’re traveling in a pack. Even as you’re seeing a land from the tactile place of a bike seat, you’re encased in the shell of a group, riding past things you want to explore because it’s not on the itinerary. It becomes about the group dynamics, the group’s feelings about the guide, group members’ digestive issues, typical holiday-type complaints about weak wifi or “bad service.” On my own, meat with weird bones in it becomes part of the adventure; in a group, it’s a disappointment.
This encasement means that you are always seeing a country through a whole range of filters – the pace, the guide’s choices, the rest of the group’s experience, the fatigue that comes from following someone else’s rhythm. It’s a great experience – you’re still toiling up hills and whizzing down them, you still see the rock shaped like an elephant or the kid waving at you – but it’s always mediated by things outside of your control.
To really feel the pull of a country, I have to have space for serendipity. When I step back, I realize that my most powerful memories of traveling in Asia are the ones where I wasn’t on a bike, where I wandered and then found myself alone with local people. Spending a day with a monk I met at a temple at sunset in Mandalay, hiring a guide to take me on an 18 mile hike through the mountains of central Myanmar, climbing a temple in Bagan at sunrise with a 13 year old boy on a bicycle, meeting two young couples and a baby at a restaurant in Xian, China, on New Year’s Eve, and hearing their yearning for a more free life, watching Harry and Meghan’s wedding with an 85 year old Bhutanese woman at a homestay in the mountains. She peeled me a mango and we oohed together at the dress.
Sometimes these random encounters are with other travelers – usually solo women. Fiona, the American expat teacher working in Asia who became my companion in Hoi An, Vietnam a couple of years ago. On this trip, Aisha, the young woman from England I met in Phnom Penh, and Ivanna, the Polish woman from Berlin in my hotel in Singapore who took my photo while I did 108 sun salutations by the pool on New Year’s morning, and who later tried to tell me, in miniscule English, what this trip meant to her. Her halting words were full of emotion: “I end 10 man, no 10 year with man, I travel. I must learn English!” I squeezed her hand and told her I understood. She kissed me on both cheeks and gave me a huge hug, seeing each other beyond words.
I experience the world differently when I’m not with a group, and it’s the way I need to experience it, to find myself.
On this trip, I had a throughline of another voice as I rode, listening to Trevor Noah’s memoir of growing up in South Africa. It’s riveting and powerful and heart-filling and provocative – listen to it if you haven’t, go, now, shoo – and it also inspired my own critical gaze on myself. What IS it I’m seeking from riding in so many places? What have I learned from seeing so many developing countries close up, from working for more than 12 years in intimate relationship with a group of youth in Uganda?
Before I went to Uganda for the first time, an African American woman who’d also lived in east Africa said to me, in a slightly dry voice, “you know, you’re always just going to be a white woman in Africa.” At the time, I was a bit offended – my relationship with the kids in the project I worked on was special! I could belong! But of course, she was right – though my understanding of what that means has evolved every year, with every visit to east Africa and to different Asian countries. And by that, I think I mean that my understanding of what it means to have western privilege gets deeper with every visit.
Western, white, cis privilege means that even when I feel anxious and watchful about the homophobic comments of my Cambodian guide, I know that I’m not actually going to be hurt. I’m not going to be the ostracized nephew, the correctively raped wife. Western, white privilege means that I can toil up a hill in the blazing heat for fun, passing the scowling man corralling his skinny cows, waving merrily at the children who don’t have shoes. I can complain about being tired or hungry without ever having experienced hunger or the exhaustion of poverty in my life. Western white privilege means I can ride in a jeep, protected by UN peacekeepers every 100 m or so, because I’ve decided on a whim to go see the Congolese gorillas, and to be surprised when a young girl who has never had a truly peaceful day in her life spits at me.
Western, white, cis privilege means that I can always leave a situation that feels uncomfortable or hard. It means that my voice will matter if things go wrong. I have money, I have insurance, I have the protection of my consulate, I have the container of a group. So I can be cavalier with heat, with physical labour, and with the impact of where I spend my money. And, I realized, I have been cavalier about my carbon footprint.
When I arrived back in the land of TVs in every restaurant, I was surrounded by the gutting images of Australia burning. Right where I rode last winter. And overwhelmed with outrage about climate change denial. And then I realized I can’t avoid looking at my own travel and what it means from an environmental perspective anymore. Intersectional feminism 101: a critical gaze on my own privilege, at my own footprint.
Traveling is part of my identity. Traveling on my bike is an even bigger part. But at the end of this excellent trip, I feel a tipping point – I have to look at the impact of exercising my privilege. I have to live into my own ethics. And that means that instead of accumulating more and more experiences, I have to figure out what to make of the unique, rare, privileged knowledge I’ve gained from those experiences. I have to determine how to channel that energy into fighting climate change, fighting harder for equity, fighting harder as an ally. I don’t know exactly what that means yet, but I owe it to that young girl who spit at me to figure it out.
Fieldpoppy is Cate Creede, who lives in Toronto and is rethinking her identity.