Feminist reflections on fitness, sport, and health
Author: Tracy I
Writer, feminist, vegan blogging at veganpractically.com, runner, philosopher, yogi, knitter, co-founder of Fit Is a Feminist Issue, co-author of Fit at Mid-Life: A Feminist Fitness Journey (Greystone Books, 2018). Current project: a work-in-progress book and blog on imperfect veganism (see veganpractically.com).
A couple of months ago I moved back to Toronto after 33 years in London, Ontario. I last lived in Toronto when I was a Master’s student at U of T from 1987-88. Both I and the city have changed a lot since then. So I had nothing familiar as far as working goes to tap into when I got here in May. Not only that, but my routines had fallen to the side completely over the winter as I prepped for my move. And finally, it’s been a stinking hot summer, not a great time to get back into running.
So when a friend suggested that we try out the Y, which turns out to be just a 12-minute walk from where I live, it sounded like the perfect solution for so many reasons. Most notably, if we were going to join a gym, we wanted it to be a relaxed place with a truly inclusive vibe. The Y definitely ticks that box. It’s also convenient, has great equipment, lots of programming, and a 25m pool. We joined, and here’s what I’ve tried so far:
Aquafit — you can do this 45-minute class in shallow or deep water. So far, I’ve only signed up for shallow. I had a bit of a misconception about aquafit, I have to admit. I thought it would be easy and not feel like much of a workout. It turns out to be a good workout, very much more exerting than I anticipated, especially the part where you use the water dumbbells to create resistance. I’ve been using the blue ones, which are apparently easier than the yellow. I can’t imagine feeling ready for the yellow. But then that is the wonderful thing about resistance training — it makes you stronger.
MuscleFit — another 45-minute class, this time in the gym. Each participant gathers a mixture of light-medium and medium-heavy barbells and dumbbells for a guided full body workout. Again it’s a tough one, where the muscle fatigue is from high reps rather than heavy weights (even the “heavy” weights aren’t especially heavy). The first time I did it I overdid the barbell weights and had to lighten my load. I did better the second time, and have also learned over time that it’s okay to set the weights down and do body weight or take a break if needed. Will I keep doing that? Maybe on occasion but I also want to reintroduce resistance training on my own. The Y has lots of equipment in multiple different rooms and studios. So even when it’s busy it looks as if no one has to fight too hard to get the weights they need, and I remember enjoying the community atmosphere in the weight room.
Yoga — I haven’t found a hot yoga studio yet and will likely wait until the fall to do that, given the heat this summer. But I wanted to get back into a yoga class and it turns out that the Y has those too. I’ve gone a couple of times and had a good experience. Not the most challenging yoga or the most careful instruction, but it’s in a pleasant studio with loads of space, and as with anything, if you know what you’re doing you can make yoga as challenging or as unchallenging as you wish.
Lane swimming — I couldn’t be around a 25m pool for too many days without feeling tempted to get back to lane swimming. I did that this week for the first time, gathering up my gear from back in the day with the intention of doing 40 x 25m in 30 minutes. That would be a pretty slow pace and I didn’t quite make it. I started off with 10 x 25m of breast stroke, which took me to 10 minutes, then cut back from 20 to 15 x 25m freestyle, following by another 10 of breast stroke. It was a lot tougher than I expected it to be but now I have a benchmark and a goal. The goal is to get back to 40 x 25m by the end of the summer. I have no idea if that is realistic. I want to add drills and workouts to my lane swimming at some point. I remember enjoying that kind of training. Being in the pool again feels incredibly good.
As far as running goes, I’ve been out a few times and have reconnected with the “getting started” series of the Nike Run Club again. It’s been a sticky hot summer and I miss my running crew and my familiar routes. But if I can get back to 3x a week, I’ll be pleased with that.
Living in a large urban centre again means a lot more walking in my day to day than before. The traffic here is horrendous at unpredictable times, and if at all possible you want to avoid paying for parking. So much is easily accessible to me on foot, and though people complain about the transit, I adore the subway and live conveniently close to a few stations.
So that’s my report on establishing some fitness routines in a new city. As with anything, it can feel daunting at first. And the loss of community (in my case my running group and the hot yoga studio I frequented) is no small thing. But now that I’ve reconnected with the Y, it’s been an enjoyable experience that’s put me in touch with new and familiar activities in a relaxed atmosphere that offers a sense of community and belonging that I really like.
Image description: Overhead shot of gym stuff lined up on a towel: shower shoes, swim cap, goggles, swim suit, and running shoes. Photo by Tracy I
Image description: Outside shot of a woman (Christine) with dark medium long hair and wearing a short-sleeved shirt, holding a young boy while he climbs on a rope climber in a playground, with dappled light, a fence, and a tree in the background. She is looking up at the boy and the boy is looking up at the next rung of the rope. Photo credit: Viceth Vong.
“Why aren’t you doing another triathlon this year?” an acquaintance asked.
I gulped. “I’m having some, uh, health issues,” I said. I was keeping things vague out of necessity—I had no damn idea what was happening, only that I had a constant (and I mean 100% of the time) headache that reached an unbearable level by the time I left work for the day. I went to sleep pretty much as soon as I got home—not only because being in pain is exhausting, but because sleep was the only time I didn’t feel awful. My life goals had gone from: publish a book, rock my career in publishing, and finish a tri even though I can barely swim, to: get through the day.
In the year after the pain started, I had test after test. They all came back negative, which was a good thing on the one hand (who wants to have a brain tumor or Lyme disease), and utterly frustrating on the other. After each of my appointments at Boston’s various prestige medical clinics, I wanted to scream, Why can’t you just tell me what was wrong with me?
Eventually, through a process of elimination, they diagnosed me with occipital neuralgia (nerve pain in the upper neck) and idiopathic chronic migraines (idiopathic just means that they have no flipping idea why it’s happening.) I tried treatment after treatment (Botox injections, handfuls of pills, various psychologic therapies) but the headaches wouldn’t budge. I was in bed for the vast majority of most days. The body I toned through hours of training atrophied.
Eventually I went to the Cleveland Clinic for a three-week “headache camp,” as a friend called it. There they tweaked my medications but more importantly, they taught me more than I could’ve imagined about headaches and how to maneuver your lifestyle to live with—and hopefully eventually prevent—them.
One of their prescriptions was to get back to exercising. I had all but stopped as the pain consumed me. There were a few scientifically backed reasons for this recommendation: exercise has been shown to reduce the severity of pain in people with many chronic pain conditions; it also greatly helps with the anxiety and depression that often hits people with chronic illnesses of all stripes (and that certainly hit me).
For me, it also allowed me to get back in touch with that former triathaloning self. I started with walking—an exercise I still love. I added yoga and light weight training. Slowly but surely, I started to feel better physically and emotionally. Now, I walk for an hour a few times a week, do pilates at least once a week, and I’m currently attempting to reintroduce weight training after that fell out of my routine. On days I exercise, I feel less achey—and also like my body is my friend again, not something that revolted against me. I feel, too, that I am strong—I hadn’t realized how upsetting it was to my sense of self to think of myself as weak. Now, I am not just someone with a disabling condition, I am someone who can keep up with her son on the playground, who can squat down and lift his four-year-old body, who doesn’t have to fear the idea of trudging around a theme park all day.
I have greater exercise ambitions, too: I plan to conquer a ten-mile hike in the next few months, and an even longer one by the end of the year, with the eventual goal of walking 100 miles or so on Europe’s El Camino Santiago. I have no thoughts of trying for another triathlon, but thanks in part to regular, light exercise, I’m doing much more than just getting through the day now.
If you have a story about exercising during or after illness, we’d love to hear it!
Christine Junge is a writer living in San Jose, CA. She’s currently working on a novel, and blogs about parenting with a chronic illness/disability at ThanksForNothingBody.substack.com
Image description: word cloud in the shape of a simple flower, filled with the Words of the Year from the post below. Generated for free from wordcloud.app
Do you have a word that captures something of an envisioned 2025 touchstone for you? For the past few years we at Fit Is a Feminist Issue have had fun choosing words-of-the-year (#woty). You can see past choices here:
Sometimes we post updates partway through the year to check-in about how it’s going. On occasion, the call for an update sends at least a few of us scrambling to remember what word we had chosen. Some years we choose better than others. To me, the very process of choosing a word-of-the-year is a fun and sometimes revealing attempt to have a thematic focus for the year to come. Today, we present this year’s choices.
Natalie: Steady
Steady is my word. I want to be steady in my exercise, writing, crafting and paid work.
I’m using my bicycle commute to experiment with smaller distances more often. My smart watch is giving me a lot of insight into how inconsistent I have been in 2024.
Since I’m working on my balance I also want to be steady on my feet and on my bike. Re-training my brain is a big part of this.
Steady as she goes!
Samantha: Engage
Engage is my word for 2025. On the work front it’s my first research leave in eight years since winter 2017. I’ve never gone that long without leave before and I’m keen to re-engage with ideas, and arguments, and writing. I’m also feeling keen to engage with all the outdoor activities I love, hiking and biking and back country canoe camping. I’m also feeling the need to see more of the people I love, to engage more with the people I care about. I’ve had a few significant losses in recent years, two more in the past few months, and I’m struck anew by how short and precious life is. But then there’s also the big scary political world, getting scarier by the day as Trump talks of leaving the WHO, escalating the death penalty, taking over Canada, and forced mass deportation Add to that the rise of the right here in Canada and I’m having to fight very hard against the impulse to hide under my blankets. Instead I’m resolving to engage, to take a stand, to write letters, campaign door to door, to do something.
Tracy: Confidence
I went back and forth between “ease” and “confidence,” and settled on the latter because I want to let go of all the various little insecurities and areas where I’ve lacked confidence, and trust my own capacities. It’s time. In my work, I’m returning to the classroom after a couple of years away, with not one but two classes starting in January. You’d think that after 32 years of teaching anyone would just be filled to the brim with confidence. But that turns out not to be the case. However, with my WOTY this year, I’m going to stare that down from day one.
I also want to pursue my fitness activities with confidence. Instead of “I can’t do that,” I’m going to go in with the attitude that I can. I can lift heavy things. I can do push-ups and renegade rows. I can do unmodified chataranga in the yoga flow. I can do speed work, and tempo runs, and endurance runs, and easy runs. And I can factor actual rest into my fitness routines. And I am perfectly capable of maintaining a regular routine.
Then there is my photography. I have a lot to learn still, but I can also feel confident that I have a good eye and that I am capable of getting better.
Finally, I want to tackle my big move to Toronto with Diane, coming up this summer, with confidence. I’m already confident that it’s going to be amazing once we are there. So what’s the problem? Between now and settling into a new place in TO, we need to find the right place, sell our places, get rid of excess stuff, pack up the remaining stuff, and coordinate two moves. But we can do this! People do it all the time.
So this year, whenever that annoying voice in my head starts planting doubt, I am going to counter it with a confident rejoinder.
Elan: Consistency
Sloooooowwwww was my 2024 WoTY. For the first part of the year, especially when I was cycling, SLOW came to mind only when I wasn’t meeting my desired pace. But over the year SLOW shifted from an excuse or an apology to something I tried to embrace. The mindfulness exercises I did reggularly around lunch time using my Oura app also gave me permission to slow down.
Over the winter break I read about how avoidance and procrastination activates in our bodies a stress response that builds anxiety. In contrast, making a start (however slowly) reduces anxiety and builds our capacity to adapt and grow. My hope in 2025 is to continue to embrace slowness, and from that build more consistent habits, which I’ve found even more difficult than slowing down. So consistency will be my WoTY for 2025.
Catherine: Compass
Collective was my 2024 WOTY. Realizing that a lot of my happiness comes from being part of a collective, I engaged in lots of activities with my various groups– from the bloggers at Sam’s 60th birthday party to book club to traveling, cycling and swimming with friends and family. I feel lucky to be a part of a number of communities, and I spent more time being active and present.
2024 was also a year in which I (more or less) came to terms with the fact that I have limited time and energy and resources to devote to people, places and pursuits. This year, I’m focusing on physical health and strength, creativity (mainly through writing, but also some art/craft) and being with people I care about.
The destinations are clear, but I still need help in navigating there. So my WOTY for 2025 is Compass, to help me find my way to the people, places, and pursuits I value so much. Yes, I may take the scenic route sometime, and there will be detours. And traffic jams. But as long as I have something to guide me, I think 2025 has the potential to be a great year for journeys and destinations.
Nicole: Believin’
First of all, as is customary for me, I have forgotten what my word for 2024 was and I am not looking because I don’t want to look back. I want to look forward. Not wanting to reminisce, is not typical for me, but that’s how I feel right now.
The word I have chosen for 2025 is “Believin’”. A few years ago, on our first trip anywhere after the lock down of 2020 and most of 2021, my husband and I went to Vancouver and Victoria for a brief, very welcome, change of scenery. It was early summer. We were warned ahead of our arrival at the Granville Island Hotel, that there would be a party in the hotel on our first night there and it might be a bit noisy. At first, we were not thrilled, expecting it to be noisy in a stressful way. However, much to our delight, while we were cozy in our room around 11 pm, we were serenaded by the sound of a group of early teenage girls singing “Don’t Stop Believin” by Journey at the top of their lungs at the bat mitzvah taking place in the party room below. it was just the tonic our hardened, still pandemic-wearing souls needed in that moment. And, so, it occurs to me that my soul needs my word for 2025 to be “Believin”. Whether it’s toward my workouts, my family life or the world at large, I am going to try and summon the word, “Believin” – Believin’ in possibility, strength, moments of joy, gratitude and peace in all “this”.
Diane: Enjoy
I loved EXPLORE, my word for 2024 and I did quite a bit of exploring about myself, though not enough exploring in my surroundings. I’m tempted to keep it for another year but the areas where I fell down relate more to learning to relax and enjoy what is happening in the moment.
Realistically, relax is too…relaxing to suit me so I’m going to work on “enjoy” – enjoying my new job, my new grandson, my new cottage and the surrounding area, and doing physical and artistic things that give me joy with friends or on my own.
Amanda: Limits
My word of the year is Limits. As in recognizing, accepting and respecting my own limits. Not easy but important.
Cate: Pathways
My word is pathways. It’s the year I turn 60 and make some decisions about the directions I’d like to curve the rest of my life toward.
Amy: Initiate
I feel like my year started over the summer with a big birthday, so the mid-year/new-year brings a good opportunity for reflection and a fresh perspective. My WOTY is initiate – just get started and see what happens instead of holding off for fear of failure, not having enough time, perfectionism, etc. I don’t usually also add a motto but based on a birthday astrology reading I’m adding one this year: go big AND go home. Lastly, I’ve been on a colorful kick, trying to wear more colors and expand how I see color in my life. I’ve even purchased a hot pink planner for the year, where pink is formerly a no-go color for me.
Martha: Replenish
My word is replenish. Like the meme says, I’ve been driving full tilt with the engine light blinking and the gas tank on fumes. Time to rest, refocus and replenish literally and figuratively. Sixty five is on the horizon and time to think on my goals for the next decade and more.
So those are ours. What’s your word of the year for 2025? And why did you choose it?
Close-up of a hand grasping a freshly glazed donut oozing with icing, ready to satisfy a sweet tooth craving
A year ago today, I posted a blog here about the jarring effect of seeing a very thin Brie Larson, playing the lead role in Lessons in Chemistry, preparing food that she never seemed to eat. I was not alone in trying to puzzle through the strange effect that her appearance had in relation to the show’s rich stylization of food. FIFI stats tell me that at least 5489 readers clicked the link to open that post in 2024.
The nerve that the blog touched, perhaps, is the nerve hit, repeatedly, by the horrible lessons served every day to North American women for dinner and dessert. “You should be perfectly thin. If you are perfectly thin, we will adore and praise you.” But also, “You must not be imperfectly thin. If you are imperfectly thin, scaring us with intimations of death and disease, we will shame and shun you.” Putting food near the perfectly thin celebrity reminds us of what she eats, or maybe doesn’t eat, to look the way she does. We see the food, we see the body, and the red flags appear. The imperfectly thin body, we fear, serves as the star’s understudy. It’s like the optical illusion that has us looking at a duck—no, wait, a rabbit! The mind is not quite sure what it’s perceiving. Should we clap or hold the applause?
The trouble with making all of this explicit is that drawing attention to the problem may look like blaming the victim. I see the jutting collarbones and hear the rumours and turn away out of respect for the privacy of the woman whose life is so mercilessly mined for entertainment and exploitation. She may be naturally tiny or she may be suffering. It’s none of my business. Except it is, insofar as her body elicits a visceral response, reminding me of my own vexed relation to the story it tells, or doesn’t tell.
I started thinking about Brie Larson again because I’ve been thinking, lately, about elite women runners and the price they may pay to achieve their goals. Last year, I wished them all happy holiday eating in my post. But it’s becoming increasingly difficult, for me, to ignore the problem of disordered eating and running excellence. In some ways, it’s even harder to have this conversation than it is to talk about Hollywood celebrities. There might be a world in which actors could all gain weight and continue to play characters in movies, but could women marathoners carry any weight and still be competitive? And, if we want to respect both their professionalism and their boundaries, should we not simply agree that they are born lean, mean, running machines and move on? Only, reports concerning college women athletes suggest that it’s probably not just all good nutrition and good genes, all of the time. The idea that a decade after graduation, North American runners have grown out of whatever food-related issues they might have had as young women—well, I wonder. (A brave post by Kelowna runner Christy Lovig addresses this subject head on.)
Recently, I wrote here about a marathon that went sideways. One of the stranger thoughts I had, in the final excruciating hour of that race, was that donuts were to blame for my lack-lustre performance. In the cacophony of nasty voices that I had to listen to, one was louder than the rest: “Too many donuts.” To be clear, this was not a reflection on whether my nutrition plan might have failed me—that more protein and fewer simple carbs might have made for more muscle and less fat. No, this was a moral judgement: “You are a bad person because you eat donuts and now you are being punished for it.”
I feel lucky in not having had to struggle with disordered eating since brushing up against it as a teen. But like most women I know, I carry an internal critic quick to judge and shame my appearance and the appetite that has me relishing donuts whenever I can get my hands on a good one. Most of the time, I ignore her. But when I’m sad or vulnerable, there she is, observing that I want too much, whatever that “too much” might be—wanting to run a marathon or to eat a second piece of pie. I had better prove it’s all worth it–by running a BQ every time I take on the 26.2 distance, for instance–or make myself small.
So, this holiday season, I wish everyone enjoyment of their favourite festive food. But I also wish for honest conversation, at the family table, about the damaging lessons we learned as girls about appetite; about the casual comments made by friends and family that reinforce these lessons, decades later; about the runners, including me, who work to maintain the illusions of control and self-discipline that our culture values so highly, at such great cost.
Alison Conway lives and works in Kelowna, British Columbia, on the traditional and unceded territory of the Syilx Okanagan people.
Image description: Tracy smiling, wearing sunglasses, cap covered with patterned buff for ear warmth, running jacket and top, with pathway, frost-covered grass, autumn trees, and a bench in the background.
Pre-pandemic I got an Achilles injury that I didn’t give sufficient time to heal. As a result, it took me out of consistent running for about four years and some months. So from Spring 2019 to about a month ago, my running routine ranged from zero times a week to short periods of 2-3 times a week. Even when I ran more than my regular Sundays with the group (which I can no longer keep up with pace-wise), my schedule was haphazard and sporadic, unfocused and without a sense of purpose. Indeed, running became a source of stress rather than joy, a “have-to” rather than a “want-to.” That all culminated in a not-fun 8K trail race a few weekends ago.
The aftermath of the 8K presented itself to me as a decision-point in my running career: quit or change my approach. Though I felt discouraged enough to quit, I also had to be honest with myself that I had not prepared as well as I could have. I went in knowing I could cover 8K somehow or other, but I certainly had no reason to assume I’d have a strong performance that day. For five years I have been running without goals and not even a rough sense of routine. I have picked myself up and brushed myself off many times in my life after many different set-backs. And that is what I decided to do this time. I opted for a fresh start.
I had some criteria in mind for the fresh start. First of all, I was quite clear about my initial goal: to establish a running routine where I would get out the door three to four times a week. I wanted an app that had some training plans or coached runs, but it had to be free. Not initially free with in-app purchases, but truly free. Finally, it had to be realistic and motivating at the same time. After some searching around, I landed on the Nike Run Club. Apparently, it’s been going for years, but it was new to me.
The Nike Run Club (NRC) is an app that tracks your runs, which you can do your own way or by using the guided runs in their library. I installed the app the morning after the 8K trail race, determined to start afresh, as a beginner. The app has the perfect starter set of runs with their head coach, Coach Bennett. There are no hidden costs. You can do the starter program (or not) and then move on to other coached runs or training plans designed for 5K, 10K, half marathon, or marathon distances. All told, they have 289 guided runs in the collection. You can repeat any of them whenever you want. You can bookmark the ones you like so they’re easy to find again. They vary in type — including easy runs, speed runs and fartlek, long runs (over 30 minutes), short runs (under 30 minutes), runs based on distance, and “mindful runs” that partner with Headspace.
It is, as my decision to use it required, entirely free. Unlike other apps that I’ve used, which require a subscription, or bring you in for a free trial and then require a subscription, the entire NRC library is available from the beginning for free and remains so. I like that. There are also no ads or pop-ups. Yes, the Nike branding is all over it. But so far I haven’t felt as if there is any hard-sell going on. Now maybe that just means that their marketing team is super smart in reeling people in. But I’m finding it way less in-your-face than ads and pop-ups that I’ve seen on other platforms.
I also like that it interfaces with Spotify, where I have my running playlists (there is also an option for Apple Music). When the coaching is going on, the music fades into the background. When the coaching takes a break, the music comes back up to volume. They have suggested playlists or you can use whatever you are listening to on your Spotify.
The very day after the trail race, I got started with the First Run in the Get Started Collection of 9 runs: First Run, Next Run, First Speed Run, First Long Run, Next Speed Run, Third Run, First Fartlek Run, Next Long Run, Easy Run with Jes. Other than “Easy Run with Jes,” all of these are coached by Coach Bennett, the Nike Run Club Global Head Coach. He’s a light-hearted guy who is extremely motivating and I think he’s just great. I have done every one of those runs in the starter group, plus a few more. He has successfully inspired me in just one short month (the trail race was back on September 28) to get out there regularly, 3-4 times a week.
The First Run and the Next Run are 20 minutes and 22 minutes, respectively, and the whole point of them is to go easy. Really easy. Easier than you think you should go. He coaches for continuous running, and I didn’t think I could do it. But the day after my slog of an 8K trail race, I ran 20 minutes continuously. Yes, the pace was slow and the effort was easy. But that is how it was meant to be. The run was coached as a recovery run, with the goal of an enjoyable run at an easy pace. I did it and amazed myself enough to feel, for the first time in years, like I couldn’t wait to get back out there for my next run.
The same thing happened after the 22 minute run. Continuous running at an easy and enjoyable pace, with Coach Bennett along the way explaining that it’s okay to run easy, and also that we won’t always be running easy. I like the NRC approach, which is that running should be fun, not dreaded. I can also relate to what he says about the reason many runners don’t enjoy running is that they go out too fast and then can’t keep up with the pace they’ve set. That feels like a set-back. Instead, these runs are coached to go out slow.
The speed runs also include easy warm-ups followed by intervals at different effort levels, with a recovery pace in between. For example, the First Speed Run has a short warm-up at about a 3/10 effort, followed by 8×1 minute intervals at your “5K effort,” which is about a 7-8/10. I’m sure I’m still struggling to find my 5K effort and pace, but it was fun to push the pace, knowing it was only for a minute at a time and that a minute of easy running (not walking) would follow.
The long runs also start off easy and stay at a pretty relaxed effort, but they do pick up a bit. What I like is the whole idea of easing into a rhythm and stride, rather than flying out of the gate when my body isn’t warmed up yet. On Sunday I did 50 minutes of continuous running without taking a walk break, covering about 6.5K. It’s not my fastest ever, but it felt great. Most of all, I feel excited to get back out there next time for some speed work.
The message that is repeated a lot through these coached runs is that each run has a purpose. Easy runs are for running easy for recovery and enjoyment. Long runs are for building endurance (among other things). Speed work is for, obviously, building speed and becoming familiar with your different “gears.” And tempo runs are for sustaining a faster pace, not race pace but faster than a long run, over a set distance. I like that approach a lot because, as I said, my running was feeling aimless and without purpose before. I would just go out there and aim to cover the ground without any intentionality about pace or the point of it all. I have really appreciated the message that if you are running — especially in a long run or an easy run — at a pace where you can’t sustain it without stopping or feeling like you need to take a walk break, then you’re pushing too hard.
I learned in the Running Room system of 10-1 intervals (10 minutes of running followed by 1 minute of walking). I used to really look forward for the walk breaks. But I am much more enjoying running in a way that I don’t feel the need for a walk break. I can find my rhythm and not interrupt it. And over the course of the month my pace for the same effort is picking up.
So far the hardest coached run that I’ve done is the one called “Funky Fartlek,” where you aren’t told before a speed interval how long it will last. That one involved some intervals at efforts of 7, 8, and 9 out of ten. And I couldn’t sustain all the intervals without slowing down. I needed a couple of walk breaks that time. But that’s okay. I did it and it felt challenging. I’m starting to get a feel for my different gears. And mostly I am learning that except for my 9-effort, I can recover with a slower run interval instead of a walk interval.
The NRC approach won’t work for everyone but it is definitely working for me. Not everyone is going to want to do coached running. And if you do, not everyone will like Coach Bennett’s style (light and a bit cheesy, but overall likeable and motivating). There are of course other coaches, and I am sure I will encounter them eventually. I enjoyed the easy run with Jes. Finally, not everyone is going to like being encouraged to go easy on easy runs. I remember back when I was training for triathlon, I read a book called Run Less, Run Faster, by Bill Pierce, Scott Muir, and Ray Moss, and they said two things that really hit home.
The first thing they said that I had not heard before was that most runners do their distance runs at too hard an effort and too fast a pace. Until I read that I thought that it made sense to go out for Sunday long runs at the fastest pace I could sustain for the distance or time (assuming 10-1 intervals). If I was going to hold back at all, it was because unless I held back I wouldn’t make it to the end. I stuck with that mindset because that was what everyone else seemed to be doing. And especially when I was running with people, I had to do that to keep up.
The second thing they said was that every run should have a specific training purpose. According to their program, speed intervals (on a track), tempo runs, and long runs were the magic three. Their program, for anyone interested, is those three runs plus two cross-training cardio sessions a week.
At the time, when I first picked up the book, it didn’t motivate me. Looking back, I think it’s because, though the ideas of running with purpose and holding back effort on the long run were new and different, the book was really focused on performance. And of course it was — it was aimed at an audience of people who wanted to improve their times. Nothing fun about it.
What motivates me about the NRC is that it is aimed at an audience of people who want to enjoy running. They really encourage finding the fun in it. Maybe for the first time or maybe again. I’m happy to have discovered it because I have not enjoyed running at any point in my life as much as I have in the past month. I needed a fresh approach and that’s part of why I’m enjoying myself.
An out-of-town friend who also wanted to ease back into running jumped into the NRC with me a month ago and we motivate each other by checking in after each run. That too has helped me keep going. I’m enjoying the mutual encouragement and sense of accomplishment. It’s fun to share the joy.
That’s my story of a fresh start with a new approach. I went it as a beginner, taking up the “get started” program as if I was learning everything for the first time. I’m not sure if it will get me to a pace that I will once again be able to keep up with my running group. I guess we’ll see. Right now, I’m having fun, feeling excited about my running, and seeing some progress.
If you have a fresh start story I’d love to hear about it in the comments!
Image description: three-photo collage with the heading “Howing Ghost Trail Run, Aylmer ON, September 28, 2024,” from left to right: left is a group shot of five smiling runners pre-race (Julie, Ed, Pat, Anita, Tracy), with trees in the background; middle is a selfie of a smiling older woman (Tracy) in a pink tank, black ballcap, and trail in the background; right is a post race selfie of four smiling runners (Tracy, Ed, and Pat in back, Julie in front) all wearing t-shirts that say Howling Ghost Trail Race on them.
My favourite month is September, and it’s not just because it’s my birthday month. I love it for the perfect weather and the changing palette of nature. Cool mornings, less intense sun even in the middle of the day, hints of red and orange starting to show among the greenery. What better time of year for trail running than the early fall!
So that’s how I let peer pressure push me into an 8K trail race after I said I was done with official running events. I call it a race, but with my current 8K time being slower than my 10K used to be, it’s just an outing, on a trail, with 140 other people, followed by lunch. Here’s how it went.
First of all, though the title of my post refers to “joy,” there was little of that for me during the run. I mean, it’s always enjoyable to be with my running crew, and five of us made it out that day. It’s fun to get out of town, even if it’s just a little bit out of town. The Howling Ghost Trail Race was in Aylmer, at the Springwater Conservation Area.
We’ve been having brilliant weather lately, but of course leading up to race day the forecast probability of precipitation increased from 40% to 60% and finally settled at 80% for the time that we were scheduled to run. I fully expected to be running at least part of the trail in the pouring rain, which would have also meant navigating mud. To my great surprise, the rain held off. The prospect of it hung heavily in the air throughout, making it a muggy outing through the woods. Thank you Julie for remembering bug spray.
I had no race strategy other than, ridiculously, I had planned to do 10-1 run-walk intervals. I say “ridiculously” because I have been working my way up to 10-1 run-walk intervals gradually for the past months and I have not trained consistently enough for any length of time to actually get there. Throwing, “don’t change anything on game day” out the window, I set myself up to fail. Other than an unrealistic race strategy, which I gave up on before the first 10 minutes was up, I have one rule and one rule only that I apply when training, out for a leisure run, or doing an event: run, don’t walk, up the hills. At every hill I reminded myself of that, a rule that I cling to when everything else feels like it’s falling apart. I stuck to it almost entirely, except for one part towards the end where there was a hill, a slight levelling, and the MORE HILL. At the MORE HILL, I said “nope.”
The poorly chosen unreasonable 10-1 strategy was a mistake because it created a mental battle. It is a very bad idea to have a goal that is not realistic because, for me, it puts me in a “falling short” mindset instead of a “killing it!” mindset. If I had stuck with 6-1 intervals I would likely have had a better race. What made it so miserable? I simply could not keep my heart rate in a reasonable range. I was in the red zone every time I checked my heart rate. That meant that I had to pull back to a walk in order to try to recover. And since it was an event, I didn’t give myself enough time to properly recover. The result: an uncomfortable 8K where I felt out of my element, old (I had just turned 60 a few days before), and out of shape.
I came in 61/68 running the 8K, with a time of 1:08:59. I have run much faster 10Ks. Overall, the race was hard and I felt discouraged by it. Still and all, I covered the ground, so that’s something. On a positive note, the event had a great vibe and the folks at Persistence Racing plotted out a well-marked course on a relatively easy wooded trail, nicely groomed, with few hills. I would love to go back some time this fall when the leaves are changing.
Last week Sam referenced a 2020 post she wrote about aging and keeping up your speed. Even though I commented on Sam’s older post that my objective these days is just to get out there, I would be lying if I said my time didn’t sting a bit. I’ve never been fast, but I’ve also never been slower than I am now. Resounding in my head are the words from Sam’s 2020 post: “Older athletes get slower and less strong, not because they’re older, but rather because they train less than younger athletes.”
I am definitely training less than I did when I was 50. That’s why I couldn’t keep my heart rate under control. It has nothing to do with my age and everything to do with how I prepared (or did not adequately prepare) for the 8K trail event.
As a result of all of this, I have embarked on a plan to actually recapture some joy in my fall running, whether on trails or not. That plan includes some coached runs using the (free) Nike Run Club app. So far, the two runs I’ve done from the app (“First Run” and “Next Run”) have helped me connect with how good it feels to run with ease. I like the approach of setting out to run with a purpose, even if that purpose is a slow recovery run where you are not pushing too hard.
I’ll report back about the NRC experience in a month or so. Meanwhile, if you get a chance to enjoy some autumn weather out on the trails, go for it!
Image description: Black and white photo of Tracy, short-hair, wearing wide jeans, sneakers, a black jacket and sunglasses, with a camera and a bag slung across her body, walking along a walled pier with a cargo ship in the background. Photo credit: Roben Bellamo
Back in January I wrote a post about how approaching 60 feels different from approaching 50. I breezed into 50 feeling strong, energetic, and at peace. On my 50th birthday, I wrote about beautiful September days where everything felt perfect and effortless. I had pushed myself into my 50s, with what, in retrospect, seems like a punishing training schedule to prepare me for two Olympic distance triathlons that season. But at the time it didn’t feel punishing. It felt invigorating and exhilarating. At that time of life, training hard clearly agreed with me.
Things have changed since then. Today it’s more about sustainable routines that can take me through the next decade(s) without injuries. I’m back to yoga, resistance training, walking, and some very light (read: slow) running. These are all things I still enjoy and that make me feel energized and strong. I almost never sign up for events anymore, though I do succumb to peer pressure once in awhile, especially if I like the t-shirt. Hence an 8K trail race next weekend (The Howling Ghost Trail Run) with my running group.
I’m not really in the mood to have a big decade birthday this year. It’s not that I object to turning 60. I just don’t feel like having a great big party to mark the occasion. And it’s not that I’m doing nothing at all — I have a couple of upcoming celebratory meals at my favourite restaurant. Today it’s lunch with Samantha and our friend Rob, for our annual get-together in honour of our birthdays, all in 1964 within the same 25-day span. Then on my actual birthday early next week I’m going back there to have dinner with a few friends. That day will include cake. Sometime this fall there will probably be a spa getaway to St. Anne’s with another longtime friend whose birthday falls within two weeks of mine.
We don’t get to plan when we’ll be in a mood for a big party and when we won’t. And if I’ve landed anywhere at almost-60, it’s at a place where I do what I want, not necessarily what’s expected. I’m feeling more confident about my choices these days, and deciding not to have a party despite this being a “special” birthday reflects that confidence.
When we first started blogging back in 2012, Sam started a thing where she would post “Six things” about whatever. I revived that on her recent 60th, and I’m going to end my own “60 is coming” post with six things I feel good about as I get really close to 60:
No longer experiencing the need to explain myself or my choices to people.
Physically, I can still push myself but I don’t push terribly hard anymore. I’m happy with my chosen activities and I take lots of rest that I don’t feel guilty about taking.
Instead of acquiring more stuff, I’ve turned my attention to getting rid of stuff.
Great relationships with family, partner, and friends. I’ve got excellent, supportive, loving people in my life and I feel incredibly fortunate about that.
My cats, daily meditation, photography, and my vegan blog.
The future looks bright as I look ahead to retiring in the not-too distant future and building a life in a new city with my partner. We are poised for the next adventure!
All this to say that though I’m not in a party mood, I’m quite chill about the upcoming BIG birthday.
Back when Sam and I started the blog in 2012, two years prior to our 50th birthdays, we had the modest objective of tracking our road to 50, with the goal of being the fittest we’d ever been in our lives by the time we got there. We expected it to be a two-year project. We thought we would wind down the blog when we turned 50. And here we are, 12 years later.
As anyone who has been following the blog for awhile knows, Sam is prolific. I’m always in awe of how she comes up with things to write about, week-in, week-out. One of her signature approaches when we started was to write “six-things” posts. For example, “Six Things I Love about Aikido and Six Things I Struggle with” from the second month of the blog. The longevity of the approach has proven itself. See her “Six Things Sam Wants to Blog about.”
Sam is also a big fan of gratitude, and so am I. So here are my Six Things that Make Me Grateful for Samantha in My Life:
We are like-minded in so many ways, but just different enough that I keep on learning from her. When I say we are like-minded, it is hard to capture the extent to which this is true. From our philosophical sensibilities to our basic sense of academic values, from our commitment to family to our appreciation of a good sleep…more often than not I don’t have to explain myself to Sam because she already gets it.
Picking up on this, we have an ongoing conversation that we pick up and drop and pick up again, about little things and important things. It started about 31 years ago and has never stopped. Without that conversation, we would not have landed on the blog idea, the fittest by 50 challenge idea, or the Fit at Mid-Life book idea. I am grateful for the ongoing conversation and the many years of friendship that has made it possible.
Her energy for keeping the momentum of the blog going for so long. I am so grateful to have been a part of the co-founding of this wonderful community. But it’s obvious that Sam is the main driver behind the blog’s success. Because of her efforts, we have an amazing group of regular bloggers, many subscribers on various social media platforms, and have built something that we can all truly be proud to be a part of.
The opportunity to co-author with her. I have never in my life enjoyed any writing project as much as I enjoyed writing Fit at Mid-Life with Sam. We spent a few days at the Banff Centre together to write the proposal. And while writing the book, we literally used our writing sessions as breaks from work. We went to an on-campus lounge, opened up our laptops to the shared google document, and wrote together.
Her patience, care, optimism, and sense of adventure and fun, all of which combined to get me to try triathlon, to learn how to ride a road bike with clipless pedals, and formulate my fittest by 50 goal of completing an Olympic distance triathlon (I did two!).
She is practical and has integrity. It isn’t easy to be a dean, and it wasn’t easy to be a department chair. Sam does lots of things that are not super easy, and I’ve learned a lot from watching her do them.
I should add a bonus thing, which is that because of the blog and the book and our friendship, one of my favourite photo shoots ever was the one Sam and I did together with Ruth Kivilathi. It yielded some amazing photos that always lift my spirits when I look at them. So I’ll end with that. Photo credit in all the photos below goes to Ruth.
Looking forward to Sam’s party this afternoon — another talent of hers is bringing people together!
Image desciption: Collage arrangment of four photos of Sam and Tracy. Top left: Tracy leaning on Sam’s shoulder, Sam on her bike, both wearing sunglasses, slight smiles. Top right: Sam and Tracy talking to each other, white background, room divider in the background. Bottom left: Low angle shot of Tracy and Sam in an urban setting, Sam on her bike. Bottom right: Sam with bike and Tracy sitting on a ledge in front of an industrial, red brick building. Photo credit: Ruth Kivilahti.
Image description: abstract photo of a bridge railing in a diamond patter, captured using ICM (intentional camera movement) to create blur. Photo by Tracy Isaacs
CONTENT WARNING: this post talks about Weight Watchers and medications used for weight loss.
We have been dissing Weight Watchers here for a long time, from Sam’s “I hate you, Weight Watchers” post more than a decade ago to my “Oprah: Eating Bread, Making Bread,” when Oprah took shares in the company and joined the board in 2016. It’s a business. Businesses are interested in making money. Oprah is a brand unto herself. She too is interested in making money.
The culture of weight loss and diet has a well-entrenched stronghold still today, but the oppositional voices are getting louder. Many of us here at the blog are fans of the Maintenance Phase podcast and host Aubrey Gordon’s book about weight loss myths. We’ve read Kate Manne’s Unshrinking and written about it. And we’ve consistently talked about body image, body acceptance, anti-diet perspectives, the disentangling of size and health, rejection of body-shaming — too many posts to count.
And so it was with interest and not a little bit of suspicion and skepticism that I tuned in to the Oprah/Weight Watchers YouTube livestream “event” the other day to find out what new message WW could possibly be peddling under the title: “Making the Shift: A New Way to Think about Weight.” Could they finally, finally be changing to a new narrative that, despite their brand, is NOT about weight loss?
We have been here before, where they have gone from “Weight Watchers” to “WW,” and where they have gone from “dieting” to “lifestyle” and “healthy habits.” None of these shifts has been enough to change their game entirely. I mean, in the end their users are joining to lose weight. What, I wondered, are they up to now?
The event started off inspiring confidence that maybe, just maybe, real change is afoot. Oprah, in her “girlfriend” way, started with a story of total humiliation during her first appearance on the Tonight Show in 1985, when Joan Rivers asked her how she gained “the weight” and had her promising to lose 15 pounds by the end of the show (after which she gained 25). She lamented her contribution to narratives of “weight loss success” over the years, including pushing liquid diets as a path to weight loss. She claimed that one of her career lowpoints, about which she is filled with regret, is that time she rolled a cart of fat equalling in weight the fat she’d lost, onto her stage.
But in her preamble, right after she told her stories, she identified obesity as a “disease” for which no one should carry shame. We should all, she said, love our bodies. She listed of a range of possible ways to go, none of which anyone is obligated to pursue. You do not deserve to be shamed, she said, “whether you choose to start moving more, whether you want to eat differently, whether you want to change your lifestyle, whether you want to take the medications, or whether you choose to do absolutely nothing.” To be satisfied the way you are, where you are, is totally “up to you.” Then the CEO of Weight Watchers, Sima Sistani, came on and apologized for her company’s contribution to diet culture and the harm it has caused to the people who did not reach their goals on their program.
This “event” is part of a series of media moments paving the way for Weight Watchers to start promoting the use of weight loss medications. This is not brand new news, but it was news to me. And I have to say, if you had asked me to predict that “we should all love ourselves without shame” would end up at “and if that includes taking medications to lose weight so you can conform to the cultural standard for acceptable bodies,” I would not have landed there.
With the diet/points program failing to help people achieve long-term weight loss (because diets don’t work), it had two choices: become irrelevant or start encouraging people to take medication. I’ve had it pointed out to me that in some ways this strategy is more on point with the truth of what is required for successful weight loss. And that may be the case.
What I find most egregious about the live-stream is the mixed messaging. I have never thought that the only reason diet culture is harmful is that it’s almost impossible to lose weight and keep it off. That is a harm, to be sure, if people are going to continue to chase an unattainable goal and support the industry that promotes it. But I continue to think that more serious harm is that it reinforces the idea that the only acceptable body type is slimmer. Whether through diet or exercise or medication, weight loss is still the goal. Are we resigned to maintaining this picture and keeping weight loss as a life goal?
This tweak to the weight loss narrative adds a further layer of personal responsibility onto a problem of cultural harm. Keep in mind too that the drugs work by making it easier to consume fewer calories. So in the end, they reinforce the connection between calorie intake and weight gain or loss, thus offering credence to the view that dieting would work but for the dieter eating more than they “should.”
If we could rewrite that conversation with Oprah and Joan Rivers, the gist of it would still be that Oprah should lose the weight, and if that means taking the meds, then take the meds. But is it not more concerning still, is it not, that Joan Rivers felt she had the right to call out Oprah’s size (at all, nevermind so publicly on national television)? Of course Oprah has now very publicly affirmed her use of the new weight loss drugs, like Ozempic, for the purposes of weight loss. And these have now been built into Weight Watchers’ business plan.
It’s tricky of course. No one wants to say we don’t have choices, and that if people opt for a certain choice that’s their business. But there is a tension in broadening the range of pathways to body-acceptance to include new forms of weight loss. It falls into the same category of tension, I think, as anti-aging cosmetic procedures like fillers and surgeries. The more people opt for these “treatments,” the more the prizing of youthful appearance and the rejection of aging faces and bodies remains the normative standard. Does that mean these things shouldn’t be available as options? No. But does it mean that there would be less harm and more opportunity for a healthier and more realistic range, if fewer people chose them. And it would be better if we didn’t feel that normative pressure so strongly. But it’s tough to be an outlier and it takes energy, effort, and awareness to reject the messaging.
To me Oprah + Weight Watchers + weight loss meds is a scary trifecta. The mixed messages have hit a new low. Their contribution to the fear of being fat has not stopped. It has simply evolved with the times to generate a new and profitable income-stream.
Photo description: Tracy and Sam side-by-side with Tracy’s elbow on Sam’s shoulder, Sam on her bicycle, both smiling and wearing sunglasses, street and building in the background. Photo credit: Ruth Kivilahti
Lately, lots of memories have been showing up on my various feeds that take me back to 2018 when Sam and I launched our book, Fit at Mid-Life: A Feminist Fitness Journey. It was a heady time, where we felt constantly amazed at what we had done with the blog and then the book. Writing can be hard, but we marvelled at how almost-effortless it felt to write the book because we did it together.
