Category: Guest Post

fitness · Guest Post · race report · racing · triathalon

Racing at IRONMAN Lake Placid (Guest Post)

maclachlancheryls

Last weekend, I participated in IRONMAN Lake Placid. It was my third IRONMAN and I went into the weekend feeling strong but also keeping in mind the course was hard and in long races, nothing feels guaranteed.

A sea of swim caps just before the swim start with Mirror Lake looking calm.

There are a few things that reliably help me through a long swim, one of them being a reminder that when I was a kid you could not get me out of the water! I know lots of triathletes just aim to survive the swim, but I’m usually able to enjoy it at least a little. Mirror Lake was a beautiful spot to swim 3.8km, and while I wasn’t able to use the cable much and found myself butting up against lots of (at the time, annoying) swimmers despite the rolling start, I found a decent rhythm in the swim. Later, I was pleased to see I took a little bit of time off my last IRONMAN swim time. Regular swimming with Balance Point Triathlon has given me a lot more confidence in the swim over the past few years and other than some super painful chafing on my neck (there’s a first for everything!), I’ll look back on the swim with fond memories of a solid warmup (1:11:34) for the long day ahead.

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Enjoying the bike course on both laps 1 and 2 even though it got rainy.

After going on a few trips to train in the big hills/mountains, riding portions of the bike course, driving the bike course, listening to podcasts and watching videos about the terrain, asking anyone who’d offer advice, and purchasing ~a bajillion dollars in upgrades to my bike set-up, I felt as ready as I could be for the bike portion of IRONMAN Lake Placid. Turns out, the challenge was “just right” and I loved watching people fade on the second lap. I faded too, but when it started pouring rain on the climb back in, I remembered the rides I’d done in the similarly pouring rain at home and hoped any 35-39-year-old women out there (stayed safe but) slowed down.

The climbs weren’t the only thing that were absolutely breathtaking–the scenery was postcard beautiful nearly the whole time and the descent into Keene I’d worried about for weeks was scary but as I hit 76km/hr on my skinny (but tubeless and new!) tires I was so grateful for plenty of space from my fellow racers, my new bike and the experiences I’ve had on bikes in hilly places over the last decade or so. I hated watching my average speed drop on the backside of the course, but I felt so strong on the flats and was warned about that dropoff! The backdrop of towering Whiteface Mountain and knowing that Brent climbed it just for training a few days before inspired me, too, and gave me some perspective that while the course was tough, it was in the realm of appropriately challenging. I got to see my non 35-39-year-old women friends (mostly as they passed me–way to go!) and other than some blatant drafting that set the obsessive rule-follower in me off, I had the kind of bike I could only hope for. I assumed I’d gone slower (6:13:26) here than last year on the also-challenging-but-maybe-not-quite-as-challenging IRONMAN Mont Tremblant bike course, but turns out that was a PR. Amazing what hard work and about ~$10,000 in upgrades can get you!

Heading out on the first lap, smiling about the downhill start.

In any race, I worry (a lot) about (a lot of) things–from losing my goggles or drowning in the swim to getting a flat tire or crashing on the bike–so I’m always a bit relieved to get to the run and only have to worry about moving forward on my own two feet. With that in mind, I started the run happy to be off the bike. Even though I knew I might fade later, I went with the good feeling and let it rip. Between spectators hitting the nail on the head with their Goggins-inspired encouragement and fellow runners I chatted with on the first loop, it was easy to smile for the cameras! In the back of my mind, I knew I had some work ahead of me and if I’m being honest, the hill I was dreading on the way back into town was every bit as hard as I thought it would be–yowzer! 

Looking a little bit more tired but giving the thumbs up heading uphill on lap 2.

On lap 2, I felt the twinge of cramps. I held them off by slowing, doing the math on how slow I could go and still hit my (arbitrary, ambitious, motivating) goal of averaging <6:00/km. At one point, I rubbed some of my base salts on a nasty wetsuit burn on my neck to distract myself from the cramps. Boy, did that remind me that things could get worse! The scenery, especially the ski jumps in the distance, and the shared suffering with other racers got me through the long out and back, as did thinking on purpose about friends and family–and drinking coke at every aid station. Seeing my friends, telling strangers they looked good, and reminding myself out loud that “it’s not supposed to be easy!” helped, too. My coach Ang’s reminder that “suffering is a privilege” helped me push myself instead of shying away from the challenge. I spent a while imagining my dog Walter pulling me by his leash before tackling that darn hill one more time! Luckily, the love of my life and total hunk Brent was stationed mid-ascent with one of my favourite songs in the world playing for me. Better yet, he let me know that I was fairly firmly setting myself up to finish 10th in my AG–good enough (in the Women for Tri era, but more to explore and unpack there!) for a Kona qualifier. From there, I felt lighter in my step and had to remind myself to enjoy the last mile, taking some time to let it all soak in. 

In the finisher chute.

As a girl who cited period cramps and walked off the track the day we ran the mile in 9th grade gym class, I always draw strength from looking back on my journey to the point where I’ll pay lots of money to run lots of miles. As cheesy as it sounds, as I ran to the finish line, I thought on purpose about how proud of that young girl I am for the progress she’s made and the woman I’ve become. I somehow held it together at the finish line (4:09:13 marathon, which works out to 5:56/km) and almost argued with Brent (sorry, honey–you’re the best!) when he told me my finishing time and that I’d PR’d across the board and overall (11:42:19). 

Tired but happy to finish, get a medal and sit down!

I am so grateful for the way that my person (Brent), my coach, my tri club, my friends, coworkers and family have supported and encouraged me and for the opportunity to choose to suffer in this sport. As I’ve said before, I love to see what I can get out of myself and racing helps me do that. Can’t wait to do it again (after some recovery and some heat-training) in just under 12 weeks. 

If IMLP is on your maybe list, move it to your must-do and get training–it’s no joke! 

Cheryl MacLachlan is an endurance athlete, teacher and coach living in London, ON. She is always looking for another bike and loves her dog Walter, books and writing.

fitness · Guest Post

Summer Forever (Guest Post by Elena Napolitano)

fieldpoppy1 Comment

Ever since I can remember I have always felt most “myself” in water.  As a kid growing up on the North Shore of Long Island, it was literally the shaping force of my summers, the pattern of the day set by the tide schedule stuck to the fridge door.  Swimming in the Sound or exploring sandbars and rocky beaches, I learned to test my physical boundaries and independence. The prospects of where I could go and what I could do, like the summers themselves, were expansive and exciting. 

Kid Elena in the best bathing suit

This year is the first since those childhood summers that I find myself with long and unstructured time off. Beginning in May, I took a medical leave from my job to address symptoms I attributed to pandemic related anxiety and general burnout. Then one night in early June I had a “panic attack” that lasted nearly three hours. When my partner took me to the emergency room I clocked in with a heart rate of 225.

A few shots of adenosine, some diagnostics, and the care of numerous excellent health care providers (pay nurses more!) later, I was diagnosed with AVNRT, a form of tachycardia in which there are extra electrical signals that sustain an elevated heart rate. I opted for a catheter ablation, a procedure in which parts of heart tissue are burned to create scarring that dampens the rogue signals.

The weeks between my hospital discharge and my surgery were the most sedentary of my life. Even trips to the supermarket required rests between aisles while holding onto the cart for stability. I joked with my friends that I felt like a convalescing Victorian lady, vapours and all. However, I was terrified that my capacity to do anything physically taxing was irrevocably compromised. As an adult, I’ve never felt completely at home with my body but I have learned to respect its capabilities, strength and sturdiness and I have been fortunate not to have experienced any major illness or injuries. Up until this point I thought my body and I had a mutual understanding, but now it felt unreliable, weak, a stranger to me.

It wasn’t until my surgery that I began to recognize that, in order to heal that relationship, I had to be my own guide to finding and honouring my new normal. This realisation came in part from processing the trauma of the procedure itself (not to get into gory details but sedation is contraindicated so I was wide awake for the whole painful affair) but also from the example of support and care given to me by my community of friends and family, for which I am profoundly grateful.

I’m now three weeks post-op and it will take up to three months for my heart to fully heal. Recovery has not always been a linear path. On the days where my heart rate is wonky or the fatigue sets in early, I still resist the urge to feel betrayed and furious that my body won’t comply with my demands. On days like this, the knowledge that the false dichotomy between the body and mind is a construct of capitalism and a tool of the patriarchy somehow just doesn’t cut it. I crave comfort, fun and a place of safety.

8 year old Elena

 

I think I’ve found that place back in the water. My “free” summer has opened up time to swim to my heart’s content (pun intended). Somewhere along the way I tapped into some serious childhood nostalgia as part of my healing journey and am now fully embracing what I call “kid summer.” What this looks like can vary – sometimes it is rising late on a Wednesday morning and heading straight to my condo’s pool in Toronto. Other times it is days spent on the couch with books and snacks, nights spent staying up late to watch movies.

I recently impulse bought a nightshirt with a sparkly watermelon and the phrase “Summer Forever” that would have thrilled eight-year old me. Underlying all of these activities is a gentle nurturing of curiousity and potential, and remembering that feeling “myself” is not a static state but a practice of self compassion.

My excellent nightshirt

Today I’m at my grown-up version of the beach: my in-laws’ cottage off Georgian Bay. I grab my towel and head down to the water to visit the little group of painted turtles that have taken up residence in the channel. They are watchful and cautious at first, hiding underwater among the weeds at the first signs of my approach. After a few minutes they reappear one by one, poking their red striped heads out of the water or crawling up to a floating plank to bask in the sun. I lay my towel out on the stones at the water’s edge and join them in the basking. In time they will be ready to dive back in, and so will I.

 

Elena Napolitano is a white, queer femme who lives in Toronto with her partner and her intrepid little elder dog, Maddy. Part time Art Historian, full time nerd, she also loves swimming, hiking and painting cheeky little birds.

Book Reviews · fitness · Guest Post

Summer reading from Tucson, Arizona

Sam B

by Mary Reynolds

The Tour de France Femme starts Sunday, July 23; read the book by Kathryn Bertine, who fought to bring the race back for women. Inspiring athletes and adventurers, past and present, make up my summer reading list. And one musician biography, for those who remember the ’80s.


Athlete and activist Kathryn Bertine wrote Stand: A Memoir on Activism, and she lives in Tucson! Although this book is a couple of years old, Bertine’s message is critical for anyone trying to change patriarchal systems, also known as “we’ve always done it this way.” Bertine gathered a small team of professional female athletes to challenge the Tour de France organizers, gathered hundreds of thousands of signatures on a global petition, and worked behind the scenes to get to the 8-day stage race we will cheer for next week. There’s still work to be done to make it 21 days to equal the men’s race.


Kathrine Switzer is Marathon Woman, and she shares her story of becoming the first woman to run the Boston Marathon and the fight to include women in the race. A classic book combining feminist activism with the hard work of marathon training.I love hiking and biking in northern Arizona and Ladies of the Canyon, by Lesley Poling-Kempes, shows what it was like to hike and ride horses through this region in the mid-19th century. The author took a deep dive into the archives and uncovered stories of women who traveled into canyons and across Monument Valley. Women with long skirts and cinched waists ride cowboy style through the desert heat, creating lives for themselves in the wild west.


The Forgotten Botanist: Sara Plummer Lemmon’s Life of Science and Art,  by Wynne Browne, tells another adventure story from the 1800s.  Sara taught herself botany and explored the southwest with her husband. She scaled cliffs and crossed deserts to collect and name new plant species in Arizona, California, Oregon, and Mexico. She was also an activist in women’s suffrage and forest conservation. The famous cycling climb in Tucson is up to the top of Mount Lemmon, named after Sara who was the first white woman to reach the peak (hiking, not cycling).

In Why Sinéad O’Connor Matters, Allyson McCabe, looks at the life, music, and complex public image of the artist. After a childhood of family abuse, a teacher/nun introduced O’Connor to the guitar. She took control of her own music before she was 20 years old, and famously criticized the Catholic church for hiding child abuse (denied at the time, and later proved to be true). Her song writing and voice won awards, but popular opinion often turned against her. McCabe argues O’Connor was held to a different standard than the male musicians of her time. Read while listening to “The Emperor’s New Clothes.”

Photo of books titled: Stand, Marathon Woman, The Forgotten Botanist, Ladies of the Canyon, Why Sinead O’Connor Matters

Mary Reynolds writes and bikes in Tucson, AZ, and is writing a book “The Quake That Drained the Desert.”

diversity · fitness · Guest Post · inclusiveness

An Individual ND Approach to Fitness (Guest Post)

elan.paulson

By Becky Sinnott

Becky Sinnott

I’m a late-diagnosed ADHD person (at 40!), with autistic traits, and a mom of 7-year-old neurodivergent (ND) twins, who are also ND.

As a youth, I struggled to be part of many fitness activities through school and with my peers, as I was excluded and bullied out of most team sports. As with most teachers, my physical education (P.E.) teachers treated me like I was intentionally weird. It was terrible for my mental health.

I was still fit and active; it just looked different from a “standard fitness routine.” I spent a lot of time walking, dancing, cycling, or being a “tourist in my own town.” I did a lot of gardening. Activity was part of life. 

As an adult, I’ve reflected on how many exercise routines are based on behaviorism:  Rewards, punishments, deprivation, gruelling hours, and misery. So I’ve always felt kind of glad that I wasn’t included in sports whose players trained that way. Behaviorism is the theory on which “conversion therapy” and Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) are based; these reward/punishment systems have been and continue to be used to abuse and manipulate people (but that’s a topic for another day.)

In contrast, the ND community is developing healthy, life-integrative tools, resources, and groups to overcome inertia (task paralysis), avoid fatigue, promote “stacking or scaffolding,” and curate activities around what ND folks actually like to do and are already doing.

Non-exercise Activity Thermogenisis [NEAT] is the increase in overall activity in your daily life rather than focusing on workouts a few times a week, which can be unattainable for many ND people due to various reasons including financial, safety, lack of supports, and infrastructure inaccesibility. 

Quite often the inaccessibility impacts the people that need it most, where taking a NEAT approach means it’s accessible to everyone. For example, according to NEAT, dancing (especially in your kitchen) can be as good as jogging when it comes to fitness, and because it’s fun you’re more apt to keep doing it! For further description of NEAT, here’s a High Brow description.

Here are some NEAT examples that help me to integrate fitness into my life:

  • Calling a friend (body doubling) and going for a walk is enjoyable, and we can be in two separate cities while doing it.
  • Gardening, which is great exercise and good for my mental health.
  • Volunteering, at a food bank or a library. Lots of heavy lifting and I’m doing some good for the world.
  • Becoming familiar with self-regulation tools and my own needs/accommodations list (I’m building a printable package right now) and putting them into place to structure more activity, which assists me regardless of my physical or mental health for the day.
  • Knowing when I need to rest.

It can be challenging for neurotypical people to make exercise more accessible for ND folks. I have a few ideas to consider:

  •  Team sports can be tough for anyone, but it’s especially the case for some ND people with sensory challenges. What supports could be applied in those situations? 
  • Many ND people have other hidden disabilities such as motor skill/coordination disorders like dyspraxia, or connective tissue disorders such as Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. What tools would assist in participation?
  • ND people may face additional challenges, such as Language Processing Disorder, that may not make them seem like good team players. How can you provide more time for folks to process in certain environments?

There are many benefits to having Neurodiversity in sport and fitness activities. ND athletes

  •  are good problem solvers
  • work well under pressure (ADHD)
  • are geat at seeing patterns and detecting flaws in opposing teams
  • help team members to develop new social skills, novel approaches to challenges, and the pride of being in a well rounded group

Many ND people (and people with other disabilities) have spent most of their lives building or finding workarounds and bending “rules” in order to have reasonably functional lives. Their non-linear experiences and creativity has helped the neurotypical and able world to find solutions to various challenges in various places in society.

When a person with a disability requests an accommodation or more accessibility, they need it in order to function, and everyone else benefits, so there’s no good reason not to work with those requests. I’ve noticed as I take my littles through the process of finding sports and other activities, being straightforward with their challenges has opened more doors than it’s closed.

Takeaways:

  1. The ND community is actively building more manageable and positive approaches to fitness and health.
  2. NEAT is a great starting point in developing life structures help becoming more active for everyone.
  3. One particular routine isn’t necessary: do what you like and switch up often because variety is the spice of life.
  4. And when you just can’t, that’s okay: listen to your body and mind and give yourself permission to rest. Rest is a basic need. Self-compassion and un-shaming for when you fall off the wagon will help you get back on sooner.
  5. Accommodations and accessibility are necessary to some but beneficial to everyone.
  6. Inclusion in physical activity offers unexpected benefits to everyone. 
fitness · Guest Post

To Sample or Specialize? Why Does it Matter Long Term? (Guest Post)

Sam B

By Sarah Teetzel

What do we really know about the long-term benefits of sport sampling?


The risks and negative outcomes of early sport specialization are now well understood. From research on sport attrition and when and why people (particularly teenage girls) drop out of sport, researchers have identified several factors that contribute to negative sport and physical activity experiences.


Sport specialization involves high-intensity training in one sport to the exclusion of all other sports. While it was long believe to be a path to high performance success and advanced skill acquisition, the research literature and Canada’s Long-Term Development in Sport and Physical Activity framework agree that specialization prior to late adolescence can do far more harm than good.


Plenty is known about the risks of early sport specialization, particularly the connections between intensive training and negative outcomes with respect to overuse injury risk. Ample research also suggests that early specialization is linked to a greater risk of burnout, shortened peak performance, and decreased motivation to engage in activity. Yet the posited alternative to specialization, most often a multisport experience, where youth “sample” a variety of activities and in doing so gain myriad sport skills, is far less studied.


Also known as diversification, sport sampling refers to athletes who take part in more than one organized sport in a year as well as informal and enjoyable physical activities. Sport sampling is assumed to be beneficial and protective, but why?



A lack of diversified activity may not allow young children to develop the appropriate neuromuscular and motor skills that are effective for participation in lifelong sport and physical activity. Some research supports the idea that children aged 6 to 12 who participate in a wide array of sports are more likely to be involved in sport as adults, suggesting that sampling has a protective effect against burnout and attrition from sport. Athletes who avoid specializing are also believed to be more physically literate and comfortable executing a wider variety of motor skills that are transferable across sports. The idea that sport sampling can be an effective pathway to both high-performance sport success and continuing sport participation into and throughout adulthood is increasingly prevalent. Yet we don’t actually know if or why sampling or diversification in youth correlate with physically activity levels and physical literacy in adults.

Does having a multisport experience prior to the first identified dropout point in sport (i.e., approximately age 12) correlate with being a physically active and/or physically literate young adult, and adult?

We are working with Sport for Life to see if research data supports this belief and assumption.


To do so, a survey addressing what you recall participating in prior to age 12 and what you enjoy today has been created, with the option of signing up for a follow-up interview with a member of the research team. Canadians aged 18-60 are invited to participate. (A separate study looking at similar themes in older adults is planned for the future.)

Image description: A poster advertising the study with a QR code to access the informed consent form for the survey at https://uwinnipeg.qualtrics.com/jfe/form/SV_1LdNbqu5BFL8Ptk. The background images feature people engaging in jogging, yoga, skiing and stand up paddleboarding.

More information about the study and access to the informed consent form to participate is available here or by scanning the QR code above. The survey can be completed in English or French.

The Principal Investigator of the study is Dr. Melanie Gregg at the University of Winnipeg, and the study has been funded by a SSHRC Partnership Development grant. The University of Winnipeg’s research ethics board has approved this study.


Sarah Teetzel is a professor in the Faculty of Kinesiology and Recreation Management at the University of Manitoba and a member of the research team working with colleagues at Sport for Life Canada on the Diversification for an Active Life study. She is a former U Sports swimmer who now spends her leisure time playing driveway hockey, hiking, and every so often remembering why she used to love to swim by visiting her local pool.

fitness · Guest Post · swimming

My fitness journal, Part 1: Swimming

savita1

I want to focus on some swimming goals. My past performances are going to help me shape my swimming goals for 2023. 

I track my workouts and activities on an online fitness app. I’ve been doing this for a while, and it’s interesting to see the trends, especially in my swimming activities from year to year. Here are the data for total number of swims from 2012-2016:

  • 2012: 79
  • 2013: 80
  • 2014: 75
  • 2015: 78
  • 2016: 85 (wow!)

From 2012-2016, it was a pretty steady routine, averaging 80 swims per year. I included practices and competitions. Then it dramatically dropped from 2017-2019. I’m trying to remember why. Perhaps I was taking a break; I had been swimming with our Masters team, the London Silver Dolphins, since 2002 and started to ramp up my swimming once I started to go to meets. Maybe I wanted to try other fitness activities. And then it was March 2020, and our swimming seasons got disrupted until September 2022.

So what about my swimming goals for 2023? 

I want to get back to what I did from 2012-16. I was averaging 80 swims per year (rounding up). What about the distance? The average mileage was 140.8 km/year. That’s 1760 m per swim.

Ok, so now I have my goal for 2023: 80 swims, 141 km.

So far? 19 swims, 37.8 km: 1989 m per swim. Awesome! 

BUT: are numbers all that matter?? 

Of course not. They’re an easy benchmark, and provide a concrete goal. And, as a scientist by training, it’s easy for me to compile and analysis numerical data. But there’s other types of data that can be collected and analysed. Emotional data. Because that’s the primary driver of going to the pool. 

The smell of chlorine is familiar and comforting. It tells me that I’m in a good place and that I’m about to get into the pool. There are times where my motivation wanes; it’s late at night and maybe I’m really NOT in the mood. But lately, that has not been an issue, likely because this is the first full season since the beginning of the pandemic. On the pool deck, I do some warm-up exercises and look at the workout to plan my gear (pull buoys, fins, etc). 

That initial dive is exhilarating. I go into autopilot as I find my pace, and focus on my technique. I love an endurance workout because it allows for getting into a rhythm. The sound of my deep breathing, the rush of the water. I love a speed workout because of the feel of slicing through the water. My body feels powerful and coordinated and I love the feel of the water wash over me. I’m always thinking about technique: the alignment of my body; the reach, catch and pull of my arms and upper body; rotation around the long axis; the 3-beat kick of my legs. 

After getting out of the pool and changing back into my clothes, I feel pleasantly relaxed. My skin smells like chlorine. I’m thirsty (even though I’ve been drinking water throughout the workout)! I swim late at night, so after I get home, I have a shower and a snack and then relax by playing word games before going to bed. And I SLEEP. 

The physical feelings extend into the next day. I feel light and loose and my breathing is relaxed. My brain feels activated. And I’m still thirsty (can’t drink too much at night, because I’ll need to get up to pee)!

How does your favourite exercise make YOU feel? Do you keep a journal? It’s a new experience for me, so any advice is welcome!

A beautiful blue outdoor swimming pool on a sunny day
disability · fitness · Guest Post

Part 2: The mystique of choice feminism  (Guest post)

Sam B
Image description: Book cover, Ivanka Trump: Women Who Work: Rewriting the Rules for Success

In my last post, I argued that beauty culture, which is supported by beautyism (a preference for “beautiful bodies”), is an artefact of ableism eugenics. In this post, I will explain why I think that choice feminism supports this ableist system. Choice feminism treats women’s choices as inherently justified and politically acceptable. If women choose to cosmetically alter their appearance, this is nobody’s business but their own. There are two main problems with this view.

First, choice feminism ignores the intersectionality inherent in the category “women.” It is patently false that women’s choices cannot be criticized as racist, heteronormative, ableist, and oppressive in other ways. Nondisabled white women, in particular, are complicit in the prevailing system of white-supremacist eugenics, because their choices routinely contribute to this system of oppression. Choice feminism shields privileged women from accountability for their ableist preferences and values. It says that women should be allowed to fear and scorn disabled (black, fat) bodies with impunity from judgment. In other words, choice feminism denies the force of the critique from Black, queer, and disabled feminists (as outlined in my last post), that the beauty industry promotes a white, thin, nondisabled appearance, and people who use cosmetic products to achieve this look are participating in a system of able-bodied privilege.

Second, choice feminism treats beautyism as a purely personal and private choice as opposed to a response to a system of oppression that compels obedience and submission. Choice feminism, that is, gets things backwards. Beauty culture isn’t the outcome of many private consumer choices, but rather a political economy that sells able-bodiedness as the onlyreasonable choice. As Robert McRuer puts it, able-bodiedness is “compulsory” in the sense that it is a condition of being seen as normal, but “compulsion is here produced and covered over with the appearance of choice…, mystifying a system in which there actually is no choice.” Choice feminism papers over the system of compulsory able-bodiedness that demands physical conformity from everyone. When women participate in this system, they are contributing to the politics of eugenics. Their choices are not independent of this system, but integral parts of it.

Having said this, it’s important to recognize that we can and should resist beauty culture. But in order to do this, we need to do two things. First, we have to admit that beauty culture is a system of oppression that stigmatizes and eliminates socially disvalued traits, which are labeled as disabilities. Second, we have to recognize that ableism, racism, fatphobia, and other prejudices intersect with each other and contribute to a eugenics culture. In this culture, being “beautiful” simply means being able-bodied, and being able-bodied overlaps with being white and gender-conforming. Having these traits confers social capital and status. Beautyism, then, is a pillar of ableist eugenics in that it selects and favors these traits. It is not a “mere preference” that consumers happen to have. It is a component part of a system of ableist eugenics that punishes and eliminates disability. Choice feminism mystifies this system by denying that women’s choices have political import. It prevents us from criticizing women’s ableist choices.

Bio:

Mich Ciurria is a queer, disabled philosopher who teaches at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Her/their research interests include moral psychology, Marxist feminism, and critical disability theory. She/they is the author of An Intersectional Feminist Theory of Moral Responsibility (Routledge) and a regular contributor to the blog BIOPOLITICAL PHILOSOPHY.  

beauty · disability · fitness · Guest Post

Part 1: Beautyism as ableist eugenics (Guest post)

Sam B1 Comment

By Mich Ciurria

I recently came across this article on Vice.com asking filmmakers to “stop making hot actors play normal people.” I think that this is a real problem but not for the reasons most people assume. Instead, I think that mainstream beauty culture – which encompasses Hollywood cinema – is structured by beautyism, by which I mean a prejudice in favor of “beautiful” bodies and against “ugly” bodies. And beautyism overlaps with racism, heteronormativity, and, above all, ableism.

More specifically, beautyism is part of a eugenics culture that favors white, gender-conforming, nondisabled bodies, the kinds of bodies preferred by eugenicists throughout history. Indeed, disability is partly defined as white and gender-conforming.

Yet few people seem to notice this, even in feminist spaces where one would expect to find such critiques. I believe that this is largely because of the prevalence of “choice feminism,” an ideology that treats women’s choices as “[inherently] justified and always politically acceptable.” In other words, choice feminism holds that we should not critique women’s choices, no matter how problematic they may be.

Here, I want to debunk choice feminism and argue that beautyism promotes a eugenics society. I will do this in two parts. In the first part, I will explain why I think that beautyism is a component part of eugenics. This argument is supported by critical disability feminism. In the second part, I will unpack why choice feminism not only ignores these critiques, but actively silences them by presenting women’s choices as private matters that are beyond reproach.    

Beautyism as ableist eugenics

First, let me explain why I think that beautyism is a form of ableism. Beautyism is exemplified in Hollywood’s preference for “beautiful” actors, as well as ordinary people’s attempts to live up to Hollywood’s standard of beauty. Beautism, as such, is an institutionalized preference for “beautiful bodies.” This preference picks out and favors certain traits over others. Which traits?

Above all, beautyism selects for able-bodiedness. It favors bodies that are “normal” and “healthy,” bodies with two arms, two legs, a symmetrical face, an athletic build, and other marker of able-bodiedness. In contrast, disabled bodies are seen as abnormal, freakish, and (hence) ugly.

Asymmetrical bodies, paralyzed bodies, amputated bodies – in general, disabled bodies – are “ugly” because they are not “normal” or “healthy,” much less ideal. But normalcy and health are social constructs, not natural or “prediscursive” states of affairs (to use Foucault’s term). A “normal” body is thought of as a nondisabled body only because of contingent historical and political circumstances that conflate “normal” and “able.”

These associations can and should be resisted. But to change them, we need to understand their origins in industrial capitalism, and their ongoing role in hierarchies of power and domination.

Disability historians have shown how disability came to be seen as ugly, freakish, and profane in the wake of the industrial revolution. Rosemarie Garland-Thomson traces the social construction of disability as deviancy by contrasting freak shows against beauty pageants circa 1860-1920.

Freak shows displayed disabled bodies under the guise of “armless wonders,” “Siamese twins,” “fat men,” “bearded women,” “spotted boys” (with vitiligo), and so on. In contrast, beauty pageants showcased white, thin, gender-conforming women. These two spectacles helped to solidify the notion of disability as ugly and freakish on the one hand, and able-bodiedness as beautiful and normal on the other hand. These opposing contexts also illuminate the associations between disability, blackness, queerness, and gender-variance, as opposed to able-bodiedness, whiteness, straightness, and gender-conformity.

Historically, disvalued traits of all kinds were treated as disabling conditions, and were in fact disabling in the sense that having these traits would often result in socioeconomic exclusions that could both cause disablement (due to injury and neglect) and position one as disabled (marginalized, poor).  

Sarah F. Rose corroborates this analysis by tracing the source of disability circa 1840-1930 to the exclusion of non-standard bodies from the economy in the wake of the industrial revolution. Newly mechanized industries demanded bodies that could keep pace with the new machinery. Hence, non-interchangeable bodies were, for the first time, seen and treated as disabled (i.e., disposable). At this time, Black, feminine, and gender-nonconforming bodies were disproportionally disabled because they were relegated to the most disabling industries (e.g., mining, handling toxic chemicals), which solidified associations between Blackness, femininity, and disablement.

These groups were then forced onto welfare and private aid, which didn’t cover cost the cost of living. Meanwhile, white union workers were protected from disabling jobs by labor laws and collective bargaining, which ensured better working conditions, and entrenched the relation between able-bodiedness and white masculinity. In this way, disability was raced and gendered as a result of capitalist labor relations and social policies.

Sabrina Springs adds a further layer of analysis to this critique by explaining how diet culture, and beauty culture in general, emerged in the 18th and 19th centuries in response to white people’s fear of the Black body. She describes how Blackness was constructed in opposition to the ideal of Whiteness, as uncivilized, fat, unhealthy, and ugly. 19th-Century scholars wrote of “Black savages” as “stout,” “corpulent” and “excessively fleshy.” They particularly targeted Black women as exemplars of fatness, laziness, and poor hygiene – figures to be adjured by “civilized white ladies.” This racial ideology mobilized white women to invest in diet and beauty products in an effort to avoid traits associated with Blackness, particularly fatness and disability. This ideology also reinforced the notion of disability as a feature of fat, Black bodies.

These three analyses converge in conceptualizing ugliness as a social construct with roots in eugenics, a system of oppression that conflates Blackness, queerness, and disability, and punishes disability as such. While these critiques are historical in nature, they are just as relevant today as they were 200 years ago. We still live in a compulsory beauty regime that seeks to eliminate disability in all its forms. Today, people invest more than ever in diet and beauty routines that promise thinness, pale skin, a youthful appearance, and other markers of able-bodiedness. The beauty industry is a multi-billion-dollar racket that continues to capitalize on our fear of the disabled-Black-fat-ugly body, leading to an ever-shrinking range of acceptable bodies.

As Jia Tolentino puts it, social media is fueling the “emergence… of a single, cyborgian face,” one that is young, thin, and “distinctly white but ambiguously ethnic.” The more we invest in the beauty industry, the faster we approach a Gattaca-type society in which biological diversity is reviled and reduced. Note that in Gattaca, everyone is miserable – not only the genetically-unmodified “invalids,” but also the gene-edited “valids,” who feel that they can never live up to their genetic destinies or meet each other’s expectations. How much longer until scientists start using gene-editing technologies to create “beautiful” designer babies? This is the “brave new world” that Aldous Huxley warned us about, and it is already well underway with the current use of fillers, injections, surgeries, and other technologies used to erase disability. Gene-editing tools will allow parents to ensure their children’s genetic sameness at birth. 

Gattaca, movie cover

We need to intervene now if we want to prevent a slippery slope into an even more dystopian future. Scientific advances are already allowing people to use more invasive techniques to eliminate markers of disability and achieve a more homogeneous (boring and elitist) society. If we want to avoid Huxley’s prediction, we need to recognize beautyism as a produce of racial-patriarchal-capitalist eugenics, a system that abjures disability and demands bodily conformity.

Bio:

Mich Ciurria is a queer, disabled philosopher who teaches at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. Her/their research interests include moral psychology, Marxist feminism, and critical disability theory. She/they is the author of An Intersectional Feminist Theory of Moral Responsibility (Routledge) and a regular contributor to the blog BIOPOLITICAL PHILOSOPHY.  

fitness · Guest Post · injury · mindfulness · racing · triathalon

Pause and Ponder (guest post)

catherine w

This is a reblog of a newsletter post from the Rockvale Writers’ Colony by Sandy Coomer, its founder and director. Note: I’ll be there for a two-week writing residency in mid-October! She has things to say about what happened when she had to take a pause from life as usual. I’ll let her take it from here. -catherine

Anyone who knows me well knows I’m very active and busy. That’s my natural tendency. When I rest, I’m often thinking of and planning for the next burst of energy required for the next new project or idea. It’s hard for me to slow down. In fact, I rarely stop for long . . . unless I’m forced to. Funny how that works. When it’s necessary to pause, when I’m required to stop my busy enterprises, I’m pleasantly surprised at how refreshing it is to simply “Be.”

I had a triathlon race in Wisconsin this past weekend. I had a good swim and was at mile 15 of the bike when a pedestrian/spectator ran onto the bike course and we collided. The collision made me crash head-first into a parked pickup truck. The moments that followed were interesting. I was unable to say where I was or what my name was. I didn’t feel panic – just a sort of confused wonder at what I was doing on the road. I knew I was in a race, but I had no idea where. When someone told me I was in Wisconsin, I remember thinking, “How in the world did I get to Wisconsin?” Within a few more minutes, I remembered everything, and then I was whisked away to the emergency room.

I’m not badly hurt, but I will need a few weeks to heal from my injuries. It’s a forced pause, a slow-down to allow my body to heal and my concussion-addled brain to steady. Living in the still air of patience and acceptance is a lesson in a different sort of fortitude than the one I’m used to. It wasn’t in my plans to get hurt, but the hurt came anyway, and it’s my responsibility now to see what I can learn from it. Otherwise, the experience is wasted.

Here’s what I’m discovering from my forced “Pause.”

  1. People matter more than anything else. So many people have taken the time to check on me and see if I need anything. Am I attentive to others’ needs when I’m in “Busy” mode? Can I take a moment every day to tune into another person’s heart and say “I see you, you matter?” 
  2. Being still teaches a certain kind of balance which can lead to delight. I sat on my back porch yesterday and watched the afternoon fade into dusk. Two chipmunks were chasing each other from the porch to the grass and into the burrow under the shed. I felt like I was a crucial part of this scene. I belonged in an intricate way to the wonders of nature. I didn’t move or direct anything. I simply was there.
  3. Letting go of perfectionism is the key to being satisfied. I was sorely disappointed I didn’t finish the race. I kept replaying the details of the wreck in my head over and over. What did I do wrong? What should I have done differently? Sometimes, stuff happens that we can’t control. Sometimes, we simply have to accept the drama of the day and move on with gratitude.
  4. Beauty exists in every situation if you stay open to it. As I was being driven from the ER back to my hotel, I noticed the light glinting off the water of the lake, little cups of sparkle and glee. I thought, “how beautiful.” Back at home, I settled into my own comfortable bed with its floral comforter and sage green pillows and I thought, “how lovely.” Do I even notice this when I’m focused on all I need to get done?

When I think about my writing, I realize that if I get too focused on the achievement aspect and forget the beauty of each moment, I can miss the whole point of writing entirely. I write because I have something valuable to say. My writing comes from my soul, not my ambition. Remembering that is what will keep me at the page. 

A “Pause,” forced or chosen, can be a time of pondering and eventually, great insight. If we believe every situation has a purpose and a lesson, we’re more apt to let experiences teach us and take the lessons to heart. Yes, we learn a lot from work, but we learn equally from not working, from pausing our “Go” button, and simply allowing the universe to share its infinite wisdom. I would not have chosen to wreck in the race, but I AM choosing to ponder the Pause, the Moment, the Wonder of Being Here Right Now. 

It’s something I’m glad I didn’t miss.

-sandy

Late summer magic (Guest post)
fitness · Guest Post · season transitions

Late summer magic (Guest post)

Sam B

by Judy Steers

It’s THAT time of day. You know the one. Where the sun is slicing through the trees at a sharp angle. It’s warm while it’s on you and losing that hot edge like it had back in July. Wrapped in a damp towel, your hair wild and wind-blown, you’re gingerly walking barefoot on the soft moss and hard stones back to shelter – whether that’s the tent, the camper, or the cottage.

You’re a bit wet still from an afternoon of playing in the waves and paddling down the wind and lying in the sun. You’ve body surfed and got rolled over and come up laughing. You’ve had a cold beer or soda or juicy apple or a bag of salty chips on the dock and now, it’s time to shift to the Later Things.


But right now? Now is that beautiful in-between time where you look for the mossy patch stepping stones to take your feet back to warm clothes and lunch dishes still on the table (because you were just so keen to get out on the afternoon adventure).

You wrap up in flannel and someone lights the barbeque or the fire. The water and the wind still roar and the towels dance in the line. You’re warm and happy and surrounded by people you love. Good food awaits. The promise of campfire, s’mores and the wind in the trees to lull you to sleep.


You’re 10 years old at Girl Guide camp, you’re 20-something on a short weekend with friends, you’re 40-something wrapping shivering children in big fluffy towels, you’re staring down 60 and feel like all of them.


5:00 pm on a late summer afternoon is pure magic. It’s the transition between splashing, shivering fun and warm well-fed contentment. The tentative barefoot steps on the moss tell you you’ve been here before, and your heart is grateful you get to do it again.

Sun through the trees
Feet in the sand

Judy is a school chaplain in her work life and a kayaker and board game geek in her play life. She lives in Guelph and regularly waves as Sam bikes past her house on her cool Brompton. She is now past 60 and still loves playing in the waves and campfire.