Category: Guest Post

clothing · fitness · gender policing · Guest Post

Sweater Vest (Guest Post)

Sam B1 Comment

by Brett

Gender dysphoria has plagued many moments of my life. In fact, some of my earliest memories remain stark in my mind as moments of feeling lost in my body. Being at the golf store with my dad, and having a ravenous obsession with the sweater vests. There was something about the sharp argyle patterns, and crisp cuff lines. I couldn’t tell you how my parents responded to my want for the purple and grey one I got my grubby little hands on…but I do know it never made it home with me. I couldn’t have been much older than 6 or 7, but if I close my eyes and imagine the smell of fresh leather and the sound of people testing out clubs in the range area, I am brought back to that store. I can feel the 80% cotton and 20% cashmere in my fists, imagining how it would show off my arms without hugging my petite frame.

However disappointing my sweater vest memory is, it was one of the first moments of clarity I had about my identity. Maybe that vest didn’t hang in my closet, but it hung in my mind as a siren for what was yet to come.

I have been an athlete my entire life. Growing up I was a multi-sport athlete through every season. Winter was hockey and volleyball, Spring included track and field and rowing. Summer featured more track and field, occasionally soccer, and ball hockey. Finally, Fall brought about cross country, and basketball. On top of it all, fitness is a passion that has always ignited my deepest sense of self.

I began my own training around age 9. While the drive has remained the same, the goal has weathered many gender-fluid storms. As a child, I loved the attention of having ‘unbelievable’ strength…especially when it showed the ‘boys’ who was boss! What was so wonderful about this time was that societal pressures, and peer-level interrogations, hadn’t forced me to evaluate my beauty, yet. Instead, all that mattered was doing the most pushups, planking longer, and running the fastest. It was a simple time.

However, puberty wreaked havoc on my gender-fluid being. Suddenly, I was painfully aware that my breasts had been replaced by strong pectoral muscles. I remember foolishly thinking that my back side would have to make up for that, to maintain any kind of desirability. During these years, I tortured my mind into conforming to female beauty standards. I was worried about being too ‘bulky’, not having breasts, and not having curves. I would stand in the mirror, flaunting skin-tight dresses, skinny jeans, and leggings knowing that the aesthetic appearance of my body was ‘to standard’. However, witnessing my body in feminine clothing made me want to crawl out of my skin. Suddenly, the goal was no longer obvious. This was the fantastic beginning of a complex, heartbreaking, and liberating fitness journey.

The transition to ‘men’s’ clothing came gradually. It started with looser fitting jackets; then shirts. Finally, the button-downs began to appear, as well as straight-cut pants. My muscular arms and broad chest started to look ‘at home’. The goal changed, quickly. I began to observe my male-identifying, athletic peers. The way their shoulders filled out the hem of a fitted t-shirt. The infamous ‘triangle’ shape in which your shoulders taper to a narrow waist. What I used to think was attractive for men became the desire for my own form. It wasn’t attraction…it was envy.

My workouts have become fixated on acquiring strength, and I’ve learned to appreciate the painful calluses that stubbornly rest on my inner palms and fingers. While the skin-tight dresses rarely surface anymore, I can tell you that they don’t fit the way they used to. But I’ll be damned if I don’t admit to feeling like a warrior in them. Miraculously, my gender-fluid soul has found appreciation in this strength as it embodies each of my identities in a different way (but more on this, later!).

I am on my way. My ‘men’s’ cut t-shirts are becoming less baggy. My ‘men’s’ cut jeans are pinching too much when I sit down. And I’m proud to tell you all that there is a navy-blue sweater vest hanging in my closet.

Bio: Hi! I’m Bret and I hail from Guelph, ON, where I completed my undergraduate degree in Philosophy. I am currently working towards an MA in Philosophy at Western University, and enjoy engaging in feminist theory, ethics, as well as gender and sexuality studies. I’ve had the amazing opportunity to be taught by both Sam and Tracy, and I am excited to joint the Fit is a Feminist Issue community! When my nose isn’t in a book, I can be found in coffee shops, at the gym, or taking on car repairs that are far beyond my capabilities.

Guest Post

Joh turns 50 and goes skydiving (guest post in both official languages)

Sam B4 Comments

Saut en parachute – 8 mai 2022

Ma bonne amie Lucie et moi avons eu la géniale idée d’acheter une carte-cadeau en décembre 2019 pour un saut en parachute pour célébrer nos 50 ans. La pandémie et la mauvaise météo nous ont obligée à reporter le saut 4 fois : la première date prévue était en mai 2020 (confinement COVID), la deuxième en août 2021 (mauvaise météo), puis en septembre 2021 (montée des cas de COVID), et finalement, le samedi 7 mai (trop de vent). Inutile de vous dire à quel point nous étions fébriles lorsque le saut du dimanche 8 mai a été confirmé! Je me suis donc dirigée vers Joliette, où se trouve l’école de parachutisme Voltige. Le saut est prévu pour 13 h. Le temps de s’inscrire, se peser, suivre une petite formation et procéder à l’habillage avec notre instructeur, et nous voici dans l’avion, en route vers l’altitude de 13 500 pi où nous sauterons dans le vide! Le forfait prévoit une chute libre de 45 secondes, puis une douce descente sous le parachute de près de 3 minutes, bien attachée à mon instructeur, Richard. J’ai évidemment acheté le forfait vidéo-photos pour immortaliser cet événement, que Cédric capturera tout à côté de nous. (Quel métier quand même que celui de photographe-parachutiste!)

Lorsque l’avion atteint l’altitude souhaitée, on ouvre la porte arrière et les tandems commencent à sauter… c’est maintenant vrai, je vais sauter en parachute! Richard me pousse vers la porte, je m’agenouille face au vide et… c’est parti! Nous commençons par faire un 180 degrés et regardons l’avion s’éloigner, puis nous prenons la pause « banane » de la descente en chute libre. C’est vertigineux. Nous descendons à toute allure et ça coupe le souffle. Je tente un sourire pour la caméra et je garde la position, bien docile. Puis, le parachute ouvre et tout change. Nous descendons maintenant tout doucement et je peux regarder le paysage et vraiment profiter de ces moments de pur bonheur. La température est parfaite : beau soleil et ciel complètement dégagé. Nous voyons jusqu’à Montréal, à quelque 75 km. Et, bien sûr, les champs à perte de vue et la rivière L’Assomption qui se déroule en méandres sous nous.

Toute bonne chose ayant une fin, nous nous rapprochons du champ d’atterrissage, qui se produit sans problème, sur les fesses. Cédric est là pour recueillir mes premières impressions, qui se résument à « Wow! Incroyable! ».

Quelle journée et expérience mémorable! Merci à Richard et à Voltige de m’avoir permis de cocher un autre élément de ma liste du cœur (bucket list).

Joh. est traductrice, originaire de Montréal et vit maintenant à Toronto. Elle aime être en plein air autant que possible et fait du vélo, du ski, du canot, du kayak, de la randonnée pédestre et, plus généralement, aime trouver du temps pour être active, malgré une vie divisée entre un travail à temps plein, des contrats et un enfant.

********************************

Skydiving – May 8, 2022

My good friend Lucie and I had the great idea to buy a gift card in December 2019 for a skydiving jump to celebrate our 50th birthday. The pandemic and bad weather forced us to reschedule 4 times: the first scheduled date was in May 2020 (COVID lockdown), the second in August 2021 (bad weather), then in September 2021 (rising COVID cases), and finally, on Saturday, May 7 (too windy). I don’t need to tell you how excited we were when the jump on Sunday, May 8 was confirmed! I headed to Joliette, where the Voltige skydiving school is located. The jump is scheduled for 1pm. Time to register, get weighed, follow a little training and get dressed by our instructor, and here we are on the plane, on our way to the 13,500 ft altitude where we will jump into the void! The package includes a 45 second freefall, then a gentle descent under the parachute for almost 3 minutes, securely attached to my instructor, Richard. Of course, I bought the video package to capture this event, which Cedric will capture right next to us (what a job being a skydiving photographer, isn’t it!).

When the plane reaches the desired altitude, we open the back door and the tandems start jumping… it’s now true, I’m going to skydive! Richard pushes me towards the door, I kneel facing the void and… here we go! We start by doing a 180 degree turn and watch the plane fly away, then we take the “banana” position and start the freefall descent. It’s dizzying. We go down at full speed and it takes my breath away. I try to smile for the camera, and I keep the position, very docile. Then, the parachute opens and everything changes. We are now slowly moving down, and I can look at the landscape and really enjoy these moments of pure happiness. The weather is perfect: beautiful sunshine and clear sky. We can see as far as Montreal, some 75 km away. And, of course, the fields as far as the eye can see and the L’Assomption River meandering beneath us.

All good things must come to an end, as we get closer to the landing field. We land on our butts without any problem. Cedric was there to collect my first impressions, which can be summarized by: “Wow! Unbelievable”.

What a memorable day and experience! Thanks to Richard and Voltige for allowing me to check off another item on my bucket list.

Joh is a translator originally from Montreal and now living in Toronto. She loves to be outdoors as much as possible and enjoys biking, skiing, canoeing, kayaking, hiking and generally finding time to be active, despite a life divided between a full-time job, contracts, and a child.

Video of Joh’s jump, dive, and landing. How about you? Tempted?

fitness · Guest Post

Workout Selfies: Yay or Nay?

amysmithphd2 Comments

A few weeks ago Virginia Sole-Smith at Burnt Toast wrote about posting workout selfies. The internet did what it does, which is have a variety of opinions. I posted a link to the article on my personal Facebook page… some folks messaged me privately to say it was an interesting article and they were thinking more about it after reading. Other friends commented publicly to say they agreed or understood the point of the article. One friend said “I’m sure I don’t agree – not sure on the why,” and there were additional “disagree” or “agree, but that isn’t why I do it” comments.

The article also got posted in the FIFI Facebook feed, and received multiple responses. After going back and reading through the responses I noticed that a lot of them are in favor of workout selfies and felt the article was out of bounds in saying that they were unnecessary. A few folks said they were interested in sitting with the why behind the selfies, as Sole-Smith suggests: “we should sit quietly for a while with why we do it. And name its potential for harm.”

I’ve been thinking a lot about this article since my first read of it, and have revisited it a few times. I like the nuance Sole-Smith brings to the piece, and the fact that it isn’t presented as an all or nothing argument. I follow many “influencers” on social media who document their athletic movement, most of them doing so in larger bodies. I follow them specifically because I want to see larger bodies doing joyful movement, and my feed is carefully curated to avoid weight loss and diet influencers. If someone I follow is interested in changing their body I support that goal, but I’m likely to unfollow them if they talk about intentional weight loss as a virtuous endeavor, because that isn’t something I’m interested in reading about. There are a few folks that I think manage a good balance between discussing weight loss and activity because they understand the potential harm of weight loss discussions that aren’t contextualized. For me, Sam is a great example of this where she has chronicled her path to knee replacement surgery over the years (sorry that it still hasn’t happened, Sam!)

Influencers aside, I have several friends who post workout selfies on their social media accounts. Some do it to keep themselves motivated and share their movement journey with friends. They get “likes” or favorable comments which helps them feel supported. One friend runs a monthly marathon for local charities and her daily run selfie includes images of local scenery, social justice-orientated signs/murals, and related social commentary. Another friend is a sociologist studying race in running spaces. She posts her daily running selfie to show a Black woman in our local, white-dominated running environment. I’m so used to seeing these posts that I rarely stop to think about them and what they mean or convey about workout/diet/selfie culture, if they mean anything at all. But I often notice when friends who don’t normally post workout selfies start posting them, especially when they also post about intentional weight loss. Sometimes their commentary comes with statements like “been inactive for too long, gotta get myself back in shape” or other similar sentiments. Those posts always make me a little sad because I don’t feel like they are moving for movement’s sake or for joyous purpose, but rather to try and punish their body for being “bad” or “too big.” And once I start thinking about those types of comments I start to wonder what they think about the “bigness” of other bodies, and how that shapes their perspectives and interactions with folks who have those bigger bodies.

Overall I’m in agreement with Sole-Smith’s perspective on workout selfies. I don’t think they are needed very often. I love being in supportive movement-specific groups and that is where I expect to see, and sometimes share my own, movement updates or sweaty selfies. And I’m not here to tell anyone else what they can or should post on their social media accounts. We’re all different and we all enjoying posting and viewing different types of things. But I think it is worth some self-reflection to understand why we are or are not posting that workout selfie, what the goal is for sharing, and how it might be received.

Amy Smith is a professor of Media & Communication and a communication consultant who lives north of Boston. Her research interests include gender communication and community building. Amy spends her movement time riding the basement bicycle to nowhere, walking her two dogs, and waiting for it to get warm enough for outdoor swimming in New England.

William tell ain’t got nothin on me (Guest post)
fitness · Guest Post

William tell ain’t got nothin on me (Guest post)

Sam B1 Comment

By Kirsten

Picture this, a century far far away, in a little town called Ajax, a reltively inactive girl of 17 who needs to take phys ed in order to graduate. Thankfully, Grade 12 phys ed is all elective so every 2 weeks you switch activities. Perfect! She tries a bunch of activities – horseback riding, bowling, curling and archery.

Fast forward 30 years. Who dis? New century, same girl only now significaltly closer to 50 than 20. She has, over the years gone horseback riding, participated in a bowling league, but has always wanted to explore the world of archery.

You guessed it, that’s me! I moved to Kingston, Ontario at the age of 47 during the heart of the pandemic. Needless to say, starting over in a new city is difficult at the best of times so I decided as soon as it was possible, I would continue my journey of being active with the goal of eventually finding what fit meant for me and my round body.

Google to the rescue: Kingston Archery Lessons. BINGO! Sign me up! I signed up for the newsletter and finally it came – lessons are open!


Cue the rash of Hunger Game references. I told each and every person, no! My interest started when Jennifer Lawrence was still in diapers. I wanted to be the next Geena Davis ( a beautiful, strong woman who in addition to being a phenomenal actor, also was an Olympic Level archer.)

My first of six weeks of 1 hour lessons was on Saturday March 12. There were 2 instructors, 4 men, 5 children and me. I was beyond excited. First step was to determine which eye was dominant so we knew if we shot left or right handed. Point your finger at something across the room. Then look at that spot with one eye. Then the other. Whichever eye kept your finger pointing at the spot is your dominant eye.

Go ahead, try it! I’ll wait!……so then we were assigned a bow (a revcurve bow – best for beginners). We chose an arm protector (so that we didn’t get string burn if the string hit our arms after releasing the arrow) and we were taught that there are 10 steps in archery.. Each week we covered 2 steps and the final class was the tournament!


Here are the steps
Stance – place your legs shoulder width apart and facing straight (perpendicular to your target)
Nocking the Arrow – put the arrow in the bow and attach it to the string (each arrow has a divet in it to put the string into)
Setting the Drawing Hand – ensure your fingers are above and below the arrow, do not touch it!
Setting the Bow Hand and Bow Arm – your bow hand should be at a 45 degree angle and not holding onto the bow for dear life. Hold your arm at shoulder height, straight out.
Predraw and Drawing the Bow – draw the bow back towards your face
Anchor – your nose should be touching the string and your thumb is touching just under your jaw
Holding and Aiming – generally aim below where you want to hit, hold it there for 5 seconds
Release – ka POW!
Follow Through – keep your stance, don’t move the bow


Relaxing–Do your best Taylor Swift impression and shake it off!

Shake it off!

It sounds way more complex than it is. Once you learn the muscle memory, it’s quite simple.


I found archery to be a fantastic sport that is as much mental as it is physical. It takes a great deal of hand eye coordination and the absolute rush of power when you release the arrow is phenomenal! It’s a fantastic sport that does not require a ton of athleticism but is still active as you really use your core and back/shoulder muscles.

There are several kinds of bows – the recurve is best for beginners, the longbow (it’s very tall – like over 5 ft tall), the compound bow and the crossbow., As one progresses in their experience, one can try the other kinds of bows and it very much depends on your environment and what you’re shooting at.


My experience at the beginner class was amazing! I am already signed up for the intermediate and can’t wait to shoot some more! I very likely will invest in my own bow and arrows. A search on the Archery Canada website will take you to archery supply stores. You can also check out your provincial associations, tournaments and general information about archery.

As a non athletic person who likes to be active and is working towards her fit, I can’t recommend archery enough. It’s incredibly empowering and a truly enjoyable sport!

Bio: Kirsten (aka Kiki) is a woman approaching 50 who has struggled with exercise her entire life. She lives in Kingston with her 2 cats and occasionally a Shar Pei named Giselle. She is currently taking archery lessons and hopes to start curling again this year. Kirsten is also an active participant in a virtual distance challenge and is currently walking from Cairo to the Pyramids at Giza.

fitness · Guest Post · habits

10 a.m. only comes once a day

amysmithphd4 Comments

10 a.m. is my window of greatness. All things are possible at 10 a.m in my world. I’m not an early riser, nor am I a great sleeper, so no matter what time I get up I never really hit my groove until around 10 in the morning.

Image description: A small portable alarm clock showing the time as 10:13. Image titled “Clock” by Simon Shek.

Even though I have a semi-flexible work schedule, I still like to have some structure to my days. And with a lot of meetings and a fair amount of appointments each week, I have to keep a good eye on my calendar to avoid missing something or scheduling over another commitment.

It turns out though, unfortunately for me, that 10 a.m. only rolls around one time each day. Why does that matter? I can usually only do one task during that “greatness” window. If I’m home and don’t have any meetings I will often opt to get some movement in during that time. I typically have my best/peak movement sessions when I can complete them in the 10 o’clock window. And I’ve noticed that if it doesn’t happen during that time the odds of getting movement in later in the day diminish as the clock ticks toward evening.

It turns out that movement isn’t my only 10 a.m. activity though. I live in an area where traffic can be very heavy during the morning and evening commute, and afternoon traffic worsens with the school/bus transit schedule. So when I need to schedule an appointment I often find myself asking for the 10 o’clock hour. It is early enough that doctors and other service providers aren’t behind and running late, and places like the post office aren’t overly crowded.

Appointments and movement time aside, I also find that 10 a.m. is my ideal time to write. Yes, I am writing this at 10 a.m., and since I started writing have received a text reminding me of a 10 a.m. appointment later in the week. As a professor, research and writing are a part of my job responsibilities. While I find that I research and outline best at other times of day, writing comes easiest during my personal golden hour.

This preference for doing all the things in the 10 o’clock hour is something that I’ve noticed since the pandemic shifted my schedule in the spring of 2020. Prior to that I had a less flexible work schedule and typically only tried to hold that morning window for tasks related to writing, or other work obligations. As my schedule shifted and settled into the current configuration I started to wonder why there were days I felt like giving up before I even got started. It took some time to sort out that my brain was saying I couldn’t write because I spent the magic hour biking or at an appointment. Or it was saying that I should plan to skip the bike ride because the afternoon would be too busy and I had already squandered my movement time by spending it writing.

Several years ago when I was really struggling with meeting my writing goals I started looking into schedule blocking, and learned that many people have this time in their schedule that they feel all things are possible. I’ve seen it referred to as tiger time, magic hour, golden hour, drive time, and a few other names. The gist is always similar in these descriptions – it is the time in which you feel most productive and focused. For some people it is a specific time of day (10 a.m. for me) while for others it is a range, such as 10 a.m. to noon or 3 p.m. to 6 p.m. The duration of the window will also very from person to person, or even from day to day. There are days when my window of deep focus only lasts 45 minutes, while other days I get into a flow and realize it is well past lunchtime and my stomach is growling.

Since learning about time blocking and schedule management I’ve started following some habit change experts, particularly ones who work from a base of self-compassion and not from a “hustle” or “grind” framework. One thing I’ve learned is that having awareness about my own scheduling preferences is more than half the battle. Once I realized that I was scheduling all of these things over top of each other in my mind, I was able to figure out how to best prioritize them to ensure there was something left for all my commitments, even if they couldn’t get done at 10 a.m. I’m much better at telling myself that a bike ride is possible at 3 p.m., and it is okay if it isn’t peak performance because the events of the day have used up more energy than if I had ridden at 10 a.m.

Do you have a “golden hour” or “magic window” where you feel most productive? What types of activities do you hope to complete during that time, and how do you adjust when it isn’t possible? I’d love to hear more strategies and tips for those really hard or busy days.

Amy Smith is a professor of Media & Communication and a communication consultant who lives north of Boston. Her research interests include gender communication and community building. Amy spends her movement time riding the basement bicycle to nowhere, walking her two dogs, and waiting for it to get warm enough for outdoor swimming in New England.

fitness · Guest Post

Adaptive exercise: When medical compression garments get in the way of working out (Guest Post)

Michelle Lynne Goodfellow4 Comments

I started wearing thigh-high, medical-grade compression stockings a year ago; here’s what I’ve learned about trying to work out while wearing therapeutic compression clothing.

The discomfort started during the first shift of a new job. I’d just moved to a different part of the province, and I’d taken a temporary survival job to pay the bills. I was working on the sales floor of a large book retailer, and I Ioved being surrounded by books while I worked. What I didn’t love, however, was how much my feet hurt by the end of the day.

I tried cushioned shoes, which really helped, but I also decided to try compression socks (15-20 mmHg), figuring they couldn’t hurt. (Sam and Catherine have written in the past about the various benefits of wearing low-grade compression socks, here and here.)

Indeed, for the next couple of years, the knee-high stockings that I bought over the counter every few of months from my local drugstore seemed to do the trick. My foot pain immediately improved, and I was able to continue working 40 hours per week in retail (eventually at a fabric store, after my bookstore contract ended).

Then I noticed something troubling: I was beginning to get a bulging varicose vein on the inside of my right knee, above where my drugstore compression socks ended. It looked really gross… and on top of that, it eventually started to ache and throb badly – especially by the end of an eight-hour shift at the store.

My family doctor referred me to a vein specialist, and he recommended vein stripping, but I couldn’t afford the treatment at that time, since I was making minimum wage as a casual employee, without extended healthcare benefits. In fact, I couldn’t even afford the thigh-high prescription compression stockings that were his alternate suggestion. At nearly $200 per pair (and knowing I would need to buy at least 6 pairs per year), I gave up on that treatment plan, and continued with the over-the-counter knee-high stockings that I was already using.

(Even those were expensive, given my budget at the time. I usually had five or six pairs on the go, and they cost about $25 per pair. They had to be replaced every six months or so, when the heels wore through.)

Fast forward to the fall of 2020, when I was home quarantining after getting COVID-19. I was isolating in my bedroom, so that my housemate wouldn’t get sick, and I spent a lot of time lying down on my bed, or sitting cross-legged on the floor.

The bulging varicose vein on the inside of my right knee developed full-blown thrombophlebitis, or a blood clot in one of my superficial veins (which is thankfully less serious than deep vein thrombosis; but still painful, and requiring medical attention).

My family doctor eventually prescribed thigh-high, medical-grade (30-40 mmHg) compression stockings, and I resigned myself to both the expense and the awkward inconvenience of having to wear compression garments all day, every day – probably for the rest of my life.

(Chronic veinous insufficiency and chronic superficial thrombophlebitis are irreversible, progressive conditions that cause stagnant blood flow and swelling in the superficial veins of the legs, and are an occupational hazard for people who stand for long periods. The condition affects a diverse range of occupations, from retail workers and cashiers, to healthcare professionals (nurses, doctors, surgeons, pharmacists), teachers, chefs, food service workers and food servers, police, hairstylists and barbers, and industrial workers.)

I’m almost 55, and my retail career coincided with the most vulnerable age (50 and older) for developing problems with superficial leg veins. I eventually found work that didn’t involve standing all day, but sedentary workers (office staff, programmers, writers, drivers) are also vulnerable to chronic venous insufficiency. Sitting is the new smoking, right?

I’m at peace with wearing compression garments by this point. I genuinely feel better when I wear them regularly. (Which is not to say that I haven’t occasionally pushed back against my circumstances, and flirted with removing my stockings when I’m not actually working. The results have been resoundingly negative: I get a flare-up of phlebitis (vein inflammation) whenever I ditch the stockings, even for a few hours.)

One thing I’m really struggling with, though, is how to fit exercise into my life, when I have to wear my medical compression garments every waking moment.

Here’s the thing. (Actually, here are several things.) They’re hard to get on and off – especially if your skin is damp (from having recently showered, for example). It takes me a good two or three minutes to get them on first thing in the morning, and I have to be lying down (and wearing special, rubberized gloves) when I do it. Even if I were inclined to want to change them at some point during the day (which I most decidedly am not), they’re a royal pain to put on more than once per day.

They’re also really expensive. At nearly $200 per pair, I can only afford to have two pairs in circulation at any given time, alternating them every other day, and hand-washing them after each use. Each pair, worn every other day, lasts about four months, before I get holes in the heels. Sometimes the stockings wear out even faster, ripping at the area where the silicone band at the top (which helps keep them in place) meets the knit hose. (Thankfully, I can repair them myself with my sewing machine, but the tears definitely shorten their lifespan.)

They’re tight, but they also tend to slide down at inconvenient times when the silicone at the top of each thigh starts to lose its stickiness. Anything that dislodges the silicone cuff is annoying as heck. Hi-impact activities like running and jumping are impossible, if I don’t want to end up with my stockings fallen (and uncomfortably bunched-up) around my knees. Even deep leg bends and stretches can cause the stockings to slide down towards the knees, and I often find myself darting to the bathroom several times per day, to yank them back up.

They’re made out of synthetic materials, which means they don’t breathe. They’re hot… and when you sweat, they feel even hotter. They make my feet smell – every single day. Long, sweaty workouts in compression stockings would mean hot, damp, sticky and smelly body parts that can then develop other lovely conditions like fungus infections.

So after a lot of trial and error over the past few months, here are the conditions that I’ve decided I require for my physical exercise, while wearing compression stockings:

  1. Workouts that aren’t long enough to make me break into an uncomfortable sweat.
  2. Low-impact workouts, without a lot of extreme leg movements (unless I’m working out somewhere where I can continually be pulling my stockings back up).
  3. Workouts where I can wear loose, comfortable pants that don’t fit snugly on my legs, because the compression stockings cause serious “muffin-top” at thigh level, making it glaringly obvious that I’m wearing some kind of supportive hose.

Here are the acceptable-to-me adaptations that I’ve landed on, that allow me to work out without too much disruption to my life, or too much mental frustration from having to adjust the stockings, pull them on and off more than once per day, or sit around in damp, smelly stockings for long stretches.

  • I like taking casual, 15-20 minute walks, not far from home. I yank up my compression stockings as high as they will go before I leave the house, and I avoid walking too briskly, so that the stockings don’t start to drift down my legs during the walk.
  • I like working out inside my home, especially in my basement where it’s coolest, especially in the warmer months.
  • The other benefit of working out at home is that it doesn’t matter what I look like. I can wear close-fitting leggings without worrying what other people might think about the artificial lumpiness of my legs.
  • I prefer not working out at the beginning of my day, before I leave for work, so that I don’t have to wear sweaty compression stockings all day, or change my stockings. (I commute to my office job every day, although I will temporarily have a hybrid working arrangement when some office renovations begin shortly.)
  • When I’m working at the office, I like to add a lot of extra movement into my day – especially since I now have a very sedentary job where I work on the computer nearly 100% of the time. I take frequent trips up and down our office stairs – to visit the coffee machine (where I get hot water for herbal tea), or ask my colleagues questions in person, instead of emailing or phoning them.
  • I want to experiment with doing short bursts of movement in my office – things like wall pushups or desk pushups, or even a set or two of squats or lunges beside my desk.
  • For many years I’ve enjoyed taking short “dance breaks” at home, which last the length of one or two upbeat songs, and make me feel happy. Even if I get a little “bouncy” (and my stockings slide down my legs), I can pull my stockings back up without fear of being seen.
  • I did a lot of qigong exercises during my cancer treatment several years ago, and it’s recently occurred to me that they would also be good movements to do in my current circumstances.

I realize that, in the grand scheme of things, having to wear compression stockings is not the worst thing that could happen. But if you’d asked me when I was in my 20s or 30s if I could visualize myself wearing medical compression garments in my future, I probably would have been appalled and dismayed. (Cue the ageism of youth.) As with a lot of aging experiences, I’ve been really humbled by the changes I’ve had to make in my life as my body grows older. But I’m also glad that I have options, when it comes to moving my body and being healthy.

Michelle Lynne Goodfellow works in the nonprofit sector by day, and also enjoys writing, taking photographs, sewing flowered dresses, and making illustrations. You can find her on Instagram, here.

Guest Post · strength training

Lifting weights for strength (cw: brief discussion of weight, guest post)

Sandi C.

Last week the Fit is a Feminist Issue Facebook page posted this article from Today.com: Strength Training 101: Is it better to lift heavier weights or do more reps?, written by a personal trainer and weight-loss coach, suggesting there are ways to get “sleek and toned” muscles and ways to “bulk up”. (Sam’s Note to Self: When postings for discussion, make that clear!) Almost immediately, Jennifer F. responded with “Wow, was that written in the 90s? There are a couple of valid points in there, but I thought all that was debunked years ago?” then linked to an article from Stumptuous.com: Lies in the gym.

Thanks Jennifer, you saved me a few steps! I was about to hunt down a debunking article myself.

The author does not lift weights heavier than 7 pounds to avoid bulking up her shoulders, back and chest. Now I’m all for lifting appropriately and I’ll never say 7 pounds isn’t enough if that’s what your body allows but avoiding more than that to prevent bulky muscles seems like a strange limitation to put on one’s self. Most of the coaches I have spoken to over the years have laughed at the idea of women accidentally becoming bulky from weightlifting, because that has just never happened. The women I know who have competed in body building competitions have worked extremely hard, strictly monitored food intake in the days leading up to competition and have looked amazingly muscular, but not what I’d call “bulky”.

COVID closed down the gym for a while and I’m still trying to get my groove back, but at the height of my sportzing career, I was lifting 5 days a week, and was going for strength. My bench press was 160lbs shortly before we went into lock down and my partial deadlifts were 275lb. My traps were well defined, and still mostly are, as were my biceps and triceps. No matter how much I lifted though, I couldn’t get really big muscles.

I have been lifting weights for 10+ years now. I’m strong enough to open my own jars, help my husband lift heavy appliances off the back of the truck, and I broke up a significant share of concrete after tearing down my barn, using only a sledgehammer and my own power. I lift heavy bee boxes because my husband made it clear he had no intention of becoming a beekeeper, and if I was going to become one, I needed to figure it out.

I have put on weight over the last few years, surprisingly not during lockdown, but from so much work travel in the few years before that. You can’t eat in restaurants every night with at least one glass of wine or beer at dinner, without adding to the waistline, and it’s been hard to remove it. That is my “bulk” and it seems to be very attached to me. I call that my protective cover, but under all that, my muscles are solid and capable and I’ll lift as heavy as I can for as long as I can.

Sandi in a T-Shirt and sweatpants, swinging a 10lb hammer over a large piece of concrete foundation.
Guest Post

Pen or Pencil?: Some thoughts on mistakes (Guest post)

amysmithphd4 Comments

My friend recently showed me a set of beautiful pencils she was buying. We’re both proponents of nice writing instruments, and I was glad she had found a new set that made her heart sing. During this conversation I mentioned that I a) did not care to use pencils very often, and b) dreaded using an eraser. The eraser is really more of a practical bit – I just don’t like all those little tiny eraser shreds after use. But I started to really think about my preference for pens over pencils, my preference for permanency.

I make a lot of mistakes. I’m sure most people do, but some days it feels like I make more than the average bear. Despite this, I’m still willing to do the crossword puzzles in pen, with little scratch-outs and letters that have been written over several times. My errors are plainly visible to anyone looking over my shoulder or coming behind me (yes, I even start the crosswords at the doctor’s office in pen.)

My lifelong movement journey has been filled with mistakes. Some of them are permanently written on my brain, while others are more visible on my body. A limp here, a grimace at a particular movement there. The days when my brain says moving will not make me feel better, despite years of that being untrue. The flashbacks to an adolescent gym class when I was told I was too slow, too fat, or too much of a girl to do a particular activity or sport. Some of these mistakes aren’t mine, but they are indelibly stained onto my body.

After years of ignoring my body and believing it needed to look a certain way or do certain things, I sometimes still struggle to align my body and brain. This isn’t about celebrating all the things I can do – I’ve become very good at that. It’s more about the actual link between movement and thought. I’m not very coordinated, and my brain and my muscles don’t always connect together. If someone tells me to swim down the lane like Katie Ledecky my brain is sure that I am doing just that. I am sleek, I am strong, and I am fast. When I come back to the edge I can’t help but notice I’m not nearly as fast as Katie (who is!?) and when I watch video of my swim I see I’m not following any of the swim instructions my brain was sure I was excelling at. I look more like a fish out of water, not the graceful mermaid I had imagined. The disconnection between brain and muscle can feel overwhelming some days.

I’m not saying my pen over pencil preference is the perfect metaphor here. On some level I just prefer a pen. I like the weight of a heavier pen and the feel of the ink scratching onto the page. I prefer a blue or a purple ink. I truly do dislike the feel and the mess of those little eraser shavings after an edit has been made. These are just my preferences, of course, and I’ll gladly support yours for something different.

Although there have been disagreements between my body and brain over the years I’ve been proud of the things my body (and my brain) have accomplished. There has been a lot of joy in movement. And still, after all this time of putting my mistakes out there (in pen!) for everyone to see I’ve started to appreciate the openness of that. It feels good to have a record of what worked and what needed correction as my body and brain find more alignment with one another. Last month I found myself “riding to the beat of the music,” moving my legs in the same 1-2, 1-2 pattern as the cycling instructor was calling out. The sense of accomplishment in that small act was enormous, scratching out and writing over some of the old words I’d written on my body.

Amy in a blue sweater staring into the distance and squinting in the sun

Amy Smith is a professor of Media & Communication and a communication consultant who lives north of Boston. Her research interests include gender communication and community building. Amy spends her movement time riding the basement bicycle to nowhere, walking her two dogs, and waiting for it to get warm enough for outdoor swimming in New England.

fitness · Guest Post

The first women’s expedition to the North Pole (1997)

Lynette

It’s a snow day in Halifax. Shame it’s a Saturday–no school or work cancelled, for most people. When you come from the prairies, the fact that 10cm of snow gives everyone out here a holiday is a hoot. I drove around this morning in the thick of it, enjoying the way that snow on the road makes driving a much more dynamic conversation with the road. No boring asphalt that lies still as you drive over it. The snow and the ice and the slush give you some sense of a conversation with the road. It reminds me of what driving felt like for the many months of the year we had snow in Saskatoon when I was growing up, even though I wasn’t the one driving.

I canceled my plans to drive up to the valley today. So I holed up inside with a book, in between bouts of shovelling. The first round was my penance for having taken the car out–I had to shovel out the driveway to get it back in. A friend had passed on to me Matty McNair’s On Thin Ice–a memoir of a women’s expedition to the North Pole (the first women to reach the North Pole on foot, as the “explorer” trope has it).

Cover of On Thin Ice by Matty McNair

It’s not a literary work–more an expansion on the journal that arctic guide Matty McNair kept as she and her assistant guide Diane Martin led 5 relay teams of four women (20 in total) to the North Pole. Travelling to the North Pole isn’t like travelling to the South Pole. It’s not just a long hard journey over snow in extreme cold with weather and navigation challenges in a blank landscape. It’s all that, and in addition, the ground you’re travelling over is dynamic. It’s ice floating on the sea, and just because it’s metres think and forms over multiple years doesn’t mean it’s stable. The most fascinating thing about the book was the description of how dynamic the ice is–the constant challenge to read the ice, cope with its movement–giant plates and blocks of ice crashing into one another, being lifted over one another, creating rubble fields and pressure ridges. And open cracks–leads–that can block your journey and be very hazardous to cross (leaping from ice float to ice float–on skis with 50kg of gear hauled behind you in a “pulk”). These leads can then freeze and on the rare occasion when they align with your direction of travel (they don’t tend to be north-south) they offer a superhighway you can make good time on. Otherwise it’s a nautical mile an hour on average, all 800 or 900 miles to the North Pole. While the ice moves under you, often taking you east (due to underlying ocean currents) and sometimes dishearteningly even south. You can wake up in the morning 3 nautical miles from where you went to sleep. I’m still getting my head around travelling over a landscape that is constantly moving and reshaping itself in real time under your feet and in front of your eyes!

It was a joy to read this in between my sessions outside of classic NS shovelling. First it was lovely, light, fluffy snow that I could toss off the driveway in record time. Then it was the same quantity again of snow but with rain coming down, the snow getting heavier as the rain continued and me getting wetter shovelling in the rain. Then a last round after it all stopped, to clear out the ridges the snow ploughs left that would prevent my car from getting out in the morning. This last round was a classic NS experience in itself–shovelling slush!

The book is also interesting for its record of the guide’s eye view of the colonial practice of being an “explorer” and running “exploration” and adventure companies. Now, I love the sense of exploration that comes with outdoor adventures (see–I just used both words) but I’m also skeptical about it all. Aren’t I lucky to get to “explore” the wilderness areas of this province, aka portions of the ancestral and unceded territory of the Mi’kmaq that were taken from people who knew it like the backs of their hands and would find the idea of my “exploring” it as funny as I would find the idea of someone from New York “exploring” the streets of Dartmouth. Does “explore” just mean a person is stumbling around lost? We hear it as exploring with a hint of discovering the unknown, but it’s unknown only to us. Which surely means it’s just that we don’t know where we are. Someone knows this place like the back of their hand.

This might not have been the case about the North Pole. Who has a reason to go there after all? The fertile hunting grounds are all further south. There’s a fascinating history of controversy about who did or didn’t reach the North Pole. The first undisputed visit to the North Pole by ground is quite recent (1968 or 1969); the first one that was not resupplied by air was 1986. (McNair and Martin’s was of course resupplied by air, with every changeover of relay team.) Peary’s claim is much older, and subject to controversy about whether his Black employee made it first–and still a footnote in many discussions are the “two Inuit” who made it there with them.

The British still describe what they do in outdoors activities as “exploring” and some describe themselves as “explorers”. I hear this on climber’s podcasts. In this North Pole case, the expedition organizers were some kind of equal opportunity colonialists–willing to treat their Canadian and American professional guide team (descendants of British colonialists themselves) with all the disrespect they would give the Sherpa people who have helped them up mountains for decades.

The expedition was planned by a British arctic adventure company just getting in the game–they recruited “ordinary” British women from various walks of life and raised funds ($600,000!) to do the trip. The guides had to haul pulks for 2 and a half months of continuous arctic travel while the relay teams rotated in for 12-14 days. The guides had to cope with constant second guessing by the expedition organizers who hired them, inadequate gear provision, poor clothing choices (to satisfy British sponsors), and awful food with inadequate calories. And at the end of the day, the expedition leader who had flown in for the last leg organized the photos of the successful team–with no question that of course the guides who in fact did the whole route and got them there would not be in the photos. McNair and Martin had to fight to be included in the last leg of the trip. The British company knew that if they did the whole trip, there would be two firsts–the first relay style trip to the North Pole, and the first women to make the trip continuously (McNair and Martin). They tried to deprive their guides of this accolade, but McNair was too aware of the industry and how to fight for her place to let that happen.

I’m in awe of the competence and responsibility that McNair and Martin showed as professional guides in this process. They were taking five groups of four women, most of whom had never done much serious outdoor travelling before and some of whom had never so much as slept in a tent before, on a ground trip to the North Pole. Travel in this environment is extremely hazardous–it doesn’t take much for things to go seriously sideways, and many teams attempting to reach the North Pole fail. The last relay team on the expedition—those with the social capital to get themselves on the leg to have their pictures taken at the North Pole–had even refused to learn to cross country ski properly. The big achievement of the trip is undoubtedly that McNair and Martin successfully guided 20 women inexperienced in Arctic travel to the North Pole. It’s an enormous achievement in the profession of guiding. She has a nice description of the approach that she thinks led to success:

I can’t help feeling proud of these women who, with no previous winer camping skills or arctic experience, are gaining on a group of expedition men! [Comparing their relative position to other teams out on the ice.] I believe that we are succeeding because we are traveling and camping with style. Traveling in style to me means that we are taking care of ourselves: eating before we are starving, drinking before we are dehydrated, stopping before we are exhausted. It means that we have the extra energy to help each other over the ice and support each other emotionally when needed. It means having a warm tent to look forward to during cold days. It means being able to dry our wet mitts, hats, neck warmers. It means keeping up our morale by taking sponge baths, brushing teeth and hair and taking time to prep items of clothing and equipment. It means not dreaming of being somewhere else. Doing it in style means celebrating the joy of living on the polar ice with love and laughter.

Matty L. McNair. On Thin Ice: A Woman’s Journey to the North Pole. p. 114

Basically the lives of all these women depended on Matty and Denise organizing things so everyone could get their clothes dried every night before they set off again the next morning. Small details like that make the difference between safety and success, or lost limbs, death and failure in such an environment.

I made three trips outside today to shovel and I haven’t got a dry mitten or glove left in the house.

I particularly loved her own gradual realization that freshly frozen “leads” with a skin of maybe 3 cm of ice–ice you can feel undulate under you as you travel over it (!!?!)–is actually safer than the much thicker ice that has been broken up and refrozen with newer ice in between old ice. Its consistency gives it greater integrity, and the fact that you can spread your weight across the skis (instead of concentrating it on one block that you stomp on with your boot).

It’s hard to find good YouTube videos showing what it’s like to travel over this arctic ice. Maybe people doing this are too busy surviving to record and post it, and the environment is too unforgiving to bring along a camera person for a small expedition. (It’s a big contrast with climbing, where no one seems to do anything these days without contrast instagram updates and a professionally-produced, sponsor-supported youtube video. Being a pro athlete in some “adventure” fields is basically agreeing to make your athletic accomplishments into commercials for the brands.) Click through to watch on youtube.

Matty still works for the guiding company she founded, now owned by one of her children. I’d love to give you photos from the site but the site is built so I can’t do that. Here’s a screen shot of the home page. Go visit it for more stunning visuals: http://northwindsexpeditions.com

homepage of Northwinds Expeditions http://northwindsexpeditions.com
aging · fitness · Guest Post

Aging is a Pain: Or is it? (Guest Post)

Julie McMullin4 Comments

As I was preparing for the Senior Canadian Curling Championships my recurring knee and shoulder injuries were making it hard for me to curl my best. On the ice, I was in constant pain. I needed to get help and to get help fast. A local physiotherapist was recommended to me, but I was skeptical. I’ve been to a dozen physiotherapists, without much luck. Many have made assumptions about my physical ability and age, which ticked me off. At the same time, I was desperate to relieve the pain. Why? It wasn’t so I could get a better sleep or take less Ibuprofen, it was so that I could curl better — full stop.  That’s what a lifetime of competing, pushing, and playing does. The academic in me is critical of this. The curler in me is not. The aging woman in me … well the jury is still out because, I can’t lie, it’s getting harder.

When you identify as a curler you tend to get curling related presents that I love, like this beautiful, handcrafted ornament from my daughter for Christmas.

I reluctantly made an appointment with my physiotherapist, Nelson, who turned out to be very young and very fit. This could go badly, I thought. As he was collecting information about me, he learned that I was a curler. He very quickly informed me that he is often mistaken for one of Canada’s most famous curlers, Brad Gushue (2022 Canadian Men’s Olympic Skip).

Connection made … check. Rapport built … check.

As Nelson was assessing my injuries, he told me that “the best thing for you to do right now is rest, but I know you are not going to do that so let’s see what we can do”.  I liked this for a couple of reasons. First, there was nothing said about being a woman of a certain age and the importance of scaling back at that age; things that I have heard way too often. Second, he respected that I am an athlete who needs to curl, and to curl well.

Five weeks later and we were off to our competition. I felt a lot better. Not perfect, merely better. But then, what is feeling perfect? For me, there is not a day that goes by where I don’t feel physical pain. As I’m writing this post, my hamstrings are sore, different bits in my back are stiff, and my shoulders ache. As a society, our tendency is to attribute the pain I feel to the fact that I am a 56-year-old woman. But this kind of attribution is simplistic, essentialist, and quite frankly, ageist.

Ageist assumptions about pain permeate other domains of life too. Several years ago, my colleague, Kim Shuey, and I wrote a  paper on aging and the perception of disability in the workplace. We found that workers who attribute their disability to aging are less likely to ask for workplace accommodations and are less likely to receive them even if they do ask.

Feeling “perfect” for me is living with some degree of pain, regardless of my age. It is difficult for me to know how much of my pain I should blame on aging or the spinal fusion surgery I had when I was 11 years old to improve a major case of scoliosis. My back is fused from top to bottom, and as a result, other body parts get stretched to their limits. I don’t think that I have lived a day since my surgery where I haven’t experienced pain. I’m used to it and I’m telling you this because it shows that we need to interrogate our assumptions about the relationship between aging and pain.

Interrogating, however, does not mean ignoring. Competing, pushing, and playing is getting harder. Particularly over the last 5 years, recovery time is longer, more body parts hurt at once, and injury is more prevalent. All of this makes the motivation to train more challenging; especially with a pandemic making it unclear whether my team will have an opportunity to play. Why continue? Because I love curling, the curling community, the exercise, and competing.

So, what says the aging woman jury? — Rest!

But I think not. I guess my identity as a curler is stronger than my identity as an older woman, at least for today.

Or my favourite toque hand knit by the fabulous Dr. Lauren Briens.