Runners, body image, and food

I had my annual physical exam the other day. I debated rescheduling it for later. Not because I was busy, which I was, but because I was going to get weighed. Yup. Because I was going to get weighed. Totally nuts, I know.

But here’s the thing. I don’t own a scale, because it makes me crazy and obsessive…well, more crazy and obsessive than I am. And so I judge my weight but how I look/feel and how my clothes fit. Aaaaand, they’ve been tighter recently. Not unwearable, but I’ve been doing a lot of stress sugar eating. And my training isn’t as high as it usually is. So I’ve gained weight. Seriously, probably like 4 pounds, but I can tell. And I know I want to drop that 4 pounds before Boston because extra weight means running takes more effort. There’s a delicate balance of weight, muscle, power, and effort.

So I seriously considered rescheduling my physical until I had lost that 4’ish pounds. Because I didn’t want concrete confirmation of how my blob was taking over the world (I jest). Because ever since elementary school when we got weighed and measured, I’ve hated knowing my weight. Because that number is one that was used as some bizarre measure of comparison and individual worth. And to some extent, it still is. Right? Thinner is better? Wrong.

I’ve read run bloggers who have talked openly about their struggles with disordered eating and disordered body image. It seems that this is a huge issue for women athletes. Even for the elites. And we live in a society that is constantly assessing women’s bodies and determining their value on that scrutiny.

I read an article awhile back about Emelie Forsberg, a super-amazing mountain runner, who is gorgeous and strong. She talks about how people criticize HER as looking too fat to be a runner. Now, to be fair, elite trail and ultra runners look very different–i.e., muscular and dynamic, particularly in the quads–from elite marathoners, who look like they will blow away in the next gust of wind, so you have to remember that. But she is seriously so far from fat. And, in my highly unbiased opinion, cute as a button. (On a side note, I am definitely more drawn to trail/ultra running because my body looks more like those and less like the elite marathoners!)

http://running.competitor.com/2015/11/news/emelie-forsberg-a-world-class-athlete-with-a-balanced-approach-about-food-weight-and-her-body_139891

And because I know our society tears women down in these ways, I arm myself against these barbs by doing things like removing the weight scale from my house. Laughing that my calves are too big for “regular people” knee-high boots and knowing they can carry me for miles and miles instead of Googling surgeries to make them smaller (um, it exists. In Korea). Treating my body as a source of strength and ability and not one to be diminished. Acknowledging that I am allowed to take up space in this world and to OWN that space.

I stop looking at women’s magazines and sometimes even women’s health magazines, because they perpetuate images of women that are not realistic or healthy. I can not look like someone whose job is to look good, who’s valued primarily for their looks, and can invest thousands of dollars and hours in maintaining that look. And I’m not sure I’d want to.

Instead, I think about the compliments I give to my different-shaped body friends and how I tell them they’re beautiful and strong, and make sure I think those same things for myself. We would never treat our friends (or even strangers) the way we (mis)treat ourselves. I think about how my body has brought two boisterous, energetic kids into this world. How it’s gotten me through 11 marathons, and is carrying me towards Boston. All with relatively little complaint.

And the funny thing is that I weigh the same as I weighed in high school. I have not changed the weight on my driver’s license since I was 16. But my conception of how I look, and the muscle and strength I carry within that weight is wildly different than what it was 20+ years ago.

This might also be why I cringe when people talk about eating “clean.” First of all, my food isn’t “dirty” just because you don’t think it’s pure enough…unless it’s been on the floor for more than 8 seconds. Then, it’s dirty. But you gotta wait for the full 8 seconds at least!

Just as I dislike characterizing my body as fat or skinny, I don’t want to characterize my food as good or bad. It is what it is. I have found that when I view food as not allowed, as things forever banned from passing my lips–and they are foods that are DELICIOUS–I end up bingeing or having a really unhealthy relationship with those foods. And, ironically, I recall seeing a post not that long ago about a famous vegan blogger who realized that all of her food restrictions were more about disordered eating than healthy eating. All of her claims about “health” were actually covering up the fact that she was struggling with trying to not eat at all.

This is NOT to say that if you are vegan you have disordered eating. Rather, we have to find what makes us feel good in healthy ways and be balanced in our approach. If we see our eating as a source of nutrition and fuel, as a way of nourishing ourselves (which may sometimes include treats), that is much better than shouting from the mountain tops how you’re gluten-free, sugar-free, caffeine-free, and feeling amazing when you secretly would smother a litter puppies just for a bacon-covered doughnut.

Which brings me back to my annual exam. I’ve been struggling with headaches and nausea a lot lately. I’m not sure what that’s about. My primary care doctor thought it might be allergy-/sinus-related. We’re going to try a steroid nasal spray for a few weeks to see if that helps. If not, we’ll try testing for food sensitivities, etc. In the meanwhile, I’ve started a food journal as well to try and figure out if there are things I am doing aggravating the issue. I’ve gone gluten free for up to 8 weeks before with little difference so I’m not sure that is a concern, but it never hurts to better understand the relationship of nutrition and overall health.

Anyhow, friends, let me know how you try to balance being healthy, nourishing yourself, and being balanced. Any tips/tricks?

Spending time on self care

Women can be bad at self care (yes, I know it’s an overgeneralization). Moms are even worse. Running moms the worst. One way I know this is even the targeted health advertisements I see for women to get mammograms or other screenings, and the advertisement is spun as a “You take care of everyone else, but you also need to take care of yourself in order to do that.” As a mom, you put your own needs and sometimes health behind others (ask any mom what happens when they are “sick”). As runners, we’re even more prone to ignore aches and pains until it’s too late. I get the extra awesomeness of being Korean and having grown up with self-employed parents–read: having minimal insurance/access to doctors–so I don’t go to the doctor when I’m sick or for much in general. Just to give you an idea, my dad slipped/fractured a disk in his neck and ended up having major surgery, wearing a halo brace, and being out of work for a year. And he didn’t go to the hospital, in fact SLEPT on the injury, until the next day.

So yeah, learning to ignore pain and what my body wants or needs runs pretty deep. Recently, Craig (my myofascial guy) gave me a long lecture about how I really needed to work on self care to keep myself injury-free. I couldn’t just ignore stretching, etc. And he may have muttered a thing or two about aging…

And the fact of the matter is that I’m not 25 and gutting out my first marathon through excruciating pain and thinking it’ll all go back the way it’s supposed to in the morning…or in 3-4 months since I refused to run for awhile after that first marathon.

Whereas before, I used to not understand what people meant by this “warming up” before running they would do, and I had no idea what a foam roller was until my second marathon. Oh, and I started training for my first marathon in cotton. A lot has changed. I still don’t warm up, but I do sometimes stick my legs (meaning I use “the stick” or “tiger tail” to massage my legs a bit) and do some dynamic pre-emptive stretching before a run. I wear compression religiously to ward off “something” much like garlic for vampires. I spend more intimate time with my foam roller than I do with my husband. And I’ve always been good at stretching afterwards, but it was only for at most 5 minutes. Craig was talking about spending some serious time getting into the tightness, maybe backing off the mileage, and doing more yoga and other activities.

The brat in me wants to stomp my foot and go, “REALLY?! You want me to do MORE STUFF to be able to keep doing the stuff I’ve always been doing?” Um, yes. As much as I hate to admit it, my body has changed. And my threshold for discomfort has lowered. Don’t get me wrong, I can take pain like no one’s business (hello, two natural child births), but I’ve begun to realize more and more that I don’t HAVE to. And maybe I SHOULDN’T (yes, this post is all about caps). Maybe that’s wisdom. Or just being an adult.  

14 miles in 2 degrees. i can take pain.

I see this in other areas of my life. The other night, I crashed hard at 7:30. After a brutally cold 14 miles starting at 6:15 am, my body was done for the day early. I demanded a lot from it, and it wanted a lot in return. I actually debated forcing myself to stay up. Watch bad shows. Read. Putz on the interwebs. As if some “cool patrol” was watching me and assessing my dork factor for going to bed on a Saturday night so early. But no one was watching. I was the only one who had to face the consequences of my actions. So I went to bed. I slept a solid 11 hours.

I have begun to realize more and more that if I don’t take care of myself, I will be one miserable runner, mom, wife, and educator. And I will make the lives of those around me miserable. And that doesn’t have to happen.

So I go to bed early. I call people when I’m struggling with my depression. I go to yoga. And… I drop down running plans. Boom.

Yup, I decided to move from the 5 day/week running plan to the 4 day/week. My body isn’t happy with what I’m doing or have been doing. Something needs to change. And for some insane reason, it freaks me out to admit it to myself and change the plan, and admit it to others. Even though no one is judging me for it, and most of my running friends would encourage me to be healthy and do what my body needs. But there’s a sick little devil on my shoulder that tells me that I’m not a REAL runner if I’m not cranking out 50+ miles a week. If I’m not running 5-6 days a week. If I’m not running a sub 8:00/mile on the daily. If I don’t make the top X percent. So you push and “dig deep” until your well is empty and you are spiritually or physically broken.

No thanks.

I’ve been there and done that. And I don’t need to go back.

But that’s taken me a long long time to learn. And it’s definitely progress, not perfection. It’s the long view. Boston was once a bucket list for me. And now that it’s on the horizon, I want to make sure that I can actually run it. I don’t know if I’ll run it more than once, so I want to make sure all my crazy work the last two years actually means something. I take it back, it DOES mean something whether I get to run Boston or not (as of right now, btw, there’s nothing to stop me but myself). That I can work hard, attain my goals, and bust my guts doing it. And regardless of what happens at Boston, I’ll know I did good and I’ll be with friends. *cue soaring, inspirational music* But that only happens if I’m healthy and strong enough to get to the starting line. And that only happens if I listen to my body and take care of myself.

Even the elite runners do this. Deanna Kastor pulled out of the Olympic Trials pretty last minute, and Kara Goucher said she “left it all out there,” but it wasn’t enough to make the Olympic Team (although since she was 4th, she’ll be the official alternate). Even Desi Linden, who pulled an amazing second half of the marathon, said she had to trust her plan and not punch it in the first half to keep up with Amy Cragg and Shalane Flanagan (and that plan is what got her to pass Shalane just within the last mile or so and nab second). Amazing. So even the elites have to listen to what their bodies and spirits need.

Sorry if this post was all over the place, but I’ve been thinking a lot about trying to figure out what I need and how to keep myself healthy on lots of fronts. I didn’t have a great foundation for those things growing up, so it’s new terrain. Anyhow, hope you all had a great run this weekend, whatever your plan was.