I Am!

I read once that the words "I am" are the most powerful words in the universe--and I fully believe it.

In light of this, I have come to a decision that is almost ten years in the making: I am a runner.

In the last ten years, I have done 4 seasons of Track and Field, 4 seasons of Cross Country, spent a week at Nike Running Camp in Montana, 2 half marathons, and 1 full marathon. I have literally run thousands of miles by myself in the off-seasons. In the last year, I have run an average of three times a week every week. Yet, I never identified myself as a runner.

Why would I not consider myself a runner? It's not because I hate running, as so many people do. On the contrary, I actually have a deep and abiding love for running. I love the freedom of putting on my Sauconys and just hitting the pavement. I don't often wear a watch, and I almost never bring any mp3 player either. I relish the feeling of pure animal strength that comes from running farther or harder than I thought possible. I've said before that nothing calms my headache better than a good run, and it's still true. Running is even transcendent and spiritual for me sometimes. Some of my strongest and most meaningful spiritual impressions  or answers to prayers have come to me while I was running.

I haven't considered myself a runner until now because I don't look like a runner, and maybe I never have. Runners stereotypically have long stringy leg muscles, and their proportions tend to be small (not accounting for height, as many runners are tall). Conversely, I think of my body type as curvy pear-shaped. My hips, thighs, and bum are full and luscious. My thighs are strong, but not thin or stringy. I am pretty busty for a runner, as well. I have to wear two sports bras to keep myself comfortable.

Why should my body type have an affect on my identity as a runner? Because, despite how the running community may look on the outside, many runners that I know actually have more body image hangups than other people do. My high school cross country coach often encouraged us all to eat healthier with the emphasis that we would be "leaner and faster", not healthier. But it didn't end there. For example,when I was training for my marathon last summer, I got injured and scoured running forums for advice on how to proceed with my training. I was blown away by how many runners talked about how they needed to lose more weight to keep themselves injury free (even injuries that don't have anything to do with weight at all!). Even more surprising and hurtful were the answers to questions from people wanting to run their first marathon. Many of them would say things like, "I just took up running 3 months ago for my health and I love it! I just ran a 10K race and I think I want to commit to a full marathon. How long should I give myself to prepare?"

Almost without exception, those people were encouraged over and over again to go on a strict low-calorie diet for 6 months or so while maintaining their fitness level before they started their marathon training schedule (which are typically 16 weeks at the shortest, and I've seen some go as high as 30 weeks). This advice defies logic. If a person is trying to go on regular runs, why should they restrict their calories? They need that energy! I feel sorry for those novice runners--they reached out to the running community looking for support and encouragement, and they got bullying and body shaming instead. The Fat Nutritionist and Dances With Fat blogs call this "Hating Yourself Healthy".

I continued my training carefully, taking 4 weeks off of running (but doing other aerobic exercise) and then I only did my longest runs after that until the actual marathon. I learned on these freakishly long runs (meaning 18 more miles) that my deliciously full thighs rub together a lot which leads to severe chafing and pain. So I invested in some good compression shorts that came down low enough on my thighs to protect me from chafe-age. Not only that, but they compressed my loose stomach skin down quite tightly, helping me feel like I looked more like a runner. I was so glad to have them.

But they have become a crutch of sorts for me since then. Most of my runs are short enough that I don't need the compression shorts, but I found myself compulsively wearing them because I wanted them to compress my loose stomach and full lower half; I didn't want people to see what my body actually looks like.

So one day I decided to go on a run without the compression shorts. For the first few blocks, I was so concerned about how I must look to other people. I felt every nanometer of my stomach, butt, and thighs moving with every step. (Clearly, I continue to fight my body image demons.) But I found that the longer I ran, the less I cared about what I looked like--I was having the time of my life, just running!

Since that day, I have done better and better at running without the compression shorts on short runs. And I've thought back to two of my running heroes. The first is John Bingham, the famous Runner's World "Penguin" columnist. His columns were full of advice for runners that don't go for speed. As a teenager, I religiously read Runner's World and especially looked forward to The Penguin's advice because I felt like he was talking directly to me. His words dripped with pure love for running itself, and never contained any sentiments that penguin runners are less than "for speed" runners. But most importantly, every column ended with the farewell, "Waddle On, Friends." No self-deprecation or shaming of others implied.

One of my other running heroes is a man that Greg and I met on our marathon. He was the 5:15 pacer (meaning, his pace was precisely measured to have him finish in 5 hours and 15 minutes and he acted as a guide for other runners). As you might imagine, you have to be quite an accomplished runner to be able to time your marathon that exactly. But this man didn't look like a runner. He was shorter than me, with thick, muscular legs and a large barrel chest with matching stomach. After talking with him for a few miles, I learned that he took up running 5 years ago (as a forty-something man), and since then he has run over 60 marathons. (Meaning, he does an average of one marathon a month.) I asked him what his secret was, and he merely said "Consistency". He never once said that wished he could lose weight and be faster, he just does pacing as a hobby because he loves the atmosphere of a marathon and he loves running. How could anyone not consider that man a runner?

I finally realized that if the Penguin and the Pacer are runners, then I am a runner too. It doesn't matter what I look like. I shouldn't keep myself from something that I love so much for such an unimportant reason. I'm not going to buy into "Hating Myself Healthy", no matter how hard it seems like everyone in the industrialized world tries to sell it.

I am a runner! See me run!