The Slide

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You know how when you’re at the top of the water slide getting ready to go? Your heart is racing, and you inch your rear forward slowly. You want to go, but you’re a little afraid. You scoot a little further down, toes curled, gripping the sides of the slide, fingers clenched tight to the rail until suddenly, amazingly, the water grabs you and starts to push you down. You go faster and faster, and then there’s the big drop… down, down, down, whoosh… 

What a thrill! 

Sara Dowdy is the perfect combination of awesome and evil.  She asked me to do a race with her in March, and she knows I’m only doing aquabikes these days so she said, “You could do a whole one.”  What’s a “whole one” you ask?  She and I both knew she meant the whole ironman distance for the two events…  2.4 mile swim, 112 miles on the bike.  Whoa…

 

I love that she thinks of me.  I wish she didn’t think so well of me.  I know what this would take in terms of training time, and I don’t have it.  But even if I did, I’m not sure I want to spend this much time in the saddle.  It did get me thinking about doing a shorter race.  Last May I was thinking I should work toward an Olympic race, but maybe the half is possible…  6 months, 1.2 mile swim, 56 miles of riding…  hmmm.

The longest triathlon I ever did was a sprint.  The longest race I ever ran was a 10K.  I may have been a distance swimmer in my youth, but back then the longest race I ever swam was the 500 free.  The hardest race I ever swam was the 400 IM… This would be a BIG step...

So I have some time.  Early registration closes at the end of November.  I can start training now.  A couple days a week in the pool, a couple on the bike, a couple in the weight room.  I didn’t ride or swim much this summer.  It’s going to be a long road back.  Swam a mile yesterday, slowly, not all freestyle.  Didn’t die.  Rode 20 miles last weekend, not my best, but it felt good. 

I can sense it.  My rear is inching forward.  I’m still hanging on, not sure I’m all in yet, but every season starts out like this.  The slow scooting into the training, the doubts, the excuses. I can still get off the slide any time.  

And then suddenly I’m moving.  I’m in the groove, flying through practices, streaking down the tube. My free time becomes more and more focused on the big five...  eating well, hydrating, sleeping, stretching, training.  Faster and faster. Down, down, down until race day… 

Whoosh!  What a ride!

 “You can’t be that kid standing at the top of the waterslide, overthinking it. You have to go down the chute.” Tina Fey

Strong is Not the New Skinny

For as long as I can remember, women have wanted to be skinny.  As a six foot woman, I have spent most of my life feeling too big.  In 6^th grade I was the tallest kid in my elementary school.  In high school I joined the varsity swim team and subjected myself to the weekly team weigh-ins.  Everyone had to lose weight, so when I weighed in at 140 pounds at 5’10”, my goal was to lose 10 pounds over the season.  I got down to 125 one year, mostly by skipping Tuesday’s dinner and Wednesday’s breakfast and lunch so I could be weighed at 2:15 on Wednesday afternoon.  Then we had a 3 hour practice.  Then I went home to dinner.

My story is not unique.  It’s not even as unhealthy as some.  But the fact that it’s even close to normal for a teenager then or now is a disturbing cultural phenomenon that has plagued women and girls for years before I was a teenager and every year since.  We’ve swept some men up into the insanity as well.

As a reaction, a new slogan has been circulating amongst women, both through the media and at our local gyms.  Strong is the new skinny.  The idea is that women are replacing the desire to be model thin with a desire to be physically strong.  Pictures of lean women with biceps and six-packs are everywhere in motivational posts, throughout social media, and on fitness magazine covers.  I asked my own Facebook network if strong was the new skinny and they were resoundingly in favor.  Women do want to embrace the idea of strength, of fitness, of the ability to carry their own groceries, or a couch if needed.

But I wonder if women aren’t replacing one unattainablephysical ideal for another, encouraging the world to continue to judge us by our physical selves rather than by our intellect, our leadership, or our character. The women featured in these ads are definitely strong.  But they are also incredibly lean, not an ounce of fat in sight, nowhere near what normal, fit women look like.  And the ads don’t feature pictures of whole women, but often just their parts.  We get to stare at torsos, calves, and backs.  For all we know, it’s the same woman, featured piece by piece, photo-shopped and well-lit in thousands of pictures. 

My friends beg to differ.  They don’t think about being strong as a means to beauty.  It’s about taking care of yourself.  It’s about improving health, about doing more in life, not just eating less.  Those hours spent picking things up and putting them down are a journey, a process of becoming not just stronger, but better, more confident, more centered.  And if weight training sometimes leads to being sore or a little bigger, women don’t seem to mind.  The alternative is weak and hungry, and the final results say it all. The end of skinny is death.  The end of strong is stronger.

Strong is not the new skinny.  It is not a means to beauty.  It is not about fashion.  Lifting weights doesn’t make women prettier, it makes them healthier.  Strong is simply what women are and have always been in one way or another.  Strong is giving birth, facing a defiant teenager, comforting a suffering parent. It is building a relationship, a family, a home, a career, a meaningful life.  Strong is about lifting, a loaded barbell, ourselves, a broken heart, or a sofa.  Strong is simply that. Strong.

Limbo

Angela Brown Oberer

"Well limbo is not a good place to be."  ~Bill Joy

 

 

 

 

 

I have a secret.  I’m lost.

I’ve been lost for a while now.  I had the knee surgery in January.  The rehab was rough.  I was supposed to be able to run again by March.  I couldn’t.  So I rehabbed some more and tried again in June.  I couldn’t run.  So I tried other stuff all summer to try to rest my leg.  I did strength without the impact.  Weights.  Elliptical.  Walking.  Cycling.  Stairs.  I still can’t run.

 I’ve been trying out the phrase, I don’t run any more.

I keep saying it out loud to people, trying it on like a coat to see if it will fit.  It’s not that I love running.  It’s that I need to wear the coat in order to create a new identity. 

I was a triathlete.  Now what am I?

People ask… 
Can’t you have a knee replacement?  Yes…  But do I really want that?  I’m not sure. 
Can’t you just do the swim and the bike or do a relay?  Yes… But do I really want that?  I’m not sure.

In order to move forward, to make new plans, to forge a new identity, I have to accept my reality.  Or is it that I have to create my reality?  I’m having a hard time with this.  I struggle with the difference between quitting and accepting my limitations.  I’m not sure what’s true anymore.

 Am I just not trying hard enough?

 

 

I don’t run any more?