Embracing Our Journeys and Challenging Perceptions
I was recently reminded that the journey of healing your relationship with food never ends. But even though there will be challenging moments, the work is always worth it in the end.
Having recently moved to Lisbon from Los Angeles, I was missing my social group, especially the running community. I found a running group that has weekly and monthly runs, and while I haven’t been able to attend the weekly runs, there is a monthly trail run that I have joined three different times and really enjoyed. It was at this last monthly run, just a few weeks ago, that I had an encounter that took a hit on my self-confidence and made me question my body’s appearance.
I am an Ironman!!!!!
Competitive athletes can be very Type A; I should know, as I am one of them. We like to talk about our training, the races we have completed, the races we have planned—blah, blah, blah. As a “former” (maybe I’ll do another?) triathlete, I discovered this at every social event within the community. When you meet someone new, or even an athlete you haven’t seen in a while, the same questions always come up at the start of every conversation: “What are you training for?”, “What races are you doing this year?”, “Where do you swim/bike/run?”, “Are you going to the weekly X workout?”, and so on. In addition to the responses, there is always some extra information about the races they previously completed and any big accomplishments that came with them (e.g., placing high in their age group, qualifying for World Championships). I totally get it! We are proud of our achievements and the races/challenges we plan to conquer.
As the monthly trail running group was gathering, people were making polite chitchat, introducing themselves, and just milling about until the start of the run. A runner wearing a recently completed marathon race t-shirt introduced himself. He quickly told me that he had run 18 marathons and had qualified for the Boston Marathon at his last race—amazing! A proud accomplishment indeed. If I ever qualified for Boston, I would be shouting it from the rooftops! Then he turned to me and asked, “Are you a runner?”. I paused for a second, surprised by the question. I was at a running event, wearing running clothing, thinking I looked fairly fit. When I responded yes, he then followed up with, “You run 5ks and 10ks?”. Now I was both puzzled and a bit offended. Instead of asking what distances I raced or what I was training for, this individual automatically assumed that I was a 5k and 10k runner.
Let me stop here and say that for many runners, 5k and 10k races are more their style. Great! Whether they are beginner runners or advanced sprinters, these races are challenging distances for multiple reasons. I, however, am not a shorter-distance runner and have always gravitated toward longer distances. So, when I combined his questioning of whether I was a runner with the assumption that I was a beginner runner who mostly ran shorter races, I was deeply hurt and offended. My mind immediately went to a place where I questioned how I looked and how I apparently presented myself as a “non-runner”. If he had simply asked, “What races have you done?” or “What are you training for?”, he would’ve learned that I have completed several half and full marathons, an ultramarathon, multiple half and full Ironman triathlons, and I was a competitive swimmer for over 10 years. But no, he assumed that I was a 5k or 10k newbie runner based on what I can only guess was how I looked. What else could it have been? When I told him of my racing history, he had a look of complete surprise on his face and simply said, “Oh!”.
When I think about this encounter, it makes me think about how we respond to people of different body sizes. We assume that the smaller body is more fit than the larger body, or that the smaller body exercises and eats much healthier than the larger body. This way of thinking is ever-present when we see someone who was once in a larger body but now has a much smaller body. We quickly congratulate that person for their weight loss and how fantastic they look. That alone can be painful for someone to hear because they may wonder, “Well, how did you think I looked before (in my larger body)?”. But then there is the other factor as to why they are the size they are. They might have gone on a diet to lose weight, but maybe they are going through a stressful time in their life, battling an eating disorder, or have a medical condition/treatment that is causing them to lose weight, like cancer and chemotherapy. We just don’t know and therefore we should not assume to know why someone is the size they are, nor should we assume to know what they are physically capable of.
Returning to my encounter at the group run, the reason I was so offended by this person’s comment was that I know I do not have a marathon runner's body. I am not an elite marathon runner, nor will I ever be. I will never be at the front of the pack when the race starts, or standing on the podium when the race ends. But I am fit, I am healthy, and I enjoy the challenge of longer distance races. But can you blame me for interpreting his response as anything other than, “I assumed you were a beginner/slower runner doing the shorter distances because your body is not as small and lean as most marathon runners' bodies”?
Yes, I realize I may be jumping to conclusions because I am sensitive about my body after years of disordered eating. Years of comparing myself to friends, family, competitors, and social media. But it still hurt. felt like my protective armor took a hit that day that I felt in both my gut and my heart. I looked at my body differently in the following days. Examining myself in the mirror, disappointed with not having a smaller body, wondering if maybe I didn’t look like a runner at all. His comments had a triggering effect on me, and I was embarrassed that it affected me so much.
In the past, when my disordered eating dominated my life, such comments would lead me to severely restrict my caloric intake. I would tell myself that I didn’t deserve to eat because my body was not the right size. Just seeing these words brings up deep, painful memories of who I was before and how disrespectful I was to my body. I know I’m not the same person now, but knowing those emotions still reside within me and that such external comments can be so triggering reminds me that the journey of healing your relationship with food never ends. It can be tough. It can be challenging. But it is 100% worth it. It is an aspect of my life’s history that will never go away. We cannot change our history, but we can change our present and our future. I have much more control over these thoughts and feelings, but I still need to work on it every day.
So how do I move forward? How do I change the optics so that I do not get triggered again?
The answer: I speak up for myself in the moment. And I think that is true in any situation where I feel uncomfortable. Whether it’s a social setting and food/dieting is the topic of conversation, an athletic event where I am surrounded by bodies of all shapes and sizes and my internal voice of comparisonitis whispers inside, or a comment is made directly about my body (positive or negative). I speak up and say how I feel at that moment (to the speaker or myself!) and then remove myself from the situation, emotionally or physically depending on the environment. Not only does this empower me, but it lets the speaker know that I do not agree with what they are saying or how it makes me feel. Maybe there is an opportunity to educate someone, or maybe it is an opportunity for internal growth and empowerment. Either way, I will not let it take a piece of me or my self-confidence again.
I am, and always will be, an athlete and a survivor of disordered eating. Forever learning, forever growing.
