The Cost of the Thigh Gap

I’m standing in front of the floor to ceiling mirror that lines the walls of the hot yoga class as I’m waiting to begin.

Giving myself the once over, as we all try to do discreetly, and it sounds something like this….

“Holy frizzy curls, dang humidity gets me every time.

Man do my arms look good tan! 

Feeling a little bloated today but this shirt covers it well, good choice.

My thighs are looking strong and firm! Yep, definitely love these leggings, I wonder if they have them in a different color….

(check side mirror)

Dang my butt is getting big and looking goooooood! All those torturous hills are really paying off!  Getting a firm tooshy, nice.” (high five to self)

My eyes settle back on my thighs.  They are definitely strong, I run 4-5 times a week. But having been a gymnast my whole life, my legs have always been pretty solid.

Then I noticed that *gasp!*, there’s hardly a thigh gap!  (please note the sarcasm)

My thighs, and body overall, have gotten stronger and more muscular this past year as I have increased my mileage and racing.  I’ve noticed in how my clothes fit and yes, it did bug me at first.

But did I want thinner thighs or a stronger body?

The old me would have panicked. The free me loves that my body is healthy and strong enough to do what I love.

I used to have the ‘coveted’ thigh gap, though back then I don’t know that it had a name.  Well, it did, it was called an eating disorder.

It was called living off of 500 calories a day. (if you want to call that living)

It was called compulsive exercise.

It was called hair falling out, feeling like you live in an ice box, can’t think straight.

It was called being tormented day and night with thoughts of food and counting calories.

It was called losing friends and not being able to keep jobs.

It was called striving to reach an unrealistic and deadly standard that society called ‘beauty’.

It was called insomnia and migraines and fatigue.

It was called hell on earth.

And it was my life for too many years.

Listen ladies, it COSTS you something to strive to attain a standard that was never meant for you. 

It costs years of living in bondage. 

It costs your health.

Costs your joy. 

It costs your self-respect.

Striving to attain anything that God did not intend for you will always cost you something that you were not meant to pay.

You may attain the thigh gap, ‘perfect body’, boyfriend—but it will never fill you.  It’s an empty hole you continue to tumble down and lose yourself along the way because no IT or THING can ever fill you.

And guess what? Next month the standard will change.  A new fad. New diet. New part of your body that is no longer good enough.

Here’s a question: WHO in the blazes decided being able to see between your thighs is the standard? I have no idea yet you let the ‘all knowing’ dictate what you should be and look like.

Nuh uh. I don’t think so. No thank you.

I could go back and be a 25lb underweight walking hanger for my clothes, utterly miserable—but with a thigh gap! OR I can be healthy and happy and living life to the fullest, with or without the thigh gap.  Because come on ladies, what does that thigh gap actually DO for you???

Will it make you a better runner?

A better wife or mother?

Will it make your husband love you more?

Make you the prettiest?

Or make your friends like you more?

Dear God I hope not!

You are so much more than the size of your thighs or the number on the scale.

 

There is a price to the thigh gap, or really, what it represents. And its not worth it.

So come on ladies, it’s time to fight back. Time to find your voice again and say enough! 

You are fierce and passionate and powerful and beautiful and have so much more to offer this world and your families than a plastic perfection that leaves you empty and exhausted.

Pick up your swords, it’s time to battle.

 

 

 

 

One Run

One run.  Seems simple enough.  Boring even to some.  I mean really, what’s the benefit that makes it so necessary?  Can one run change your life? Probably not.  Can it change your perspective? Most definitely.

Aside from the obvious physical perks of better health and all that goodness, some days that one run teaches me more about myself then I could have ever imagined….

Some things good, encouraging even; some things ugly, scary perhaps.

The lawyer in my head giving his best case as to why I should give up because the anvils I formerly called my legs are screaming for mercy.

The whining that can go on makes me want to run faster, away from myself!  I mean, I can’t stand when my daughter whines but when it’s the voice in my head I can’t escape, that will about make you mad.

Some runs feel like a nonstop battle of good vs. evil, which in and of itself can be utterly exhausting.

Those hard runs can stir those feelings of doubt, as a runner of course, but also as a wife, mother, friend?

 

But then there are those runs I didn’t want to do to begin with:

I was tired.

Not feeling good.

Not in the mood.

Oh so comfy snuggled in my bed.

 

And I went anyway. I won the battle with the nonsense excuses and told my body to get in line.

I ran even when it was hard.  I didn’t stop. 

I pushed boundaries. Pushed miles. Pushed pace.

I ran and ran and ran some more.

I finished the race.  Overcame the obstacles.

I superseded my own expectations (or even own limitations) to surprise myself. 

I PR’d.  I pushed myself to the limits and refused to concede.

 

Sometimes I finish those runs, the ones I didn’t want to get out of my warm heaven for, and feel as cruddy and exhausted as when I started.  It was hard.  My body was tired. There will always be those days.

But I learn from that one run.  Learn where there is still weakness.  Physically and mentally.  Where there is doubt in myself.  Fear, even. The question of ‘good enough’ will again rear its ugly head.

I also learn my strength.  Courage in the face of fear and doubt.  That my body is beautiful in so many ways.  That I am an overcomer.  That I am only required to give my best, in every situation, not perfection.  Give the best of myself to my husband, daughter, friends.

 And I learn that my feelings don’t rule my future. 

My doubts don’t dictate my destiny.

 My fear doesn’t determine my fate.

 Yes, I can learn all that from one run…..

 

The View from the Top

I just started training for my 4^th half marathon coming up on Labor Day and am really looking forward to it.  And after my last half that was a total disaster (and will be its own blog later) I really want to redeem myself. 

So a couple weekends ago I set out for my first early morning long run. I had found a new trail online that I hadn’t run before and the only thing I knew about it was it was super close to home and a mix of paved and gravel. Perfect.

I walk out to the trail head just past this random water tower, start my watch and find my pace. A couple minutes in there’s a clearing of the trees and WOW, the most breathtaking view looking over the city. Bright blue, clear sky and the mountains just look majestic. As I follow the trail I realize I’m briskly going down a rather steep hill….and down…and down, quickly. And I knew what this meant: the amazing summit view I started at was going to be the incline I’d have to take to get back to my car at the end of my 6 miles. UGH.

I tried to push that thought out of my head. I got back into a steady pace as I finally made my descent into the surrounding neighborhoods and enjoyed the scenery of a new trail.

Just under 2 miles in I come to an incline. I’m not talking Indiana ‘hills’, I’m talking look straight up and not able to see the nearest plateau. And this one is all red, gravelly dirt. Talk about a glut workout!

I finally made it to the top to see another amazing, breathtaking view.   The city and subdivision I had just run through was laid out before me. I did a slow jog around the lookout point to take it in and then headed on.

And then I come back down. And down. And down. Which normally is heaven and much welcomed, but on this run all I could think about was knowing I’d be running back UP those inclines on the way back. Grrrr.

Mile 3 was a steady incline and I was overlooking the east side of the city now, my neighborhood and stores, still so beautiful. Such an amazing perspective that I never see on my day to day errands. The view from the top truly is amazing.

Until I headed back for the last 3 miles…. I can see 2 major intersections in the direction I’m heading back and then I see it: on the next major ‘hill’ there is the water tower. Gulp. That’s where my car is. That’s where I still have to get to. And I realize once again how high up I am over the city, and how far down, and up, and down I must go.

For a second I was trying to figure out how to have my husband come and get me. I didn’t know exactly where I was. Didn’t even have my phone. But I just wanted him to come find me because I knew what I was facing on the way back. I was having a momentary pity party until reality sunk in, there was no one coming and I still had 3 miles to go.  Either I run back because let’s face it, that’s where the car is. Or I sit here and well, sit here.

So I kept running.

It was rough. It was hot. I was tired. My legs were angry with me. The inclines were unforgiving. But.  I. Kept. Going. And I finished in surprisingly great time.

That was hands down THE hardest, hilliest trail I’ve ever run. The inclines were killer and the downhills weren’t refreshing. But the view! Not to mention I felt like a beast after finishing that!

You hear of people climbing crazy mountains and you see a picture from the top and WOW. The view. But you never realize the sacrifice it took to get there. Granted I’ve never climbed a mountain but right now these are my own personal mountains, my own accomplishments and the views from the top are worth the fight from the bottom.

In every area of our lives we have uphill battles at times. 

 It’s hard.

Life isn’t always easy. It takes work. It takes sacrifice.

Things aren’t always fair. You’re tired.

But the ONLY way to get that view from the top is to never give up. You can sit at the bottom having a pity party and hope someone will come and find you. Or you can put one foot in front of the other and make it happen.  It’s the difference between looking at someone else’s pictures and experiencing the view for yourself…