The Thrill of Potential Nudity

An important milestone happened this week. I exercised enough to run out of workout clothes. I had to do an unscheduled load of laundry, or run naked. This has not happened to me in a very, very long time. At the height of training for my first marathon in 2008, I regularly did an extra mid-week load of laundry to keep away the stink.

I have not had consistent laundry issues since then. (I also have not run a faster marathon since then.) You may be thinking, girl, just go get yourself enough workout clothes to last a week, which would be an entirely logical solution. Unfortunately, it is also a rather expensive one that I have a hard time justifying if most of those new workout clothes are going to languish in my drawers once the heat and passion of a new running goal, or new training regimen, or new gym membership have inevitably worn off.

My running bras alone are breath-taking works of architectural ingenuity. Investing in architecture requires thoughtful financial planning to ensure a good return on your investment (minimal chafing is permissible in exchange for a bounce-free experience) and avoid bankruptcy (show me effective, breast-taming architecture that costs under $75).

Then there comes the task of finding running tights that A) fit properly, B) are comfortable, C) will not immediately burn through at the inseams due to the heat and friction of my mighty thighs, D) maintain opacity when I bend over, and E) cost less than what I would spend on a week of groceries. (I regularly compromise on C and D for the sake of E, and to do all my gym stretching with my butt facing the wall.)

But after several months now of imperfect, but consistent training and healthy-esque eating, I venture to claim that I am actually making the long-term, sustainable changes in the patterns of my life, which are the foundation of my big running goal. And since I want these patterns to include changes in how I think, then I think I should go buy some new workout clothes.

Embedded beneath my self-confidence, firmly lodged right under that touch narcissism is a voice that tells me I should wait until I'm a certain kind of runner, or have a different body, or have somehow earned new workout clothes. This voice implies that the version of myself that exists right now is not good enough and doesn't deserve it. When I think like this, I mire myself in a sticky, toxic narrative that posits present me is not the real me. It says happiness and satisfaction only exist in the future when I'm finally not who I am right now. That's gross!

And so, to honor present me, and celebrate the authenticity of the joy in my life, I'm going workout clothes shopping this week. And then I'm going to use those workout clothes. Because I'm a runner. And I don't want to run naked. Ever. 

I'm in Training

I adore french fries. Thick and tender steak fries, curly twists of seasoned starch, zigzag-sliced tubers, county fair blocks of deep-fried spuds, hand-cut artisan, or McDonald's frankenfries, I consume them all with soulful, life-affirming gusto. I love them even more than I love hyperbole, and without hyperbole, I'd probably die.

But I'm in the market for some long-term change, and conventional wisdom (or the "wisdom" pedaled to women in order to persuade us to conform to a narrow vision of beauty, acceptability, and happiness - I digress) suggests that french fries and big athletic goals are mutually exclusive. Objections to the objectification of women aside, conventional wisdom has a point. Eating as many french fries as my heart truly desires is not the most efficient way to become a better runner.

So here's what I've been doing lately: I've been telling myself I'm in training. It's a tiny little phrase that's been essential in getting me to the gym and getting leafy greens into my body with shocking regularity. I have a few theories about why it's so effective.

1) It's immediate. I'm not going to be in training starting this weekend, or on the first day of next month, or once this semester is over. I'm in training right now. And so I need to do the things that runners in training do. Like eat kale. Right now.

2) It's a reminder. When confronted with the slender, golden body of a crisp, yet tender french fry, it's easy to forget about my big goals. Telling myself, I'm in training reminds me to move toward those goals. And when I'm reminded about my grand plans, I get really excited and remember all the other things I can be doing or eating that are still pleasurable, but are not french fries.

3) It slows me down. Identifying as a person in training gives me pause in a frenzied fog of lust for salt and grease, and makes me think, do I absolutely have to have fries right now? Often the answer is sweet gold of Idaho, yes, french fries are the only solution. But most of the time, remembering I'm in training is a bucket of ice water to those lusty yearnings.

Being in training doesn't mean I don't eat french fries any more. Deprivation, a sense of loss, and  dimming the spark of life in my eyes are not part of my long-term goals. I'm not training to be an elite athlete, I'm training for successful big runs. The fries can stay, they just need a little balance. So I'm going to keep bringing my gym bag to work, keep eating kale, and keep reminding myself:

I'm in training!

Power in Numbers

No matter how many different motivation strategies I discover and try, they all lose luster after a while, and I'm back to the grinding slog of getting myself to do what I need to do. But one strategy that doesn't seem to lose its effectiveness is peer pressure.

Meeting with other people to exercise takes the unpleasantness out of what might otherwise be another boring training session. There are definitely days when I relish a solo workout with nothing but my body and brain to keep my company. But when I only rely on myself to keep me accountable in my training, I get a little soft. I am a very accommodating personal trainer. You worked hard yesterday, go ahead, take a day off. And eat a doughnut. 

Family Track Club saves the day! For the past three weeks, my cousins, siblings, dad, friends, and I have been meeting on Saturdays to run around the middle school track together. We represent a range of ages (1-68) and fitness levels, from marathon runners to 5K walkers. The beauty of the track is we can all move at our own paces, and yet we can all be together, socializing and supporting. Our weekly gatherings are also a reminder that I am part of an amazing family. I belong to an adventurous crew that is up for anything. They're so inspiring!

I'm usually not too enthusiastic about getting out the door on a Saturday morning, but once I'm on the track with a gaggle of people I adore, those laps fly by. Even though we're working hard, the fun numbs the pain (for the most part). Social training is not going to lose its luster any time soon.