Run! Beat the fattie!

I read this rather interesting post on one of my favourite fat acceptance blogs The F Word about how 'fitness freaks' supposedly are bad for your figure.

Yeah... my first reaction, "Huh?"

I read on, hoping to find some clarification. Rachel - blogger of The F Word - quotes the magazine article that she was reading:

Gym-goers who look out of shape aren’t the best role models, but they might actually inspire you more than people with buff bodies. University of California, San Diego, researchers found that women who exercised next to plump peers worked out two minutes longer than they did when working out next to fitness freaks. Lead researcher James A. Kulik, PhD, thinks the women wanted to show off next to (or avoid becoming like) someone less fit, but they felt demoralized when next to a woman who was more toned.

Oh man.

Shall I get started on this?

I don't look like a fit person. There we go, I said it. I don't look toned, I look incredibly jiggly and flabby, and constantly I manage to surprise people with the amount of exercise I can do. That being said, I haven't always been fit, and while my gym exepriences on the whole are pleasant now that I've found a great place to work out, have a great personal trainer, and know many of the Body Jam instructors on a first name basis (seriously, how the fuck did that happen?), I do know that when I compared myself to others, thin OR fat, the demoralising effect was as such that I didn't want to work out.

When I was at primary school, there were two fat girls - myself, and another girl. The other girl was loud, boisterous, and a bit obnoxious, but she didn't give a toss about what other people thought about her. I was shy, quiet, and would break out into tears if someone said that my hair was too curly (and... this may have happened on several occasions.) Because school teachers have enough of a burden with their academic curriculum, their best attempt at physical education is 'run around the field'. Running Around The Field plays right into kids competitive nature, with kids 'coming first', and 'coming second' and 'coming last.' The kids who came first gloated and were in your face all nyah nyah I beat you all, and the ones who came last were ridiculed. When I was playing netball and the other fat girl wasn't involved in sports, I would come second to last, and the other girl would get teased. She didn't care, and would just make threats to sit on or wrestle the name callers. Though when she left the school, *I* was the one coming last, and I got teased. I didn't handle it quite so well. I stopped trying, and began faking injuries so that I wouldn't have to do the run in the first place.

So what does all of this have to do with people in the gym?

Both of us, myself and the other girl, were doing our best. And we got ridiculed for it. And people took pleasure in 'beating us'. But those were kids. 7 year olds. These people in the gym? I'd suffice to say that the majority of them are adults.

When I was a member at the YMCA as a fifteen year old, I was constantly looking at all of the other members. Most of them were elderly men, who would wink at me and lick their lips whenever I walked past them. *shudders*. But even THEY, could run further, bench press more, than I, someone who was one-fifth of their age.

At my current gym, I've been taught to focus solely on myself. After all, exercise is a completely selfish activity, it's you doing something for you with benefits for you. Yeah there might be indirect benefits from other people catching on to your endorphin happiness, but that's a byproduct.

The moment I start being competitive with someone, the demoralising factor starts to take effect. For example, my friend Andrew started running after I did. I ran 5km before he did, then got injured. I had to start again, work my way back up from the injury, while now he's running up volcanoes n'shit. In fact, the first time I ran 5km, I was angry the whole time, thinking, "I'm not running as fast as Andrew, and he started running after I did. You suck at this. Why the hell are you even doing this? You're not even that good at it."

Surely all of this is only backing up what the quote from Rachel's post, right? Working out next to someone fit is demoralising, yus'm?

I've been bringing my Mum in to do RPM with me on Saturday mornings, and one day, we were getting our bikes ready and a male rider claimed a bike next to my Mum. She cringed, then whispered to me, "I HATE when someone fit sits next to me!"

I didn't feel empathy, or sympathy. Fucking hell, I felt OFFENDED. I knew the other rider - he normally sits next to me in the other class I do, and we carry similar amounts of resistance, and race at a similar pace. Which is lots of load, lots of pace. But he's fit, and I'm not?

I know that RPM is quite possibly the most intimidating class at my gym, simply because of the process - booking a bike, getting a ticket to ride, claiming your bike, setting it up; and if you're taking it seriously, buying bike shorts with a chamois, cycling shirts, and cycling shoes. And going in with two water bottles. (ai-yai-yai.) Yeah, when I first started, I was looking at everyone else's speedy legs, thinking, "Fuck me, what am I doing here?!", but when Jaci patted me on the back after class and told me I'd Done Good, I went back. And now I need to go to rehab. Hi, my name is Marshmallow, and I'm an RPM-aholic.

But like with all of the other classes, the moment you get inside your own head, you work harder, and better, and safer. Yeah that's right, I just said SAFER. My issues with exercise jealousy have sometimes pushed me to the brink of causing further injury - I have have had to be rather stringent with keeping to my shorter distances instead of saying, "3.5km? Screw that, I'm going to run 9km. UP A VOLCANO. And I don't CARE if my back breaks in doing it."

Safer includes the mental side of things, as well as the physical side. The physical side, like I've just alluded to, is not pushing your body so far that you risk yourself to injury. The mental side is that demoralised feeling - that feeling of whatever you're doing, you're not doing enough of it.

At the University gym, I got stared at whenever I walked in. So much that I turned around and never went back. I let my membership lapse, not caring about the money I'd paid. Being a fat person and not exercising - you get hassled about how you should be exercising. But if you try to exercise, it's not enough - you get stared at by the thinner, unsympathetic members, since we're - to steal famous words - 'being fat at them'.

To this day, I get told by 'caring' folk that I should consider exercising. I get hassled by people on the street when I go for a run. The second time I went running, someone shouted at me, "Run, run! Work that jiggle, babe!", and their posse of friends burst out laughing.

Going back to the article; I think it's wrong for us to be so hooked up on 'beating' someone in the gym by working out next to someone who looks out of shape - instead, its the reasons for our demoralisation that should be looked at, rather than pointing to the fat people going, "Why don't I go for a run and beat the fattie! That'll make me feel better!" [And yes, I do realise I'm being rather hypocritical since I've spoken about my exercise jealousy, but I'm working on it.]

I guess the whole point of this is the part of the article I object to the most is "Gym-goers who look out of shape aren’t the best role models". Why should it matter what SHAPE we are whether we are role models or not? And who says that people who 'look out of shape' are unfit? Like I've said before, I do not look fit. Not by a long shot. But from my desk, I can point to several other people who are nowhere near as fit as I am, and all of them would be assumed to be fitter than me. Just because I 'look' out of shape.

Really.

I'd debate this further, but I have running to do.