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I recall my freshman year at UND when I was already running twice as much as I was my senior year of high school, and my body was going through transformations as a result. The very first thing I noticed was my calves. See, I have tended to run in such a way that my forefoot will land first, and that places a lot of stress on the calves. It stunned me, and it started to almost become a burden. I would be walking up the stairs to my dorm room and there would always be a mirror on the wall, and I would watch my newly-formed calves stretching and contracting and I walked to the second floor. On some occasions when nobody was in the stairwell, I would even embellish a little and get up on my tip-toes to marvel. I wish I was making this up, but I'm not.
It didn't take long into the second semester of my freshman year before I became acutely aware of the body-worship that was taking place. I would be walking around campus in shorts and wonder to myself if anybody noticed my calves like I did, which is completely ridiculous! I started wearing jeans more and more to try to train myself to stop looking at and thinking about it. It actually worked for awhile, but I had to do some prayer to realize that it really didn't matter what my legs looked like- we are all created different. I was satisfied with answer- or at least I was until I had to deal with it again.
The next years went by without trouble, but these past two have been kind of rough. As I've gotten faster and my competition has improved as well, I have noticed that almost everybody I finish near has similar characteristics: skinnier, more defined, and more runner-esque. When others run, you can see each individual leg muscle from miles away (especially in pictures), whereas for me there really isn't any definition- just a white blob. When others run, you can almost picture the wind knocking them over because they have no fat on them, but when I run I jiggle. When others run, their jersey fits loosely over their body, whereas mine fits more snug with less breathing room.The worst is watching professionals train, because they are so ridiculously fit and lean, and I'm usually sitting there eating peanut butter or something.
I know I am not alone in this. How do I know? Look at the prevalence of burn-out and eating disorders among endurance athletes. The desire to be skinnier, faster, and toned all at the same time can lead to disaster. I know I've had workouts where I was unable to finish and for the simple reason that I didn't have enough calories in my body out of fear of gaining weight.* I know a handful of people who have personally struggled with eating disorders, and it can kill a season, but more importantly a person's mental state. Every heard of Dagny Knutson? She was the swimmer from Minot who shattered every record imaginable, made it into the big-time, had an American Record at one point, and then came crashing down due to bulimia. Here's an excellent article about her from the New York Times: http://www.nytimes.com/2013/01/26/sports/swimmer-dagny-knutson-retires-again-seeking-normalcy.html?_r=0
The first time I had any real help with body-comparisons and lack of any kind of self-confidence was conference cross country my junior year of college. We were at Montana State University in Bozeman, and during warmups I was trying to figure out who the big-dogs were; I had seen previous results from earlier in the season, and I knew that there was a guy from Southern Utah who would make it to nationals because he was a stud. I was looking through their team and they had many tall, lanky, lean runners that looked the part, and I couldn't figure out which was him. Fortunately, during the post-race awards ceremony I got to see which was he was- he was the short, stockier looking guy with the enormous calves. He looked to me more like an 800 runner than a cross country runner. I also realized that some of those super skinny, runner-esque guys I had beaten. It dawned on me that perhaps it didn't matter what your body looked like after all.
With each passing year I become more and more convinced that it doesn't matter what your body looks like. You put in the time and you'll get better. Some people are more naturally talented than others, but that's out of your control. Trying to perfect the look of your body in order to expect some kind of artificial success is worthless and stressful. I know now that when I line up at the start line, chances are that most of the other runners will look more like a distance runner than me. I don't care. Every day I get to do something I love and enjoy it. I eat as healthy as I can, but I don't fear having a dessert or unhealthy snack occasionally. I have gotten skinnier, but if I'm hungry I'm not afraid to EAT. If somebody looks faster than me, I don't care- prove it to me in a race. If they are faster, who cares? I then have a new goal to chase.
Don't ever let body image control you. There will always be skinnier people out there. There will always be people who look faster out there. There will always be people who have your ideal body image out there. Realize these two things: 1.) An ideal is just that- an ideal. 2.) There are people who cannot enjoy what they love for various reasons. Set goals, but know when to take a break. Above all, realize that, like I said above, we are all created unique and special by our Creator, and never take that for granted. Our body was made as a temple of worship, not a temple to be worshiped.
I hope you enjoyed this post or were able to take something from it. I have at least three more of these posts on the way.
Blessings,
Nate
*I want to be crystal clear- I do not have and have never had any kind of eating disorder, but that doesn't diminish the argument.
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