What Do YOU See?

Race pic from last summer's Hottest Half.
One of my favorites ever.

I love to race. Mostly because I have been lucky enough to meet a lot of different and inspiring people across FW-D and usually have a chance to see one or more of them while I'm out & about at different races. The other reason I love to race is because I am kind of a bling ho. We've talked about that. It's an addiction, I know. Admitting it is the first step, right?

Cheering on my buddies at the Hobble Gobble, November 2010

If you've run or raced with me, you know I always insist, nay DEMAND, that we get a pic before, or preferably, after a run or race. It feeds my ego to know that hey, not only do these people know me, but they aren't ashamed to take a picture with me and have proof of it!!  (SIDEBAR: I have a very fragile ego that requires constant stroking.)  So I always have tons of pics of me with other friends and runners. And in those pics, I always try to turn my head just so, and suck in my gut, or turn sideways so that if it is a whole body shot that I look somewhat athletic.  But the thing about races is that they often have photographers out on course. And sometimes you know where they are so you can make sure you're actually running when they take the shot, or you can be certain you're not blowing a snot rocket at that point in time, or you can try to look as cool and effortlessly smooth as possible. But sometimes, you don't know that they are there, or you are so focused on the task at hand that you don't notice them as you run by. So they tend to capture you at your most bare & honest moments during a race. And very often, when I see my race photos, I cringe.

Tyler Rose Marathon, 10-10-10

I cringe, because I still don't look like an athlete.  When I see my race photos, I often focus not on the fact that I'm at mile 25 of a marathon, but damn, look at those thighs. There is a reason I mostly wear running skirts for races - they hide my thighs better than tights or god forbid shorts. When I look at race pictures, I often am drawn straight to my midsection, where I see a roll of fat squishing out over the waist of my skirt, beltpack or spibelt. I see my arms, not toned and strong like I want them to be, but soft and flabby, so that I often wear short-sleeved shirts instead of tanks even in the heat of Texas summers. I am doing things to correct these flaws of mine, the pushups and the situps and the attention on my diet. But still, when I see myself in action shots, where I haven't had time to pose, I am very often horrified.

Gorgeous scenery at Banderawesome...

becomes this, to better hide my body.

And I hate that. I hate cropping my pictures so that just my upper body and my face are showing.  I hate that after weeks of 40+ miles I weigh the same and look the same as I did a year ago, five years after I started running marathons. I hate that despite all of the accomplishments and achievements that I have been able to do with this body, with this soft squishy body, that I am still so very focused on the negative. It bothers me, first that my body is so resistant to change that it takes more than what I am doing (HOW MUCH MORE WILL IT TAKE?!) to see tangible results, and secondly that I still give a damn about it.  I am an ultramarathoner. I have finished 10 marathons, countless half marathons and a ridiculous number of 5 & 10Ks. I am a freaking athlete. I am. I just still don't see it. And I know others don't see it either. And that is maddening in so many ways. And frustrating. And painful.

Wearing my beltpack in front distracts from my mid-section.
Kinda. Sorta. Not really... 

My biggest (ha!!) complaint about my body is my stomach. I have a lot of excess skin and yes, stretch marks, from my two pregnancies with 9+ pound boys. Even at my lowest post-pregnancy weight 6 years ago (the result of a nasty bout w Meniere's disease, not any particular fitness regimen) I still had the stomach flab and the stretch marks that are not just discolored but textured. Hawt, I know. And then, then I read this post. Yvonne of Joy Unexpected, a blog I have been reading for years now, wrote very eloquently about her stretch marks. About how the marks on her belly reminded her of carrying her three children in her womb. About how when she sees them she thinks of a mother's love. I was in tears reading that. Instead of hating them as flaws on a body that wasn't anywhere close to perfect before the pregnancies, I should be embracing them as trophies of my accomplishment as a mother. Trophies... like medals, like bling! Now we're talking my language!!

And Yvonne's post made me think long and hard about my acceptance of my body, flaws and all. I don't know how many situps and pushups and more miles it will take to get me to look on the outside like the athlete I feel like on the inside. I don't know that it will ever happen. I do know that I am going to continue to work out and run and later this summer, cycle and swim, and embrace the athlete inside me, even if she is wearing a body that doesn't quite fit. And the next time I see a race photographer out on course, I will smile and hook 'horns, and worry less about the outer image captured and instead celebrate the spirit of the athlete inside.