Pony Express

[feldman]

For two weeks in high school, as a favor to a friend, I joined the
track team. This is not to be confused with my ever having been a
runner.


I am not built for speed by any means. I've joked that I am built
like a Shetland
pony, which is less of a joke and more the moral of the story
where my body is concerned. Point being that no matter what ideals
are being pushed, people come in all shapes and abilities and one must
work with what one's been given. I will never look like a model or an
actress--my dad's bout with radiation and chemo put piad to the fact
that our skeletons are not sleek, they describe shapes meant to be
filled with muscle.

Going further, I will never fit into the 'healthy' BMI category, and
haven't since the year I hit menarche (13.5 years, 4'10" and roughly
120 pounds). BMI is not applicable to ponies or to grown women with a
double-D rack who are 5'1" and can carry a 270 pound man on their
back. Just across the living room, but then I haven't weight trained
in over a year, so that's the strength inherent even when living a
sedentary lifestyle. I have boobs and muscles, and am built to carry
them.

So running. For two weeks I practiced after school, running in
circles for an hour on the dirt practice track underneath the gym,
then walking a couple miles home (uphill but not through snow, I'd
quit way before then). I was not fast. I had no idea how to stretch
or even to stretch. I was a C cup bouncing in off-the-shelf
bras because it was the late 80's and even if we had the cash for
sportswear the standard uniboob option wasn't worth the effort. The
coach's idea of training was to pull me aside after a week, introduce
herself a second time, and ask me if I wanted to try shotput.

I used to regret not pursuing the other track events, because it might
have helped me keep active and healthier in my twenties. Looking back
from farther on, I'm glad I bugged out because if the coach couldn't
bother to train me to stretch before running, she'd sure as hell have
ruined my shoulders. Hell, it was before everyone carried drinks with
them all day, we didn't even have water down there.

I've always wanted to try running again. There were small moments in
those two weeks where, despite the crappy circumstances, I felt myself
going fast and I liked it. I forgot about my elbows squeezing my
jouncing rack under control, the dust in my throat, the ache in my
head and the pack of long-legged vets pulling ahead so far they came
up from behind. The still air became wind in my face and I was
fast, for a moment. I think that's why I stuck around for two
weeks. When I started exercising in my late twenties, and I saw how
"3 minutes=death" turns into "45 minutes=sweaty but refreshed" I began
to wonder, if I ran and kept running, would those moments also expand?

I've tried, a couple times. I'd get shoes and a good bra, and go out
once or twice. Unlike yoga or weights, I never felt the physical
attraction. I did shake off a lot of the mental crap from my two
weeks in high school--not being severely dehydrated and a
self-loathing teenager will work wonders for one's appreciation and
performance of a sport--but I figured walking was my speed and that
was that.

What's pushed me to try running again is time and necessity. I am not
only a pony, I am an 'easy keeper'.
My body is built for strength, for scarcity, for thriving on struggle,
and I just don't feel as good as I used to when I was exercising. I
can get small bursts of it, but nothing regular and nothing in a
sizeable chunk of time. I need something I can pick up immediately,
is intense, and gives maximum effort for time spent. Enter running.
I don't need to be fast. I just need to kick my ass in gear.

So I dusted off the Nikes from the last attempt, purchased the Grande Dame of sports
bras*, and Saturday I hit the track a few blocks from my
house. I followed the 'couch to
2k' recommendations. I warmed up and stretched, I ran the short
sides and walked the long sides of the track. I went around maybe
four times. I walked home. I did not feel like I was going to die.
I was sore all over yesterday, but pleasantly, not enough to move
slow. I was also energized, and my hunger was sharper. Not bigger,
just keener. In all, it felt like something my body needed and might
have possibly enjoyed.

I want to run again tonight. It's...weird.

*OMFG! It was like being twelve again! Yes it's like a
chest-corset, but it totally demonstrates why women would want to
strap themselves into corsets if it meant they could also get shit
done without their boobs aching or their backs breaking. When the
Cmonkey gets anything up top she's going to get a good sportsbra the
same day she gets her first regular one. I knew it was vital
equipment and I thought I loved my Champion brand bras, but I never
had one that did such a complete job before. I COULD JUMP
ROPE!!!

Comments

[monanotlisa.livejournal.com]

Funny how our build works, isn't it? I'm perfectly in the average range of weight and height at 5'7'' inches and 160 pounds, I can run well and long and like it (you're totally right; the endorphin high is wonderful, and it really helps build stamina), but at the same time, it's not what I'm made for. You know these people with runner's bodies, lean and a little hungry? Well, people like you can lift weights (and Jesus Christ, that's a LOT you can lift!), and I guess people like me can do other sports that require agility rather than strength or endurance. (I was a decent tennis player and a great skiier, though it's possible that's just because I started so early on the latter.)