my body, myself (confessional #2)

i have a new bike. her name is millie. 100-mile millie to be exact, because i am going to take her on a 100-mile bike ride in one day less than one month (panic now). this is all incredibly significant to me, and i am going to tell you why.

i have never loved my body. now, before anyone panics, i should also say that i have never hated my body, either. and i have certainly never done anything on purpose to harm it. in fact, i am a total wimp and avoid the risk of physical harm pretty much all the time. what i mean to say is that i have never really loved my body in the sense that i have never really trusted my body to do anything, and i have certainly never counted on it to do anything well. i think i have the classic always-picked-last-in-elementary-school-gym-class syndrome, which becomes nothing but a self-fulfilling prophecy in adulthood. the thought of doing anything physical-- running, water skiing, biking, playing soccer-- and particularly the thought of doing anything physical in front of other people who could, and most certainly will, judge me, fills me with insurmountable dread and self-doubt. for basically my entire life, i have avoided it at all costs.

this information often comes as a shock because i have a generally fit-looking body. i am, if you will, lean. and this, believe it or not (though i hope you do), poses a set of unique challenges. in our body and thinness-obsessed culture, i think we often make the assumption that skinny=happy. we assume that people who are thin must not worry about the appearance of their bodies at all. and that is simply not the case. i have felt just as much as any other woman that my body is unattractive and undesirable. i have worried just as much about what people think of how i look in a pair of shorts or a bathing suit. but because my body happens to look a certain way, i have often felt those insecurities were invalidated. this is not meant as a "pity me" moment. we all have insecurities. that is all i am trying to say.

i have also learned that we make assumptions about people based on the way their bodies look, most of which are mistaken. for example, i believe there are people who are just physically intuitive, who can pick up a basketball or put on some hiking shoes or hop in a kayak and just know what to do and do it well. i am not one of those people. (me+basketball=endless hilarity and/or serious injury to myself and others.) but i think i am often mistaken for one of those people because my body looks a certain way. i have often felt that people who are physically active and intuitive, but who do not look that way, resent this, or rather, me. i have a very clear memory of a girl in one of my college women's studies classes tearing up when she told us that she couldn't go to her senior prom because she couldn't find a dress that fit, even though she could run a mile faster than any other girl in her class. this still breaks my heart, and i agree that it is supremely unfair. but hate the thing, not the person. you know? as it happens, i myself resented this body-based tendency to assume for a long time, i think because it only made me more aware of things i couldn't do, but felt for some reason like i should.

needless to say, my experience is not unique and the purpose of this post is not to fish for some kind of assurance or pity, but merely to open a small window into life experience, which is what this blogging thing is all about, right? and the point i am really trying to get around to is that i started the process of tackling this issue head-on, which is what brought millie, and so much more, into my life.

the fact of the matter is, my body is exactly that: mine. mine to shape and to mold and to love and to take care of, or not. there is not much i can do about what my body looks like, but there is a lot i can do about what my body itself can do, what it can accomplish. in her book "reviving ophelia," the psychologist mary pipher talks about how important it is for girls to see their bodies not as decorative but as functional. functional! and when my body is functioning well, when it is riding a bike for 100 miles or getting up on water skis for the first time, it always looks better to me. it is easy to love my body when my body is doing.

the transition probably began last spring, when sallee and i started training for our first century (that would be 100 miles, people. i want to be clear about that) bike ride. we talked a lot as we rode up and down canyons and around and around parks about why we were doing this crazy thing. the answer? because we could. because it was empowering and invigorating and incomparable to teach our bodies to do something new, to help them do something hard, to look in the face of years of insecurity and doubt and to laugh. and then speed away towards something better. we rode 100 miles on our bikes! (and i totally dropped the f-bomb when we were done.) it was, quite literally, something i never thought i would do. and it felt oh-so-good. (it was also something that i, quite literally, swore i would never do again. millie and my completely sore, um, saddle, prove otherwise.)

i felt like the circle was complete, or getting closer, when i walked through the front door the other day in jogging clothes, sweating, carrying a yoga mat under one arm and millie under the other. it seemed, frankly, strange. was this me? well, yes. it was me. a new me. a me doing my best to become a better me. my old always-picked-last-in-elementary-school-gym-class insecurities are still there. i still get a pit in my stomach when someone suggests a hike or a game of ultimate frisbee. i still refuse to run with other people. i still beg not to be judged or left behind. the difference? when i am done worrying, when i am done begging, i do.