I'm Good Enough, I'm Thtrong Enough...& Gosh Darnit, People Like Me!

Ever have one of those days? I can't remember where I read that this sculpture is, but I think I could stare at it for hours, feeling self-conscious and waving my hand in front of its face every once in a while. It's thought provoking, and I knew I wanted to use it in a post at some point, but I couldn't figure out how until today. It has a lot of impact and speaks volumes about whatever subject you could conceive, but I think it would be entirely different and more specific had the sculptor decided to form a woman. I relate to it in that everyone, but especially women in this society are ruled by shame. There are no set standards today because we have come to believe that 'there's always room for improvement.' Whether it be our bodies, our eating habits, our spirituality, our careers, our possessions or lack thereof, we are never good enough.
I went out for a run yesterday after work. In theory it would be a wonderful, life-affirming, calming and energizing endeavor. The weather was beautiful, my training regimen left room for just a short, peaceful jog, and I had great music on my iPod. As I started, though, I realized I wasn't falling into my natural stride within a few meters as usual, my legs felt heavy and unruly, and worst of all, my shorts kept getting shorter, and shorter, and shorter. Let the floodgates of negativity fall open as they may, and damned if I didn't make myself miserable thinking of how much potential this run had, and how disappointing I was that I couldn't reproduce the gloriously fast and easy 5-miler of two days prior. I heard myself saying I was probably grossing out innocent bystanders with my jiggly thighs sticking out of my ever-shorter spandex shorts, that I was weak, and out of shape, and would never be able to reach any sort of potential, let alone feel good about race participation. And those group rides I was thinking about joining? The masters swim meetings and jogging clubs? They'd laugh at me and wonder how I could think I deserved to even show up with their elite selves.
But wait a minute. How far did I just run? Two miles. How far did I used to run? Oh, yeah-a mile might as well have been a marathon. And how much exercise have I done this week? Two-a-days three days in a row, including one kick-ass weight lifting session? And how many calories have I been meticulously counting out every day? A measly 1200 while burning half that in a couple of hours everyday?! I wonder why I'm EXHAUSTED? I mentally stepped out of my body, turned toward myself and slapped the 'poor me' look off my silly face. If my best friends ever talked to me the way I do I'd never talk to them again. So I shut myself up, enjoyed the rest of the walk home on a truly beautiful evening (it's about freakin' time), popped open a hard cider that had been hiding in the back of the fridge (oooh-extra calories! Gasp!) and sat outside like a normal person, taking in the world and not obsessing about my next workout, the numbers on the scale, the calories in my next meal, or even what needed to get done in the house. When I finally came inside and walked past the mirror I noticed that my former self would have killed for these muscly thighs, and that in fact skin alone jiggles, if one bounces enough. I decided, too, that I deserved those creepy but somehow still a little flattering catcalls I got from a car full of guys speeding past me as I crossed an alley.
So I think I'll wake up early one Sunday morning soon and head down to the women's ride I heard about, and I know there's a cheap jogging club around town somewhere. I think I'll take my own advice for a minute and be good to myself. I may want to improve, but a bad day or two does not a failure make. Sadly, I knew that this blog would be an appropriate place to air these frustrations because I know I'm not alone in these feelings. We're all too hard on ourselves. Go be a good friend to #1.