the torture below

I have this theory.

We talk big.  “My worth is MORE than my appearance”.  But society tells us that IS NOT TRUE.  Appearance and worth are sadly tied, and until society changes the rules and the collective media comes to its senses, we have to live with it.

My Identity is tied so firmly to My Run, that when I'm run-less, I start to question everything.
Even things that are unquestionable.

I think that many many women are blind and only see what they think they see.  And they’re deaf, and can only hear what they think they know.   And sometimes they’re surrounded by thick dark impenetrable evil that cloaks the world.  The view from behind the darkness is distorted and false. 

For example, one of my friends is particularly stunning.  She has a laugh that’s like champagne and a smile that’s lovely.  But the reason that men stop what they’re doing to stare “inconspicuously” as she walks through a room is probably not champagne and smile related.  She seems to have no idea that her legs are the kind of legs people dream about, and yeah, I mean that how it sounded.

Another friend is so pretty that the first time I saw her photo I had to draw her.  Her beauty is classic.   Fresh, blond, fair, and tall, it's no wonder my son has a crush on her.  She’s athletic and strong.  Sometimes I hear doubt from her.  DOUBT?  WTF?  Why does someone who looks like you doubt her beauty?

Come to think of it, most of my friends seem to have no idea what they look like.  One or two realize they’re beautiful and either don’t seem to care (“I’m worth more than my looks”) or just roll with it (“I consider it a public service”). 

The rest see the worst, the flaws, the imaginary fat, the thick thighs, and the childhood scars.  They see what I never even notice, or what doesn’t exist.  They have no clue what they really look like. 

I wonder:  Do I have any idea what I look like?

Probably. Not. 

I caught myself in the mirror the other day and thought, “I’m ugly.”  It was a passing thought, but I didn’t bother to banish it.  For some reason, it rang of truth. 

I pulled a fleece over my head, put my hood up and went to the gym where I destroyed myself in the pool. 

Ragged breathing was all I could hear as I churned in the dark water.  Then when I could scarcely breathe, I ripped the gay purple visor off my head, abruptly breaking the bubble gum Britney and Fergalious feed,  I snapped a pair of black goggles into place.  I raked my body down the pool and back again for a few hundred meters, punishing myself with brutal speed.  My arms ached, crying for mercy, but I had none.

I kept thinking about how ugly I am.  That I am unwanted.  I am impossible. 

I don’t know; it was just a thought that wouldn’t go away.  Nothing could break through the shadows.  The lifeguard sat witness, blessedly unaware of the torture below the surface.

I soaked in the pain, ignoring the fire in my lungs and swallowed back the iron I tasted as I sucked in the chlorine laced air.   Recover, breathe, catch, kick, pull.  The rhythm served as punctuation.

I might be ugly, but at least I. can. f*cking. swim.

An hour later I could barely pull my weary body over the side onto the cold floor.  Clutching my towel to my chest, I stumbled toward the locker room.  Pink hands that were too tired to adjust the nozzle of the shower turned a knob, and my skin was pricked by water that quickly grew too hot.

Ah, the torture continued.

It was when I went to dry myself that I realized I must be possessed.  The still trembling leg I was drying was not fat.  It was muscular and curvy.  A quick inspection of myself revealed what I was beginning to suspect. 

I am not a Victoria’s Secret model.  Thank f*ck.  Imagine the stress that goes with that gig.

I am real.  I will never get fired for aging.  And not one part of me should be berated or punished the way I punished myself because I am real.

I have seen photos.  I know on film that I am not completely unfortunate looking.  WHY did I suddenly look in the mirror and NOT BELIEVE? 

The answer is simple. 

I am blind.  I only see what I EXPECT to see.

I AM DEAF, and only hear what I think I already know.

And when I say women are surrounded in evil, tell me friends, what would make my beautiful friends think they are anything less than exquisite? 

The darkness needs to go.

Next time that your friend tells you “you are the hottest mom ever”, see the honesty in the message and believe that you are THE HOTTEST MOM EVER.  When your husband , wife, brother, sister, guy or girlfriend says, “You are stunning”, I hope you will listen with your mind open to hear the truth of the message.

And I hope you will pay it forward.  Share the message with the beautiful people in your life.

You never know if the message you send, or comment you make, will be the light that breaks through and illuminates a path for someone who’s drowning in the darkness.

Gear CHECK - Slogging

When you leave home to go for a run, you probably really only NEED a few things.  A good bra if you need one, a light if it's dark out, tall socks… hell it seems like shoes are even optional these days.  Oh, maybe a watch.

Slogging requires a bit more crap gear.

Slogging = Sucktastic Pool Jogging.

It might suck, but it is HARD if you do it right, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that if I did this all the time (which would be expensive as it would require a lobotomy and or a therapist and quite possibly daily medication) I would be SUPER fit.

1 shuffle iPod + plastic wrap + a little packing tape =
water resistant iPod shuffle.  I don't recommend using
your son's, like I did, because his taste in music is ... not
the same as my taste in music.

Anyway, after 1 week of slogging I’ve learned a few things.  When packing your gym bag, be sure to bring the following with you:

1)  A visor with an up grade – one of Those People took mercy on me the other day and gave me a hint on how to get my iTunes Rolling in the Deep end of the pool.  

“My loneliness is killing me… I must confess I still believe….”  

Yeah, trust me, when you’re slogging, these lyrics start to look down right Genius.  Of course, Interpol’s No I in Threesome is pretty genius too… for other reasons though. 

2)  Belt it Out – I tried “pool running” without floatation this summer.  Um.  You know what?  You need the floaty belty thingy so you can concentrate on form and counting.  Yes, counting.  I track my cadence in the pool, just as I do on land.  Ok, thats not true.  On land I don’t have to think about it.  But in the pool, I sometimes count to check it.  And frequent heart rate checks are another way counting AND the belt come in handy.  

3)  Intervals  - DON’T LEAVE HOME WITHOUT THEM.  They will SAVE YOUR LIFE.  I'm serious.  They serve as a way to break up the time blocks into bite sized pieces so you don’t choke to death.  Additionally, watching the clock gives you something to look at… other than the lifeguard who is pretending not to be looking at you like you’re insane.  Accidentally making eye contact with the lifeguard is to be avoided at all costs.  

Now, true, at some pools staring at the lifeguard could constitute a full body contact sport.  In my case, however, that’s not a plan.  At all.  I’m way better to stare at the clock and see that I have 1:30 left in my interval.  The other day I did 3X 5 min at Tempo.  But equally good is 1min Tempo/1 min recovery jog for 10 – 15 minutes.  Or today I did 1:30 Tempo with a 30 second recovery for 10 minutes and seriously, the 10 minutes vanished.  Speaking of eyes…

I googled "image sweat"
and got this, and...
you're welcome.

4)  Gonna Make You Sweat – I have it on good authority that if you have sweat dripping into your eyes, you’re doing it right.  So make sure you bring it to the pool.  And you might want to bring your water bottle too.  

5)  BRICK HOUSE – I found this UBER intense brick workout online.  It would be too much for the (novice) pool runner slogger like me, but it did give me some ideas.  I do some slogging broken up by swim sprints.  Or, some swimming broken up by Tempo slogging.  It's been a great way to make the slogging more appealing to me, a fairly strong swimmer.

…. I guess maybe "Properly Fitting Swim Suit" should be on this Gear List somewhere, huh?  I’m sure that as the weeks go on I will be able to add to this list.  Who knows what mental state I’ll be in by next Thursday.  Xanax could make the list...

Ok I'm kidding.  I find slogging weirdly satisfying.

As long as I am sweating and in a little discomfort I’m OK in the pool.  Okay, in a “If I can’t be outside doing what I really love to do” kind of way.  But then again, I’m the kind of stupid who thinks running 26.2 miles is fun… so I must really like being miserable.