Everybody ought to have a body . . .a body is the only way to go!

Posted by Heather H. | April 16, 2007 | 19 Comments

Last year I started to run for exercise. I’ve been an exerciser my whole life. As a young teenager I started doing aerobics videos with my mom and biking everywhere with my friends. During college I learned how to weight lift with my sister, enrolled in swimming, participated in an intramural aerobic/kickboxing class, and took a different type of dance class every semester. I also used to rollerblade in Provo Canyon and only crashed a couple of times and never sustained any serious injuries (if a massive road rash that didn’t heal for over a week doesn’t count as serious). After college I made time to speed walk with friends a few times a week and kept lifting weights with my husband. However, through all of that exercise I never once wanted to be a runner. I resisted running because I thought I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t believe I could get better at it. I had run for PE classes and when things required it, but it just felt so h-a-r-d! I’m not sure where this notion came from, that I couldn’t do it well or get better if I worked at it. Especially considering how much I had exercised and seen how the more you do something the better you get at it.

So last spring a girlfriend in my ward was talking about needing someone to run with her in the mornings. My son was born about eight months previously and I felt anxious to speed up the recovery process. I wanted to feel fit again, and the speed walking just wasn’t cutting it. For the first time ever I actually wanted to become a runner. I reluctantly volunteered to join her if she’d let me walk when I needed to. She agreed and seemed excited. Our first morning out I met her at the bottom of a steep hill that leads into a gorgeous park near our apartments. We set off up the hill. Halfway up I wanted to stop because, well it hurt. My heart was thumping as if it wanted to exit my chest and my lungs burned. Okay, so here’s a confession: I’m a little competitive. I looked over at my friend and could see that she was winded, but not on the verge of explosion. Only five minutes into our run and I really wanted to stop. However, for the sake of saving my pride I barreled forward. At the top of the hill the burning had become nausea and little white flashes were spurting up behind my eyes. These seemed like danger signs, so I slowed to a jog and said, “Whew, that hill sure got me. Let me just walk a minute and catch my breath.” I wanted to say, “This absolutely sucks! I should like the way I feel when I exercise, not want to fling myself into that bush!” But I kept a smile on my face and walked and waited. I waited for my heart to slow down, and I waited some more. My friend’s heart had slowed down past the point of effectiveness so she asked, “Ready to run again?” I agreed, but knew that urge to vomit would not be far off, because get this, at the top of that hill is not a down hill, or even flat ground, but another hill, granted less-steep, but an upward climb nonetheless. My heart rate climbed upward with the path until it pounded right in my throat, waiting with the throw-up for me to let it go or STOP! I would call it determination if I could, but really it was my vanity that kept me moving; I didn’t want to be embarrassed. I breathed through the pain, slowed the pace a little and made it to a stretch of flat ground. I made it up other hills and needed to walk about every ten minutes or so, but I didn’t give up. We ran a couple more times, with similar results. Sure, my progress was slow, but I felt proud; I hadn’t given up.

My friend had registered to do a 5k race in just a couple weeks time, so I signed up too thinking that I could have a goal to work toward. When I called one night to check what time we planned on running the next morning she informed me that she had arranged to go with another girl. “You can still come with us, but we’re going to run.” Apparently with the race day looming her patience for me as a partner had waned. I made up an excuse about not being able to join them as I choked back the tears. However those tears of embarrassment and hurt did not overwhelm me. I got up the next morning, chose a different path and went running. (Okay, it was jogging with some walking interspersed, like before. But I got out there and did it.) My competitive spirit got me up and out the door a few times a week and to that race. I walked for a bit of it here and there, but I finished in a not-too embarrassing time and set a goal that I would become a runner.

Now I am training to do a half-marathon (That’s 13.1 miles for those of you who don’t know and I’m waiting to see if I get picked and can register to do a full marathon this fall). The race is in three weeks and last weekend I ran 10 miles, no interspersed walking, no vomiting, and no white flashes! Burning in the legs, yes, but I am now a runner. Since the beginning of the year I have been training with this new goal in mind and over and over again I have been amazed at the body, my body, this gift that my Father in Heaven granted me at birth, never to be taken away, that I fought for and shouted for joy over. I love my body! Even with all the running I still have cellulite, curvy hips, and a flabby post-birth stomach. These are things that the media and society tell me I should hate; but I cannot hate my body. This body that runs one mile, then two, then ten is built to withstand hardship and get stronger. This body that lifts my children from their beds, pushes them on the swings, chases them through the grass is a gift. This body that knows how to read, write, and feel the Spirit will be the physical tabernacle of my spirit forever.

Our spring issue is coming on our main website and we are celebrating the body. Read it! Enjoy it! Love your body!

What is hardest for you to overcome in loving your physical body? What helps you love your body most? What do you love about your body?

Category: Liken the Journal

Comments

19 Responses to “Everybody ought to have a body . . .a body is the only way to go!”

Jennifer B.
April 16th, 2007 @ 12:32 pm

Hooray for you Heather! Your story is inspiring. I think one of the biggest obstacles to loving my body is my vanity. If I don’t fit in my clothes or have something flattering I can wear, it’s depressing. That, and not taking care of it. When I don’t eat, rest, and exercise like I should, I pay a heavy price. On the flip side, taking care of myself helps me love my body because of how good I feel. Sickness reminds me to be grateful for all that I CAN do and especially the ability to care for my family’s physical needs.

Can’t wait to read the new issue!
Angie
April 16th, 2007 @ 12:51 pm

hmm. I wish I was a little more vain. I need more exercise. I would even enjoy more exercise. But running still sounds so hard.

PS Thank you for celebrating all that our amazing bodies can do. This culture focuses entirely too much on what our bodies look like.
Cindy
April 16th, 2007 @ 12:56 pm

Wow – what eerie timing. This is a topic I was thinking about just last night.

I’ve struggled with chronic illness all my life, and especially so in the past 2-3 years. I hit my physical limits (in everything – walking, studying, moving, being awake!) a lot earlier than most people do. This weekend I’ve been moving into an apartment and getting ready to start classes; none of it’s been unusually strenuous, just a lot to get done. And yet, as the sun went down last night and I got my textbooks together to be ready for class this morning, I got sick: fever, aches, chills, exhaustion, did I mention aches?

I spent a lot of time last night berating my poor body: Why can’t you do anything right? What is wrong with you? Fifty-nine other girls in your complex have moved their stuff in and are ready to party, while you can’t even pull yourself off of your bed. And on, and on, and on. This is an ongoing struggle for me, to love my body even though its capacity for physical effort is so seemingly small.

Over the last three months, though, I have been walking 1-2 miles every day. This may not seem like a lot, but it is a huge milestone for me (especially considering that two years ago, I could hardly walk up my own front stairs!). Each morning when I am well enough to walk, I just love this body God has given me. It may be more limited than some, but it sure works hard, and it really is able to do so many things. It’s a continual effort, to love my body, but I’m getting there.
Sharlee
April 16th, 2007 @ 1:09 pm

I spent 12 hours on the road this past weekend with two other women (on our way to and from a pioneer trek training seminar at Martin’s Cove in Wyoming). Inevitably (remember, three women/12 hours), our conversation turned to our bodies.

“If I can lose 40 pounds, I’m going to get a boob job,” confessed the one who was driving.

“See, and what I’d want is reduction surgery,” I countered.

“I’ve always hated being so flat,” said the driver.

“And I’ve always hated being so busty,” said I.

“Not me!” piped up the third from the back seat. “I’m perfect.”

We all laughed because it sounded so braggy and also, I suppose, because, really, she’s NOT perfect–at least not according to the standards of our modern society.

“I know that sounds funny,” she continued. “But, really, I love my body and I’m happy just the way I am.”

In an instant, she became my new hero.

So few women feel that way. Even my 5’9″, 115 pound ex-model friend can always find something about her body to be dissatisfied with.

And it’s a shame. It really is.

I loved this post, Heather. Yes, our bodies are a gift. Let’s celebrate them!
Justine
April 16th, 2007 @ 1:16 pm

I am a runner.

It took me a long time to accept those words as part of my vocabulary, but I, too, have embraced them, and have come to a new peace with my body.

No longer do I feel like I am fighting my body for health and energy. For me, running isn’t about vanity or physical appearance. I run for physical and emotional health. I am a better mother/wife/person when I am running. I have more energy, get sick less often, and have a generally better outlook on my whole dang life when I am on the move.

(plus I don’t feel so bad about eating cookies when I know I’ve “paid” for it already…)

Heather, good luck on your race! I’m doing a quickie 5K in two weeks. I may hit a 10K this summer, but I haven’t found the courage to do a half marathon yet! Bravo! We should run together this summer when you come out (you’d probably totally school me…).
Kristen
April 16th, 2007 @ 1:41 pm

What marathon are you hoping to run? I’m so jealous! I love running but I’m on leave, I guess you would say.

Unless someone out there (yes, Justine, that includes you) can give me some advice on how I can get out the door. My situation is that my 9 month old can’t come with me (no jogging stroller), and my husband is doing this crazy phd program so he’s gone fairly early…and after dark I just plain don’t feel comfortable going out.

Maybe I should get up at the crack of dawn and go. Is that what you all do with your kids?

Great post, Heather.
Justine
April 16th, 2007 @ 1:46 pm

Kristin, I go at 5:30. Sad to say, but it\’s true — pitch black darkness, my running friend and I, panting and huffing through the night.

It\’s gotten tons easier than it was when we first started.

You can do it!
Amber
April 16th, 2007 @ 2:00 pm

I’d like to try a half marathon next summer- post baby- but a marathon is not even in my future. And I’m ok with that. I’m ok with my body- most of the time- if I could just stay at home. I struggle more when I’m out in public around “everyone else” and then I start to be bad to myself. I’m a work in progress.
Emily
April 16th, 2007 @ 2:50 pm

Congratulations, Heather! I’m really impressed. I used to be a runner, but the race T-shirts weren’t as cool as I thought they would be. Maybe that’s because I never got past 5K’s. Now I just run to pick up my kids from school and the little rush in those 5 blocks sometimes turns my mind to my running days.

You go girl!
Justine
April 16th, 2007 @ 3:45 pm

Amber, sooo true! I’m totally comfortable in my skin, right up until I go to Costco, and wonder who on earth fits into size 0 anything, and why aren’t I one of those people?

Dumb, dumb, dumb. Even as I think it, I know it’s dumb. It feels so very “teenager” of me. But I don’t do it as much when I’m regularly running or doing other active stuff. When I feel my best is when I’m trying my hardest.

Woah, Heather! Gospels principles abound in this discussion…
Heather H
April 16th, 2007 @ 10:10 pm

Thanks for sharing everyone and for all of your encouragement. Justine, you’re on for a run when I come to Utah this summer, and know that I will not totally school you because I will be coming from near sea level to the oxygen deprived mountainous heights.

Kristen, I’m hoping to get in for the ING New York City Marathon. They have a lottery that they draw in June and then the race is in November. They say about half of all the applicants within the US get in, so I’m hoping. We’ll see. If I don’t get in for that I may try to come and do a marathon in Utah with my little brother, though the altitude thing does worry me a bit. I often do go early, before the kids wake up/before my husband leaves for work. But I also have a couple of friends who help me out with my kids. One I sometimes swap with, which isn’t as fun as actually running together, but at least we get it done. The others just love my kids, so they come and hang out with them sometimes on Saturdays. (They’re single and childless so it’s easier to entice them.) And Justine is right, it does get easier. Not easy, but easier.

Anyway, the gospel principles do abound! Isn’t it amazing that if/when we are doing our best and recognizing it, we have peace, confidence, gratitude? But when we start listening and looking around at what others are doing or how they appear in their size 0 jeans (I have a friend who is a size 2 and she’s tiny, so I’m not sure what a size 0 person would look like . . .)we start to feel anxious, discouraged, and upset.

And Sharlee, that experience you shared reminds me of a time I was shopping for a swimsuit in Hawaii. The owner of the store was this woman in her late 40′s, maybe early 50′s, totally tan and casual, like you’d imagine a Hawaiian Howlie to be. All of the swim suits in the store were arranged by size. So it wasn’t this, Oh I like that, but gee it only goes to a 6.” But you went to your size section and there were tons of choices. She stood there and helped you choose and made suggestions and then led you to a very private dressing room where you had enough light to actually see and a full mirror to really get a good idea. She didn’t pressure or push, but just helped and it was the most fun I’d ever had trying to buy a swim suit. I told her so at the end while I paid and she said, “Yeah, it’s been my mission to try and help women love their bodies, no matter what. Americans are the worst. People come in here from all over the world and I rarely hear any of them complain about flabby thighs or too big of a butt. They just want to be comfortable. So I tried to design this store in a way that wouldn’t make anyone feel like less, like they had to be a certain way. We’re all different and that’s what makes us beautiful.”

Amen surfer sister! And to Cindy and others who are dealing with illness, it is so difficult. Sometimes when I have the flu or a cold or when I can’t eat anything for several weeks at the beginning of my pregnancies I become so annoyed at my body. I’m not always good at loving this body either. But I do try to be the glass half-full person, be grateful, like President Monson repeatedly teaches us. I find that really helps. It sounds like that’s what you do Cindy, you are grateful you can go for a walk on certain days, or it’s like Heather B. has shared with us about her chronic illness, thinking about how to use your forks that day.

Anyway, we do begin to die the day we are born, like the article “Consider Your Navel” talks about. I think the challenges our bodies go through are part of what makes the hope of a perfect resurrected body such a joy.
Heather H
April 16th, 2007 @ 10:11 pm

PS, didn’t mean to write another post after my post . . .
Emily M.
April 16th, 2007 @ 11:10 pm

I am figuring out my body; I’ve never been much of an exerciser, and (of course) it has caught up with me. I do work out now (go Curves!), but it’s not where I would like to be.

I love, love, love, the new Tabernacles issue of Segullah. Many thanks to all who worked to make it possible.
Michelle
April 17th, 2007 @ 3:07 am

I so miss running. Can’t now, ever again, due to degenerative disc disease. Hard deal. Congrats to all of you who are doing ANYTHING to exercise. Running doesn’t have to be the only way to triumph and care for our bodies, ya know? (Sometimes I feel a bit like a lesser person because I can’t say “I am a runner” and I think it’s important that we love ourselves more than that, and rejoice in what we can do and/or are striving to do…that for any of you who might be feeling a bit ashamed for not being a runner. Or am I the only one who has ever felt that competitiveness creep up a bit?)
Hether H
April 17th, 2007 @ 8:38 am

Of course don’t be ashamed! Just be glad and celebrate whatever you can do, you’re so right Michelle.

Also I just want to clarify about my friend who started out as my partner. She never told me she was fed up with me or that she wouldn’t be patient with me, I just perceived that due to my own insecurities and fear that I really couldn’t do it. She is a fabulously fantastic person!
Michelle
April 17th, 2007 @ 2:35 pm

Heather,
Just so you know, I wasn’t addressing anyone in particular. I just know that there is this part of me somewhere that feels inadequate because I can’t run anymore. There is a symbolic bigness about running, precisely because it is hard. And I wonder if anyone else who can’t/doesn’t run feels that way. You know, you don’t get much respect for walking a marathon.

Incidentally, I swore I would never run, so I could relate a bit to your story. It’s cool when you find yourself doing something you never dreamed you could, and even loving it!
Heather O.
April 17th, 2007 @ 3:54 pm

Running with a partner is the only way to go. Your vanity can take you much farther than your own will .

I too went from pretty much no exercise to running an 8 mile race in about 4 months. I was amazed, AMAZED at what my body could do. My running partner, who has been a physical fitness professional forever, kept telling me I would get results, but when you are trying to stay focused on getting air into your lungs and not passing out, the results seem pretty far away. And yet, they come. What a gift.

I unfortunately do not know how much longer my body will let me do things like run 8 miles, or do the triathlon that is ultimately my goal. I have a progressive kidney disease that may make exercise a thing of the past, and with that in mind, I am determined to get everything out of my body I can before it quits (literally!). Like I said, I was amazed it gave me so much so soon. It’s like I’ve been walking around with this tremendous power, and have never tapped into it. Nothing like a life threatening disease to get your butt in gear, eh?

Thanks for the post.
Blog Segullah » Pats on the back!
October 1st, 2007 @ 12:11 pm

[...] the post I wrote last Spring about becoming a runner I talked about some of what challenging my body and self and then succeeding has given me. As I [...]
jack parler
April 15th, 2009 @ 9:35 pm

Just grabbed the feed… thanks for posting this.