When I was a kid, I hated P.E.

We’re all conditioned to make snap judgments. It’s in our DNA. When we were in cave-times, it was part of survival. We still do it, as intelligent and evolved as we’re supposed to be. Even when we know the surface doesn’t tell the entire story.

I also hated prints, loud colors, hairspray and anything with a waistband. The early 90s were not kind.

When I was young, prior to high school, I was skinny, shy, not incredibly popular and liked to draw, write music and read books. I was a good student, but a daydreamer. Any issues I had in class were usually due to lack of focus because I was making up stories in my head instead of paying attention when a subject started to bore me. I was always picked last for any athletic competition in P.E., which enhanced my ‘otherness’ and became just another vehicle for kids to pick on me. 

I liked running because I loved the Black Stallion books. The Black Stallion was the fastest horse ever and he loved to run. I wanted to be him. I would gallop around the playground as fast as I could go. This did nothing for my popularity and I eventually started ‘running like a human’ just to avoid ridicule. But it did instill in me an enjoyment for running. 

A turning point for me was when I came home once and my parents asked me how school was and I said glumly that there was going to be a Field Day on Friday and it was going to be horrible. They asked why it would be horrible. I said because I was going to be last place in everything and everyone would just make fun of me more. They said that this wasn’t true and asked what kinds of events were going to be in the Field Day. I told them the ones I remembered, which were a sack race, a three-legged race and an egg on a spoon race. So we practiced. 

They gave me an egg and a spoon and I practiced carrying it around the backyard at increasing speeds. They gave me one of their pillowcases and I learned that the key to the sack race was to hold the sack up high and jump with your feet together. My dad tied my mom’s leg to mine with one of my mom’s scarves and I learned to coordinate legs by counting two (the separate legs) one (the legs tied together). Two, one, two, one, two, one. 

I made it to the state social studies fair when I was in fifth grade. It was all about horse racing.

When I got to the Field Day, I sailed through the Sack Race, coming in an easy first place. The three-legged race was going great until my giggling partner collapsed, but we still ended up pulling off second place. I even came in first place in the egg race. They gave us actual ribbons for each event, so I brought home two blue ribbons and one red one. My first ever awards. I think it was then that I decided to put a little more effort into P.E.

Angry at once again being chosen last for kickball, I stood last in line to kick and watched the other kids. I watched what some of them did well and where some of them went wrong. When it was my turn, I took out my frustration on the ball and made it to first base. At the end of the year awards ceremony, I was given “Most Improved in P.E.”

This is from when I finally made the track team in 8th grade. They always put me last in the relay because I would kill myself to pass whoever was in front of me.

From then on, it was hit and miss with me and sports. I had an abysmal girls’ soccer tryout in junior high because my name was first on the list, so they had me go first, and I kept daydreaming during the instructions and then had no idea what they wanted me to do with the ball. I did better in track tryouts, but apparently my times were not good enough and I didn’t make the cut in 7th grade. Soccer was disappointing, track was devastating, and I remember crying when I read that I had been cut. 

However, the high school cross country coach decided he wanted more freshmen to try out for cross country, so he came over to the junior high and started an experimental team. Eight boys and one girl (me!) signed up. Thus I started getting some actual training and improving. I made track that year also. I lettered in cross country and track all four years of high school. I was still a geek. I still did theatre and yearbook and music and honors classes. I just also ran.

This is what I was wearing when she told me I needed better arms.

In high school I double-majored in theatre and mass communication. I still ran because I liked it and I got into the weight room for the first time because I had a boyfriend who liked going to the gym and lifting weights. At LSU there were separate male and female weight areas so I was able to be much less self-conscious and just take turns on the machines.

It wasn’t until much later in life that I started using weights with any intention. I had an agent audition and the agency decided to represent me. The agent immediately told me that I needed to do something about my arms to get them more toned. I was taking martial arts classes at the time and regularly punching things, so I was surprised, but I said okay.

I had a friend, also in martial arts, who was a physical therapist and he gave me a weight routine. I hated it at first, but I did it twice a week. Before I saw physical changes, I began to notice changes in my martial arts practice. I was able to grip and hold more easily in grappling. I was able to give back more resistance holding pads without fatiguing. Etc.

When I started fighting competitively, my diet changed. I never enjoyed cooking and I also didn’t ever have the money to eat out regularly. So I ate a lot of sandwiches, canned food and incredibly simple salads. But suddenly, I had to make weight and have the energy to train harder than I’d ever trained. I had always thought I tried to eat healthy, but that’s when I intentionally started educating myself. Gradually my diet cleaned up.

I had taken a month off running, doctor’s orders, before this race. (Which I was experimentally cleared to run.) I hated how I looked and felt here. I forced my hands up, the smile, pulled in my stomach, for the photo, knowing that things weren’t going as planned with my leg. This was only the beginning of a season-long hiatus from running. (Also, I wasn’t used to running without my shirt, it was tucked into my bra behind.)

I made a day-job switch because I loved teaching martial arts. Gradually I became a full-time fitness instructor. Then I added yoga certifications, cycling, barre, health coaching and personal training. I don’t think many people realize how competitive and costly it is to teach fitness. There are hours of continuing education for every certification usually every two years per certification. It’s great if you love to learn, but it all costs money. This isn’t the point of the article, but it’s something that I felt compelled to give information on.

Fitness gets harder as you get older. Your body changes, your hormones change, life changes, etc. Things that always worked don’t work anymore. Your body processes nutrients differently, and you have to relearn things. I’ve been doing that, and it’s hard, and it’s worth it to me.

One of the worst things you can say to someone who is in shape is “you have such a good metabolism” or “I wish I had your metabolism.” 

Yes, some people have naturally wonderful metabolisms. I am not one of these people. My DNA test said my metabolism is ‘average’ and also explicitly stated that the height and weight that I had reported must be due to lifestyle choices. I was not naturally athletic, I was not a prodigy. I wasn’t good enough for any college teams, and the only reason I was on the higher end of average on my high school teams is because I worked hard.

I still work very hard, and make decisions every day that affect the way I look. And I work among a lot of people who do the same. I also work among people who haven’t chosen this life and that’s fine too: it’s your life and your body. But you would never look at a larger person and just say, “You know, sometimes I just want to sit around and eat all day, too.” 

I was probably at my most out of shape here. The pandemic was two months in. I had just moved. We had just recovered from a tornado. I had been laid off of three jobs. Furloughed from one and then brought back on five days later and my 16 year old cat, whom I had lived with since he was 4 months old, was dying. I still ran every day, but I would break down sobbing in the middle of my runs. I was still lifting weights three times a week and trying desperately to host online fitness classes to make up for the loss of income. I still weighed more than ever because of the stress and lack of sleep. You just never know.

At least I hope that you wouldn’t say that. It would be horribly judgmental and assumptive. I mean, perhaps they DO just eat all day and that’s their choice, but also perhaps they’re on medication, they’re injured, they’re a caretaker and have no time to themselves. The list goes on and on.

So why is it okay to look at someone who’s fit and say, “I wish I had your metabolism?” It assumes that they’ve made no choices or sacrifices to live in the body that they live in. I’m sure that it’s meant to be a compliment. But what if someday I decide I don’t want to fight it so hard anymore? What if I decide that I don’t want to lift weights three times a week and run every day? What if I decide getting up at 5am to workout before work isn’t for me? Or what if I get injured or ill and physically can’t do it anymore? And I gain weight?

What will the comments be then? “She used to be so in shape, she’s really let herself go.” “Wonder what happened to her, wasn’t she a fitness instructor?”

I could talk for a long time about how we judge people immediately upon several factors by looking at them, but this post is already lengthy. I will say that I know a lot of it is societal conditioning. We’re conditioned to like thinner, younger, more symmetrical bodies. We’ve also been conditioned to judge women’s bodies much more than men’s. I can’t unpack all of the ways that we judge each other right now. I will say that it takes conscious effort to stop. So, I challenge you to make a conscious effort.

If working in the fitness industry for over a decade has taught me anything, it’s that every person has their own reasons for the way they’re living in their body, and they’re almost never what you think.