Elis Bradshaw last wrote for The Toast about accidentally taking boudoir photos with her mom.
Some lucky women are born athletes. I have a friend who runs like a gazelle and transforms into a porpoise when she goes swimming. I am not one of those women, not by a long shot.
I spent the first twenty years of my life with my nose planted in a book and my body planted on a chair. In seventh grade I tried to branch out by joining my school’s volleyball team (no tryouts required). I think I played in one game during the whole season, badly. The next year I went back to the Spelling Bee team.
It never occurred to me that I might want to be an athlete until college, when I started dating a major bicycle enthusiast. A few months into our courtship, he borrowed a friend’s bike and took me out for a ride. It was awful. I was uncomfortable, terrible at it, and finished the ride in tears, so mortified by my performance that I insisted on riding again and again and again, until I felt like I’d redeemed myself from my less-than-stellar first try.
My primary motivation to ride was to reach some undefined ability that would be “good enough” and absolve me of my humiliating introduction to the sport, but at some point I began to enjoy riding for its own sake: conquering new hills, going downhill faster and faster, riding increasingly long distances. After two years I still didn’t feel like a good enough cyclist to forgive myself for not being a prodigy, so I decided to increase the pressure. I entered a race.
My first race went about as well as that initial ride. All thirty competitors in my race passed me during the neutral roll-out (neutral! We weren’t even racing yet!), then the motorcycle referee, then the car that followed the race in case any rider got a flat tire, until I was alone on the road before the race officially began. I cried with shame all the way home, and true-to-form I decided I would keep racing until I made up for the embarassment.
In a few years I managed to claw my way up to the professional level on hard work and a steadfast refusal to take no for an answer. (Interestingly, I found that most of the time it was my own voice telling me no. No, you don’t have enough time to train as much as you need to. No, you’re not lean enough to make it over that hill with the group. No, you aren’t good enough yet; be better.) I raced against current and former national champions and Olympians. Sometimes I made them wear a set of fake panda bear ears for a running gag I had on my blog. Somewhere along the line I realized that I’d become something I never expected to be: an athlete.
Bike racing took over my life well before I knew what was happening. Once I started racing, ten hours a week on the bike was an easy week; a long one was closer to twenty. Meanwhile I was working forty hours a week, reading everything I could find about how to maximize my training, and doing as little as possible when I was off the bike, “to save my legs.” I timed my meals to replenish my muscle glycogen without putting on new muscle and reducing my power-to-weight ratio; it’s a gravity-based sport, after all. I declined invitations to social events that conflicted with my training (most of them did) and skipped out on my family after my grandfather’s funeral for a race. I had never expected to become an athlete, but once I saw myself that way it became the cornerstone of my identity. I couldn’t imagine myself not being one.
Unfortunately, I had to do more than imagine it. In 2011, after nearly a decade of racing, my heart gave out. This is not a figure of speech: I developed a condition that made my heart rate shoot up to 300 beats a minute whenever I rode my bike, even lightly around the block. The accompanying dizziness first made it unsafe for me to race, and then to ride at all. In the space of a few weeks, the identity that I’d spent years building was gone. Where I’d been a bike racer, an athlete, a person with purpose, suddenly I wasn’t, and I wasn’t very sure of who I was without those things.
I’d frequently pretend to brush off the significance of the sport in my life—oh, it’s not a big deal, it’s just a thing I do—but without it I was lost. I had hours to fill that I’d previously used for training; years of declined invitations meant I’d lost touch with most of my non-racing friends, and many of my racer friends couldn’t really spare time for me off of the bike. (A few of them did, and they are the friends I will keep forever.) Most importantly, I didn’t know my own value anymore. Without competitors, I could only try to beat myself. I was still desperate to redeem myself, but my body had betrayed and abandoned me so I had no way to get there.
It took a year to adjust to life without a training plan and a race calendar. One full year to understand that I didn’t have to earn things that gave me joy, through a good result or a long ride, and to stop punishing myself for the things I couldn’t do anymore. It took another year before I could trust my body again and consider a new kind of physical activity. Cycling was out of the question; my bike was too heavy with disappointment.
I spent some time bumming around from one “try our facility!” special offer to another, which is where I took a Muay Thai class and felt a spark. It was similar to the way I’d felt about bike racing when I was doing well, but I didn’t have to win to feel good about it. Without the external pressure I was quick to fall in love and relish the quick gains you only get when you’re starting from rock bottom.
I’ve spent the last year learning how to be an athlete again, with much more awareness about the process than I had the first time. And I’ve realized that when I was training twenty hours a week and pouring resources into equipment, coaching, and race entry fees, arguably the most fit I will be in my life, I was rarely happy about it. I was too busy comparing myself everyone else to celebrate the goals I achieved. Physically I was going through all the right motions, but my driving force was not love of sport, it was a nagging sense of inadequacy and the fear that I would never be good enough to redeem my rocky start. Not even winning was enough, because I measured my success by all the women who hadn’t raced that day, absent competitors who could have beaten me.
It is impossible to feel good about your development or achievements when you’re looking so far outside of yourself. And while I’m glad I raced for so long, because it was often fun, I met some wonderful people, and I learned a lot, I can’t say that I miss it.
Like bike racing, Muay Thai has not come easy to me, but this time that’s okay. It hasn’t made the major off-the-couch changes to my body that cycling did, but it has made drastic changes to my mind. It is making me into the athlete I thought I was for all those years, one whose strength is rooted inside and measured by my own improvement instead of another person’s results. I still have bad days, and they’re just as frustrating as they were before, but because my point of reference is my own previous performance the disappointment doesn’t linger. When I have an off day, I’m all but guaranteed to be better next time.
Since I started practicing Muay Thai, I’ve taken my bike on a few tentative rides, and it doesn’t taunt me anymore with the goals I didn’t reach. It just glides along the road, not quite as fast as it used to, but not so slow either. Not that it matters anymore how fast I go. Good day, bad day, win, or lose: I feel like an athlete again, this time for good.
When I had knee surgery and couldn’t run, play soccer, rock climb or snowboard for two years, it was traumatic and it was mainly the sudden isolation more than the pain. Most of my friends at that time had no idea how to relate to someone who didn’t do the things that they did, and they were always gone on weekend trips. Now it’s weird to go back to doing the things I like to do and realize that there are a LOT more things to talk about and think about than sports.
It is wild to think about how much of your life these things can take over, and I definitely love having space for more activities (and people)! Glad you’re healed from your surgery.
Glad to hear you’ve found a replacement for biking! Muay Thai sounds like fun, and there’s all those Tony Jaa movies to gawk at!
As someone who’s also coming into physical activity the slow, hard way, this was a fantastic read. Take care of your heart and your brain–it sounds like you’re doing both. Thanks!
The beginning is also the exciting part, because the improvements feel so dramatic. I love that part! 🙂 Enjoy!
This was wonderful! I keep trying to say exactly why I enjoyed it so much but words fail me. I’ll leave it to somebody else to fill in my blank.
Thank you!
You’re very welcome! For the record, I also enjoyed your “boudoir photo with Mom”, too. Maybe it’s the blend of self-deprecatory wit, wryness and general “I did good and so can you” tone that speaks to me; either way, you’re a totally talented writer!
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That is so kind and awesome to hear! Thank you. 🙂
This speaks to me in so many ways right now. It is so true that you get to a point where your life is training. Even when you aren’t training, you’re thinking about training and (it sounds like in your case and mine) blogging about training. So when you have to take a step back from your sport, you lose this huge part of the identity and social group you’ve built. I really think it is something akin to having a death in the family.
Congrats on passing through the worst of the grief and finding some comfort on the other side.
I really think it is something akin to having a death in the family.
I am SO GLAD to read that. I feel like I went through a divorce in regards to my own exercise (not a death, because there’s still a chance that me and mine can be friends again someday), but the loss, anger, and grief is so harsh. I was beginning to think my reaction to my own exercise loss was ridiculous and extreme. It’s such a relief to hear others feel the same way.
Totally. Losing a community that I’d invested a LOT of my time and energy into (far more than I go into here) was the most devastating part. On the plus side I had an easy way of figuring out who cared about me as much as I cared about them, and I’m SO grateful for that.
Oh my gosh thank you SO MUCH.
I recently had to give up weightlifting (my first and so far ONLY athletic love). I feel like I’ve gone through a divorce. I don’t want to do any other exercise, simply because none of them are My True Love Weightlifting. I’ve been letting myself grieve (on the couch. with coconut-milk ice cream. and ST:TOS DVDs) for a month, now, and it’s time to at least get myself out there again, even if I don’t really feel up to dating anyone seriously yet. I’ve signed up for a tai chi class, I’m looking at a local bouldering/climbing facility, and my Beloved is going to give me one-on-one boxing lessons. But I’m not thrilled to be doing any of them. Not yet.
This article couldn’t have been better written or better timed for me. Thank you thank you thank you.
You are welcome! And I’m so sorry! Don’t rush it — it might take longer than you expect but you’ll find something that moves you again. If you are anything like me you will LOVE BOXING because HITTING THINGS FEELS AWESOME. Seriously.
Also, they won’t tell you this and you’ll feel like a weirdo but it’s completely normal to giggle when you first start punching people in the face.
We’ve played around with boxing before, but I didn’t feel confident doing it on my own with the heavy bag. Also my wrists would give out before anything else did. But we’re getting sparring pads and that will make things much more interesting!
The danger with sparring pads is not that your partner will hit you in the face, but rather that you will flinch and hit yourself in the face. Says the girl who has swole her own nose.
On the plus side, you look and feel like a badass. My dude won’t touch ’em. 😉 Have fun!!
Ha ha ha ha! Oh man, I’m sorry about your nose. The Beloved went to Olympic tryouts for TKD back in the day, so I think he’ll be fine. And I’ve been in enough friendly brawls not to fear being hit in the face (as I mentioned in a comment above, we’re kind of violent people). I will certainly keep that advice in mind, though. NO FLINCHING!
I’ve been there! I had to give up my One True Love too! I’ve finally found other loves, and I love them less deeply it’s true, but my life is more balanced. I also started a punk band and that has been an amazing journey of firsts! Life does go on, I promise!
SO INTENSE/good for you/ there is a categorical difference between people who are like “oh, I’m not so good at this. meh.” and folks that are like “I’m not so good at this I WILL PUSH MYSELF UNTIL I SUCCEED.”
I have been moderately athletic for most of my life, but have been always fallen on the “I did it” side of the fence and have never managed to scare up the motivation to try to get better at things, I find that really interesting in other people.
To be honest, I was always the latter type until I found bikes. I’d be fine at some hobby (music, photography, writing), then get to the point where I’d need to put in hard work to get to the next level and just find something new to pick up and be okay at. I think maybe it took finding something that I was so humiliatingly bad at and also deeply motivated to be not bad at (to impress cyclist boyfriend) to flip the switch. And now that it’s flipped I can’t really turn it off.
Except with running. Ugh, running.
“After two years I still didn’t feel like a good enough cyclist to forgive myself for not being a prodigy”
Oh god, this made me cringe a little cringe of recognition. I know this feel (not about athletics, but about EVERYTHING ELSE), yes I do.
That feel is a mean feel…
I think that phrase “After two years I still didn’t feel like a good enough ____ to forgive myself…so I decided to increase the pressure” might describe my entire life. Not in a funny way, like in a crying way. I’m constantly raising the bar on myself, and it is never, never, never satisfying. Elis, what words or phrases do you tell yourself in order to take the pressure off? I really want to be in that place of forgiveness.
It really helped me to give myself permission to just not have to be good at something. I sort of figured this out in undergrad- I was killing myself with my academic stuff, so when it came to judo I just made a deal with myself- I had to keep going (for health, sanity, etc.), but I never had to actually be good at it. I’m definitely not naturally talented (and omfg the learning curve…I’ve spent years working on things before they finally clicked), but I also just don’t have the time/ mental space/ energy for the kind of effort it would take to be really, really good. Those things are limited resources that I put other places.
Also, it turns out that if you consistently put in some effort (not all your effort, but just what you can spare) you do eventually get better at things. Slowly, sure, but hey- it’s not like there’s a deadline for being really good at your third tier interest.
Oh, honey, I’m so sorry you’re there. That’s not a pleasant spot. The only mantra I’ve discovered that actually cuts through my inner critic voice is “I don’t negotiate with terrorists.” That shuts it down. I felt silly at first, but the ability to remove the blaming, nagging, not good enough voice was worth it.
I hope that helps. Big hugs.
That’s pretty great actually. Like, it’s simultaneously acknowledging the power of the thought and refusing to give it power. It’s been a rough week/year/decade–thanks for helping me feel less alone in this. I’m also seeing a good therapist, thank God. She’s been telling me to “walk lightly” this week which also sort of weirdly helps.)
Oh wow, this hit just a little too close to home. (Except for the whole “being able to find a new sport and things slowly getting better” part, anyway.) Expresses everything I’ve wanted to but couldn’t. Thank you!
You’re welcome. I hope that soon those other parts will hit close to home, too!
Totally enjoyed reading this. I think it’s a side of being an athlete that isn’t written about that often — what happens when you have to stop before you choose to?
Also, I’m pretty sure we’ve met somewhere along the way maybe. Or at least, I recognize your name from bikes. Rad you’ve found a new thing to fire your passion.
Hi, Jen! We have mutual friends but I don’t think we ever actually met. I love reading your stuff!
The “before you choose to” is a really hard thing. Honestly, I’d been fairly sure I only had a couple seasons left in me, but I was flying and I wanted to go out on top, so ironically being probably near the end made it that much harder to be forced out. It’s definitely something we should talk about more, I think.
Right! You could totally see what you could accomplish, and wanted to leave this amazing signature at the end of your story, but then, didn’t get to. That’s brutal.
The world is small, especially when there are bikes involved. Also, thanks 🙂
This speaks to me in a slightly different way. I’ve had friends drop me for the sport that they got super-into, and man, it sucks. If anything, it’s made me more suspicious of people who are super excited about athletics, because I’ve never had a friend who’s really excited about, I don’t know, theater or urban farming or other hobby drop me like a hot potato, but it’s happened a couple of times with the intense athletes. Perhaps this is too harsh, but it really made me lose respect for them.
Hmm. Apparently I have some anger I have not yet processed? Ha.
On behalf of all those friends, let me apologize.
I’ve been dropped by people for children,work, and photography hobbies, but not much else. I think it’s acceptable to drop out for art or money, but sports are painted as a particularly selfish pursuit AND they can take up ridiculous amounts of time, so they get an especially bad rap. I don’t think it’s too harsh to lose respect, because it’s possible to maintain relationships while you’re pursuing your sport (for my part, I chose to do that by keeping up email and text correspondence vs going out dancing), and if folks just flat dropped you, that royally sucks.
How is your heart doing these days???
I can’t imagine 300bpm with cycling. For about two years, mine went up to 180-190bpm with very little exertion, which was terrifying and horrible and it started just as I was challenging myself to get into shape. Luckily, it seems to have settled down, at least the stupid tachycardia episodes upon standing or being too hot haven’t been as bad. I was dreading having to deal with it for the rest of my life, but 300bpm!!!! sooo much sympathy there, and I hope it was a temporary thing like mine, or that you have medications that are actually helping with it (nothing did much for me).
My heart is fine now, thanks! I had atrial fibrillation and atrial flutter, which they corrected through two catheter ablations. My max HR had been pretty high before then (206), but it was disconcerting to go from zone 2 (about 130bpm) straight to 300. Not. Normal.
I’m glad yours was temporary! That stuff is scary.
Really interesting piece. I’ve been a runner for 11 years, which is half of my entire life. Sometimes I get scared thinking about the day when I won’t be able to run anymore. Most of my self-esteem is tied up in the fact that I am An Accomplished Runner with Strong Muscles (a concept that I created for myself in order to avoid placing all of my self-worth in my appearance, and to banish the specter of disordered eating), so if that were taken away from me, I don’t know what I would do.
I like to think that if I were able to choose the end for myself, I would have been okay with it. However, looking back I really just wish I’d had a contingency plan for the moment shit hit the fan.
Totally hear you on the strong muscles thing. It’s really only in the last three months that I’ve finally accepted my body type as “strong” vs. some description of appearance.
I hear ya on the idea of the body as strong — the idea of what it can do as opposed to how it looks. I so embrace that, and I also am not sure how I’d reorder my mind if what I could do changed drastically.
“…. I was rarely happy about it. I was too busy comparing myself everyone else to celebrate the goals I achieved.”
Well said about cycling. I feel like this is actually the attitude most cyclists had (have), including myself, in this sport. Like you, it’s refreshing to have moved on. It may have not been easy but once you’re there the feeling is sweet. I can’t imagine going back to the road! Good for you.
Good thing there’s mountains! 😉
Oh, thank you so much for sharing this. My heart broke for you at the top of page 2 and I’m so glad you found Muay Thai and it’s working out for you. I was the chubby bookworm who swam, who got into running, then biking, and now I’m a triathlete with a half Iron under my race belt. Not super competitive except with myself, but I get in a few races a year. I broke my ankle this spring, and even just 8 weeks of “Who am I, if I can’t be active and do what I love?? What am I, if I’m just sitting on this couch all day?” was agony.
Congrats on finding a sport, finding peace, and eloquently communicating both.
Thank you! I like to think it’s easier to stop when you’re in control of the stopping…at least I hope so. I hope your post-break races go well!
Thank you so much for writing and sharing this article. What a relief to hear that you’ve come out the other side and you are feeling good about it. I have been a rugby player for ten years, and interspersed with that I’ve been a cyclist, long-distance runner, a CrossFit devotee, and a recreational soccer player. I was always surprised and pleased to find myself decent or even good at these sports. This year, my body is just falling apart — my neck, my back, my wrist, my foot — not too surprising after ten years of a contact sport. I miss the sport and more than anything, I miss being part of a team. I tell myself that I can’t know now what will fill the time that I now have in my week, the time I used to spend training, playing, and partying with the team, and I do believe it will be something good, but it’s hard not to know now. Thanks again for such an inspiring article, it gives me a glimmer of hope!
That is SO hard, I’m sorry you’re going through it! Definitely keep as much hope as you can while you’re letting yourself grieve. Hugs!
Yay, congrats! I'm not sure if you saw the comment I posted apparently the same minute you posted, but I have a letter of things that can be helpful to know as a beginning rider that I'd be happy to share if you're interested. Or blaze your own awesome path! : ) If you'd like it, feel free to email me at my first name my last name at gmail.
Happy riding!
Thank you! I like to think it's easier to stop when you're in control of the stopping…at least I hope so. I hope your post-break races go well!
That is SO hard, I'm sorry you're going through it! Definitely keep as much hope as you can while you're letting yourself grieve. Hugs!
YES. A a child I was forever relegated to Wing Defence in netball, being picked last for tee-ball, and sulking my way through Health Hustle*. I kind of did actually want to play sports but as a supposed chubster it was always assumed by PE teachers that I’d be terrible at it so I just gave up bothering. If I had been a boy I am certain people would have said “What a big strong lad! Why don’t you come join the under 10s rugby team?”
Then 20 years of nothing. Oh, I went to the odd yoga or bellydance class and walked a lot but nothing Sporty. Then suddenly, roller derby. And it also seemed as if nearly every woman my age discovered cycling, roller derby or Couch to 5K all at once. I know it’s a terrible cliche for a 30something fat white lady with dyed black hair and a tattoo to be all roller derby but screw those people who mock. It’s fun. I like the people in my league. I get to skate around and hit sweaty people and have enormous quads. Also I have a bicycle but you’re not generally allowed to hit people with it.
I’m not that great a skater, it doesn’t come naturally, and sometimes all those memories of being dismissed by sporty people threaten to overwhelm me with self-doubt. One reason I keep going besides that it’s fun is that every fresh meat intake, there’s always one or two larger women who come along who’ve also been told Fat People Don’t Sport and it’s all very well to see some lithe young thing swanning around the track but seeing someone as big or even bigger than you doing it is reassuring. At least that’s what I thought when I first turned up and saw someone my shape and size thundering around the track. Same with the cycling. I’m more of a riding-a-hipster-mixte-in-a-dress rider than go-fast-in-lycra though. Anyway that’s my anecdote.
*Health Hustle involved teachers selecting the popular girls to lead whole-school aerobics to such hits as Aga Doo.
“it’s all very well to see some lithe young thing swanning around the track but seeing someone as big or even bigger than you doing it is reassuring.”
YES. Having an example you can relate to is so important. Rad that you’re doing derby! I’d kind of always thought that would be my next thing after cycling, but then the plans all went haywire.
And absolutely, screw those who mock. They just wish they were in possession of that much awesome.
Great post. The following is not a reflection on what the author has experienced. Her post made me think of my own situation. This is an open apology to anyone who was ever hurt by a smug, uber-driven athlete who was dismissive of their efforts and achievements knowingly or not. Cluelessness about normal physical activity and sleep didn’t mean I had to be a jerk about it. If you ever hoped a person like that would be taught a harsh lesson, yep I got what some would say was deserved. Frankly It’s a tad foggy, a coma rewired my brain. I do know Intense crazy workouts were most of my life back then, and I’m still an ass about some other stuff so yeah, I probably merited a slap down. The icing on the revenge cake is that I got fat (but am losing it since I stopped eating icing). I’ve long forgiven my former self. However, to anyone that it might mean something to, I am sorry for hurting you, no one deserves that.
have a lot of feelings about this. i too own more workout pants than real pants and feel completely unmoored when i cannot train (i’m a muay thai fighter – leaving a gym where you were for years is like ending a serious committed relationship!). but also i reflect on all i’ve given up to do this at a certain level, as it is time consuming. had to a take break for a knee injury this year and just hurt my way through that whole series of months. reading this article and the comments is making me think i need to reflect on who i would be or how i would generate a self-concept if i had to do it without the sport.
Holy moley, Elis did this article speak to me! I raced bikes – road, mountain, and ‘cross for 15+ years (mid-pack at best) and left the sport a few years ago to spend more time on other things (like relationships with non-racers!). I miss the racing side of the sport and the fitness levels of the good ol’ days – and it took me awhile to find my bearings – but I’m very happy “on the other side”. The last bit of your article sums it up perfectly…”It just glides along the road, not quite as fast as it used to, but not so slow either. Not that it matters anymore how fast I go.” Thank you and if you ever visit PA and want to spin the pedals, let me know! 🙂
"it's all very well to see some lithe young thing swanning around the track but seeing someone as big or even bigger than you doing it is reassuring."
YES. Having an example you can relate to is so important. Rad that you're doing derby! I'd kind of always thought that would be my next thing after cycling, but then the plans all went haywire.
And absolutely, screw those who mock. They just wish they were in possession of that much awesome.