Some thoughts on Bodies

Joy here…I was raised on a healthy dose of second wave feminism, the kind of feminism that was angry and frustrated, and my coming of age was shaped by the 1980s where feminism's face was that of Margaret Thatcher, the first woman PM of Britain.  My notions of what it meant to be empowered as a girl and young woman were formed by notions that feminism demanded some pretty sharp binaries:  smart OR pretty.

And it was pretty clear that a body was something that any self-respecting woman hated as she minimized its effect on her life.  There were no conversations about PMS having any effect on one's day-to-day life; tears were a definite no-no (as were pretty much all emotions); and the refrain from "Anything you can do" was to be taken as a guiding principle in my young life.

In those formative years, I saw that in order to be a woman worthy of note, one must not concern oneself with physically, including make up or hairdos.  My mom made sure that it was ingrained in me that pedicures and manicures were the luxuries of women with nothing else going on in their lives, or that leaving the house without a stitch of makeup on was a mark of her strong character (and in no way related to how hectic life must have been raising 4 kids).

Without knowing it, I was steeped in a Platonic duality that kept the body and mind separate, with the body being always and eternally inferior to what was going on in my mind.

So as I grew up, if you happened to say I looked good, you were likely to get a dirty look; and if I knew you well, I might even add on a shrill lecture to go with my dirty look.  As I got older, if you were dating me and made the mistake of telling me that I looked sexy, you were likely to get a nasty tongue lashing rather than an erotic tongue licking for your mistake.

Attention to bodies (mine or anyone else's) made me very uncomfortable.

And this all the while growing up with a guilty love of Barbies.

Please, mom, can I get a Barbie????

My mom, however, had a strict Barbie embargo; she wasn't letting one of those body dysfunctional things in our house!  So, of course, whenever denied something, that something becomes even more important and significant, as as a youngster I longed for and dreamed about Barbies, until my aunt bought me my one and only Barbie.  To my seven-year old eyes, when she married my uncle, she looked just like a Barbie (and to her credit, some 30 years on, I think she's still pretty much Barbie's dead ringer), and I certainly didn't (and don't) think any less of her for it.

But in my feminist desires to eschew screwed up body imagery that surrounds us in everyday media; in my so-called emancipated notion that my brain is what counts and my body can be relegated to second-class status; and in my willingness to equate self-love with shallow superficiality, I have forgotten that my body (and anyone else's for that matter) is this amazing tool, one intimately connected to one's spirit and mind.

The ever-talented Jennifer Lawrence playing
Katniss Everdeen.

As I've been out there hitting every single workout as planned over this last week, I've refound that connection between my body and the rest of me.  I've re-reminded myself that through sport I have to face my demons - my fear of failure, my willingness to be self-destructive - and overcome them.  I've also had to realize that my body is truly amazing.  It is strong; it is capable.

Let me rephrase that:  I am strong; I am capable.

A recent New York Times article lamenting the dearth of female action heroes identified Katniss (the character) and Jennifer Lawrence (the actress) from The Hunger Games as being potentially "transformative" in our culture:  "both princess and tomboy, glamorous and earthly, gorgeous and wickedly talented."

Perhaps one of the lessons that I need to embrace on this journey with sport is that I really can have it all, be it all, and do it all.  My body is not the enemy.

2008...

…5 years later, 2013.

That's me…that's my body; and I don't have to hate it in order to respect myself!  

Over and out, 

Joy

Top Ten Random Thoughts

Joy here…After what seems like (and probably is) months and months of having the worst training record that I've had in years and years, I am starting to get back into the swing of things.  First,
it was wonderful to run a 10km race through the ruins at Angkor Wat in Cambodia at the start of December.  It was my first 10km race in over 3 years, and it was my first running race since May 2011.  This race reminded me of all the things that I enjoy about running:  sure there's the fitness and feeling like I'm doing something good for my health, but for me, someone who has spent and continues to spend a lot of time living up in her head, I enjoy the contemplative nature of running.

The face of contemplation that hangs above
my bed in my home in Ottawa.

So as I've gotten back into a consistent workout routine (so far…fingers crossed that I keep it up!!!), I'm able to be a bit more contemplative.  I hit my strength training sessions twice per week, got out there and ran and rode my bike, and have been able to be a bit more contemplative of late as a result.

As 2013 draws to its close, (in no particular order) here is a random top-10 list of some of the things that I've thought about while out there running and cycling:

1.)  The older you get, the dumber you realize you are.
2.)  Being a grown up is really really hard work.
3.)  Living life is not about reaching a certain level and then maintaining it, but about always striving for more.
4.)  Having few really good friends is better than having many not-so-good friends.
5.)  Keep a safe distance between you and toxic people in your life.
6.)  Often silence is better than a pointed rebuttal.
7.)  Don't let the choices other people make in their life have any bearing whatsoever on the choices you make in yours.
8.)  Don't try to change people, but be open to letting them change you.
9.)  Don't look backwards.
10.)  It's almost always better to smile than to punch (even if punching is what you really, really, really want to do!).

The original face that inspired the painting in my home.
From Bayon Temple, Cambodia.

I hope you enjoy the random collection of thoughts that give you a little window into the many things that whirl and swirl in my head as I do my best to hit my workouts and get myself back to where I want to be, so that I can start 2014 the right way!

Over and out,
Joy

Race Report: 10kms at Angkor Wat

The five towers of Angkor Wat rising to the sky.

Joy here…At 4am we awoke to the darkness of a Siem Reap night, the frogs and crickets chirping outside our hotel door, but the birds not singing yet.  The temperature was, in a word, perfect.  It was warm, but with a coolish breeze, and as we got ready for our breakfast with the other pre-dawn runners staying at our hotel the excitement of the upcoming running race through the UNESCO World Heritage site of Angkor Wat was palatable.

Angkor Wat is the largest religious temple in the world, and its construction was completed in the early 12th Century, but still so very little is known about the Khmer empire of the day.  Some of the best information about life under the Khmer rulers is gleaned from Chinese written sources of the day; other information can be interpreted through the kilometres of stone carvings that detail life and religion that meant something to the builders that scholars today can only make their best academic guesses at.

Me and The Man in our tuk tuk on our way to the race.

So as we hopped into our tuk tuk - an open air seat towed by a motorcycle that is the main mode of transportation for the many tourists in and around Siem Reap, the closest city to the many Khmer temples, of which Angkor Wat is the crown jewel - and headed out to the temple site where our race was to be held, we were thrilled to be part of this mass of people - over 7,000 runners - all getting to experience running through a once-in-a-life-time setting, still shrouded in mystery and religious aura.

The roads were lined with other tuk tuks carrying eager runners, each with their number pinned to their shirt, and we could see a never-ending line of headlights spreading the 5kms from the town to the temple site.

Runners gathering as the sun rises.

We were only running 10kms, and we were terribly unprepared and undertrained for our run, but as we drew ever-closer to the site, the glistening waters of the moat appearing out of the darkness and reflecting our headlights back to us, we didn't care at all about how well or poorly we might run.  Instead, we started to get caught up in the vibe.

We arrived at Angkor Wat with the thousands of other runners and their supporters, and we watched the sun rise up over the temple before half-heartedly swinging our legs and trying to warm up.  I, of course, had to spend nearly 30 minutes in a line up to use the bathroom.

With my bladder finally emptied, we made our way over to the start line and jostled our way close to the front.

Ready…set…go!!!

My running coach (who must be super duper annoyed at me lately for my lackadaisical attitude towards training these days), had told me in advance that his main intention was for me to run this race conservatively and get faster as it went on.  He said he didn't care if I had to walk at the start, I wasn't allowed to go too fast.  So as the gun went off and the shouts and cheers roared all around us as the runners headed out away from Angkor Wat towards and through the entrance of Angkor Thom, the ancient king's city and by Bayon, the glorious temple carved with amazing and contemplative faces, I aimed to keep my pace no quicker than a conservative 6min/km.

Runners entering the ancient city of
Angkor Thom.

It was harder than you might think.

Even though I'm undoubtedly out of shape and unused to running.  I was getting caught up in the moment.  People were running all around me, and before I knew it, I was running at 5:51min/km.  I did my best to stay no faster than that and watched as The Man ran away from me, finding his own pace and rhythm as I tried to stay slow and steady (he would eventually finish 3 minutes ahead of me).

I had forgotten the wonderful sense of community that you can experience in the middle of a running race.  People surround you, and they all have a similar goal to run their best, to achieve something, to prove something to themselves or to someone else, and a sense of happiness and camaraderie emerges as people cheer each other on, pat each other on the back and generally send out goodwill to the world.

People around me inspire me in a running race.  I see the old people out there running at their own pace as the tropical sun beats down on us, and I smile.  I see the kids running with their parents, and I think of what a gift fitness is for a parent to give a child.  I ran by a man whose lower leg had been blown off by one of the land mines that still plagues the Cambodian countryside, and I almost cried.  And all of this I was feeling as the stone work of a lost civilization rose up around me, inspiring me further.  As humans we have such capacity for greatness - creativity, physical feats, endurance, artistry, compassion - but it is so easy to crush and trample those things under the more powerful forces of greed and animosity.

If seeing that doesn't inspire you,
then nothing will!

So as I ran, I let the good vibes wash through me.  These endorphins (sometimes considered the runners' high) made me enjoy my run.  I still kept my pace as slow as I could until the turn around point by Bayon.

Then I felt strong, despite a bit of a weird shoulder cramp, but I wasn't sure how much faster I should push it.

I mean, I was flush on the success of holding back for the first 5kms, but then I wasn't sure how much I should speed up for the second 5kms.  I knew that I shouldn't just run like gusto, otherwise I'd find myself running out of gas and walking in no time.  So I built my speed up to 5:44min/km and decided to keep it there for a while, figuring that I could speed up a bit more closer to the finish line.

By the time I ran past the 6km marker, I looked at my watch and knew that even if I ran the remaining 4kms at a 6min/km pace, I would still finish in less than 1 hour of running, I was satisfied.  Even though I didn't have high hopes for this race, I still had the notion in the back of my mind that I wanted to run in less than an hour.

The 5km turn around point at Bayon.

Feeling that my goal was within reach, I ran by one of the volunteers, grabbed the bottle of water he held out to me, and dumped it over myself.  I was already sweaty, and at each water station, I drank some and doused myself with some, remembering my last half marathon 2 years ago that I ran in Singapore under similar temperature conditions.

Action shot of me in motion at
around the 6km point in the race
when I started to know I'd finish
in less than an hour (my
conservative goal for this race)

As I neared the 8km marker, I started to think that I should pick up my pace and run the last 2kms as fast as I could.  But pacing is an odd thing to moderate sometimes.  I seem to have only two speeds:  fast and slow.  "Slow" I can last for hours and hours, and "fast" I only have about 50m before I collapse.  So I wasn't sure exactly what to do, and in over-thinking, I ended up going rather conservatively.  Only when I turned the corner to see the finish-line just around the corner from me did I really open up and run; I was almost sprinting, and felt like I could have run like that forever.  I felt strong and fast, and I was annoyed that the finish line was so soon, because I wanted to just keep on running and running into the morning sunlight with the cheers and excitement all around me and the temple of Angkor Wat rising behind my back as I ran on into infinity.

But, of course, I stopped.

I got my finisher's medal and my post-race banana.  I belatedly remembered to turn off my watch timer so that I could check my running data afterwards.

And even though this is my slowest 10km race (and only my 3rd ever), it is my first running race in just over 3 years, and so I feel a sense of accomplishment in finishing it within the time that I set for myself.

More than that, I feel the excitement of racing, and I've re-remembered the fun and enjoyment that I get out of racing, so I'm going to sit down with my computer and find some other races in 2014 to sign up for.

Because, baby, I'm back!

That's me sprinting to the finish line!

Over and out,
Joy

Race Stats:
I ran a total of 10km in 57:21 with an average pace of 5:45min/km, placing 40 out of 865 women competitors.  Most importantly, I ran the first 5km in 29:11, which means I ran the second 5km in 28:10, faster than the first 5km.  I also know that I had more juice in my legs at the end, because in the final 70m or so, I was running a 3:45min/km pace and my max speed at the end was 2:42min/km; so that tells me that I could have/should have run that second 5kms much faster.  So there's always next time! :)

Siem Reap, Cambodia

Angkor Wat rising into a sky threatening rain.

Joy here…Back when The Man and I first had our great idea to relocate from Canada to Malaysia for the 2013-2014 academic year, I looked around to find some fitness goals for us to sign up for.  One of our friends (Lulu, who gave us a guest post here about learning how to run) told me about this amazing half marathon through the UNESCO protected heritage site of Angkor Wat, an amazing Khmer empire temple just outside of Siem Reap, Cambodia.  So I looked online for this race, and I was happy to discover that they offer a 10km version, not just the half marathon.  I wasn't sure what my fitness would be like by early December, and I just didn't think I could commit to 1/2 marathon training at the moment.

Turns out I was right.

Our glorious hotel pool, as photographed from our equally
glorious hotel pool-side bar!

I've barely hit any of my running workouts, and have been hanging on to my fitness by the skin of my teeth.

But December approached, our tickets were booked, our race registered, and our hotel reserved, so off to Cambodia we went.

We stayed at an amazing hotel - The Shinta Mani, which I would highly recommend - and in between touring some of the amazing temple sites (with our own English-speaking guide and driver), sampling unbelievable cuisine, and generally relaxing in the beautiful setting, we also headed out the door one day to do a little run, figuring that we should at least loosen up our legs a little bit before the big race day!

Out for an early morning jog by the canal.

A canal wends its way through the tree-lined streets of Siem Reap where bicycles, motorcycles, and tuk tuks outnumber cars, and where cafes and shops open up to offer busy passersby anything from textiles to wood carvings to jewelry to food.  The air is scented with spice and lemongrass and sometimes something that I can only describe as the wetness of the jungle, this latter scent arises especially in the quiet of the dawn hour.

As we ran along the canal, making our way between the massive tree roots that dislodge and disgorge the stones from the pathway, much like at Angkor Wat and the other temples that lie in different states of ruin amidst the jungle that has grown up and around them over the centuries since their abandonment, people stared at us and watched us unashamed of the obviousness of their gaze.

A view of Ankgor Wat from the other side, as the rain
clouds blow away to reveal a brilliant blue sky.

Our run was around 30 minutes:  We weren't in shape; we weren't running fast; we weren't even conscious of training; we were just soaking up the beauty of this town that boasts some of the most amazing archaeological and architectural marvels that the world has to offer.

The view of the canal (and across) from the colonial terrace
of the FCC (Foreign Correspondents Club), which was once
the French governor's mansion.

It's hard to resist the temptation to wax philosophical about the tragic history of Cambodia - not just its colonialization by the Thais and French and its genocidal suffering under Pol Pot's regime, but also its current under-development, sex-trafficking, and exploitation - or to pontificate as an essentialist on the resilience and optimism of the Cambodian people, but I generally tend to loathe people who travel to other places and then write about their experiences as though their few days somewhere have made them deep and insightful experts about the plight or experiences of people undeniably "other," so I won't claim to have any new or important insights about Cambodia, although, you can be sure my mind is bubbling over with my own reflections on visiting Siem Reap.

I will, however, urge you to get yourself there to develop your own thoughts and feelings.

And if it takes something like a running race to get you there, well, then all the better for it.

Over and out,
Joy

I'm a Leader not a Follower

Joy here…I've been trying to get into the habit of heading out on Saturdays and Sundays to ride my bike up a 15km climb nearby; on a good day it takes me around 54minutes to complete the climb, and on a bad day it takes me around 58minutes.  One of the women who I've met on this bike ride has a Personal Best time up the hill of 49:30, and some people take over 2 or even 3 hours to complete the climb.

I usually ride with The Man, but sometimes some other friends join us.  And I've learned something important about myself on these rides.

I'm a leader not a follower.

What I mean is that, when someone races past me (or us), going full-steam ahead, The Man is often motivated to chase them down.  When someone better at something - even something non cycling related - appears in his sights, it is his habit to pursue them and do what it takes to be able to improve so that he can be competitive.  It is a trait that I certainly admire in him.

It is a trait I don't have.

My bike stats for today's ride.

You see, when someone rides past me going fast, my automatic response is "good for you!"  Often I'll cheer someone on, or give them encouragement.  And when The Man urges me to chase them down, I find that I actually ride slower than when I just ride at my own pace.

And when am I fastest?

It's not when I'm chasing someone, and it's not even when I'm just riding along without any goals (as I mention in this blog post that I don't do well without clear goals).  In fact, I ride fastest when I think someone is chasing me.

Are you the one who chases, or are you the one
who is chased?

I first noticed this last summer when I was riding in the park in Ottawa and the group of male cyclists gave me a head start, and I expected them to breathe down my neck at any moment; when, in fact, it took them a good, long time to catch up to me.  And then a couple of weeks ago, we started ahead of some other friends of ours, and the whole time I expected them to catch up with me, but they never did.  Today, The Man had to complete a Time Trial up the climb, and so we only rode together for about 10 minutes, and then he headed back down to the bottom to do his warm up and then ride hard to the top.  I expected him to come roaring past me at any moment.  And before I knew it, I was at the top of the climb and hadn't been caught.  I finished in 53:49, a new PB for me.

I don't know what's the psychology behind chasing or being chased, but I'm becoming more and more comfortable with the fact, that I'll do much better if I feel like I'm being chased than if I have to get out there and chase someone else.  I think, in life, there are chasers and those who are chased.

And I suspect that this is a life lesson for me, not just an insight of how to get the best cycling performance out.

Now what exactly that life lesson is, I don't quite know…but surely it's something deep and insightful, right?

Over and out,
Joy

Mad Sally Goes Pee

Joy here…Last week, as many of you will have read, I had a very near miss with a poisonous Malaysian coral snake (a lovely orange specimen that I wish I didn't see quite so close up).  Well, this week I found myself out there riding the same route, up the 15km climb, and needing a pee break by the side of the road once again.

Filled with fear, I lay my bike down in the grass and stepped forward into the foliage, and this is what happened:

-----Mad Sally Goes Pee-----
Out there under the sun on my bike,

A road bike, not a motorcycle or a trike, 

I suddenly felt the need to pee.
"Oh no," I thought, "can it really be?

I went potty just before leaving,
Surely I don't need to be relieving

Myself so soon!"  But of course,
I couldn't hold it, couldn't force

Myself to just keep riding
Without first heading and hiding

In the bushes so that this Mad Sally
Could find a spot to go pee.

Last time I found a bush
And bared my tush

I stepped on a deadly snake.
The mere memory made me quake.

So what was I to do?
(At least I didn't have to poo!)

I decided to be bold.
For that pee I couldn't hold!

I went to the very same spot
That last week was so fraught.

I stomped all around
Scanned the entire, leafy ground.

Sure that I was in the clear
I showed the jungle my rear,

And felt some relief
And came to no grief.

The snakes stayed hidden,

Both banished and forbidden

As I did the dirty deed
With the very utmost of speed.

So I conquered my fear
As no snakes came near.

But I'm still going to try
To not be the weird guy

That everyone sees
Every time that she pees!

I sure would like it a lot
If I could find a convenient pee pot!
-----THE END-----

So it turns out that I was able to overcome my fears of snakes lurking in my specific peeing spot, but it would be even better if there were toilets somewhere that I could use.  I mean, at the spot where we park the car at the start of the ride, guys just line up on the side of the road and let 'er rip.  And all along the 15km climb up to the top of the hill, guys are able to pull over to the side and just stand there and pee.  It's only girls who have to wander into the jungle.

Oh well…wish me better luck tomorrow so that I'm able to hold it in for the whole bike ride…

Over and out,
Joy

From each according to his/her ability...

Joy here…If you read this blog, then it'll be no surprise to you that I'm having a hard time committing to my running goals and objectives.  And as I was out there doing a 5km run today, I was thinking about that.  My last running race was in 2011, and I quit my job as a professor in 2011.  I've felt a little bit at sea since then; sure I've done lots of things - I took up bike racing; I launched a consulting firm; I moved to Malaysia; I co-founded a series of kids books - but I've not felt the same focus and drive that I've been used to.

Don't get me wrong, there's no way you could persuade me to be a prof again, but I haven't yet fully hit on the next thing that I'll be stuck into for 5 years or so as a challenge.

And as I ran around and around and around the 500m loop in my neighbourhood, I couldn't help but think about that desire for challenge…or about motivation to be more precise.

You see, I think that I'm a very goal oriented person.  Set me a finish-line, and I'll run my little heart out for it.  But in the absence of that finish-line, I'm liable to put my feet up on the coffee table and take a bit of a break.

In fact, one of the things that led to leave academia was the lack of goals and objectives.  You see, once you actually become a prof there are no more finish-lines, especially if your Chair sits you down and says (as mine did), "You have enough published now for tenure, so don't worry about that."  Professional academia is a place where the pursuit of knowledge and excellence are ends in and of themselves.

I think for some athletes, sport is an end in and of itself.

It leads me to think of that oft-quoted maxim from Marx: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs."  You see, anyone who has done any graduate-level humanities work will be familiar with Marxism to some degree.  Academics seem unable to resist the siren call of socialism; it's easy to see why:  what's so bad about envisioning a world where everyone is equal and the unjust methods of wealth distribution are abolished?  It sounds positively utopian.

The glitch for me isn't in the theoretical appeal of socialist or Marxist ideals, but in their practical applicability.  You see, I've come to the realization that the whole "according to his ability" thing is a little too static for me.  For without external motivation, there's just no way in heck I would be able to learn what my abilities may be.

Without a race to run, I would never learn how to run.  Without a bigger piece of the economic pie, I wouldn't know what I could ultimately produce.

Now what does all of this mean?

Well, the good news is that The Man and I are in the middle of an interesting project that we're developing together in addition to my other work, and if the potential of this project is what we think it might be, then it just might offer the kind of motivational challenge that I've been looking for for the next few years.

And I suspect that once I'm stuck in with a big professional challenge, one that gets me excited and makes me see the myriad mini-goals on the way to the finish line, I'll also feel somehow more committed to my sporting goals.

In the meantime, let's just hope that I can keep it together long enough to run my next 10km race in Cambodia.  Surely I have the ability to do that, don't I?

Over and out,
Joy