sport
/spôrt/
noun.
a. an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment.
b. a person who behaves in a good or specified way in response to teasing, defeat, or a similarly trying situation.
Growing up, I was the farthest thing from an athlete. I mean, I ran around with the neighbourhood kids every day – riding bikes, rollerblading and swimming in the summer. But as far as organized sports go, I tried softball for a season and joined a bowling team on Saturday mornings. Yikes! Not something a preteen would admit to their friends.
My sister was always more active. She even won athlete of the year at her Grade 8 graduation. Sometimes I wondered how two people from the same family could be so different. But then I would look at my parents, and it would all makes sense.
Before we were even born, my dad was always keeping busy with some kind of activity. In fact, joining a church baseball team was the very thing that pushed him towards a belief in God, which led him to meet and marry my mom, and thus the beginning of our family. Cool, right?
My mom, on the other hand, has always been creatively talented. Although she wouldn’t boast of this, I believe she has mastered the art of hospitality. She is happy to plan, prepare and host a meal for friends and family anytime, and she is constantly knitting something to welcome new babies into the world.
If you know our family at all, you can quickly see that my sister adopted my dad’s quick wit, sense of humour and athletic abilities, while I took on my mom’s organizational habits and creative energy.
So, what’s the point of this post? Well, as an adolescent moving into high school, I had a really hard time seeing the value in my talents. For me, the final two years of elementary school took a toll on my self-esteem because kids are mean and emotions are high.
I was intelligent, shy and overweight. Not exactly a formula for popularity.
Oftentimes, my teachers would call me out as the model student, and share my work with the class in an effort to provide others with a guide. As much as a longed for recognition and approval from my teachers, this became the object of ridicule for my peers. I became “goodie two shoes” and “teacher’s pet” and that was NOT a good thing. It meant that I was perceived as greater than my peers, unworthy of their time OR it meant that I was used by them to get an easy A.
Now, add this to the fact that I was very shy. I hated being in the spotlight. I did not like to participate in class. I did everything in my power to avoid the gaze of my teachers who expected me to have the answer. I didn’t consider myself to be smart, and always brushed it off as me being a hard-worker. To this day, I still put forth that argument.
Combine these internal qualities with my body image. Although I don’t recall any specific comments from my peers about my weight, I remember an overall sense of judgement – the looks, the whispers, the lack of being picked for a team. And the worst part is, this ridicule did not end with peers at school. It followed me to every social gathering where even the adults in the room said things without thinking.
“Wow, you’re a big girl!”
“How much do you weigh?”
“Look at those thighs!”
And the comments don’t go away when you start to slim down. Trust me.
Although I found a niche in high school, and my social circle doubled, I hit a wall somewhere between Grade 10 and 11. I changed my hair, I bought clothes from trendy stores, I expanded my music tastes… But still, I was judged and unhappy. I didn’t actually believe these to be sadness solutions, but I remember wanting to be noticed and appreciated by someone — to find proof that I was worthy of love.
I remember a significant period of time in high school where I always carried around a water bottle or two. People would make comments about how I must be well hydrated, and my friends always knew they could count on me if they needed a drink. But reality is, I was using water as a replacement for snacking. I was filling my stomach with water to avoid filling it with food. This isn’t to say that I didn’t eat regularly because I did. This was just my way of avoiding the temptation of extra snacks. At best, this was an unhealthy, quiet cry for help.
Combine this with growth spurts that made me taller than all my friends, and the weight seemed to “disappear.” Sometimes people would ask me how I did it, and I would just shrug it off, because in reality, I was just as unhealthy as before.
Flash forward to university where I gained a roommate who loved to be active, and a free pass to the school gym. Our first trip to the gym happened late in the evening because of our busy schedules, but it was also a plus for me as I was terrified of judging eyes and hoped that no one would be there to watch. Unbeknownst to her, actually stepping into the building was a huge feat for me.
As the years went on, I tried to keep gym visits part of my regular routine, but things would get busy and schedules wouldn’t always align. At home during the summers, I kept a more regular running routine, but it was always on a trail away from the public eye. I would even walk a few kilometres from my house to get to the trail before I started my run. Fuelled by my depression, I would blast music in my ears and run as far as possible, before walking my way out. Sometimes I got lost on purpose, and sometimes I could hardly see for the tears in my eyes. At the end of the trail, I was physically exhausted, yet feeling some temporary form of happiness.
By fourth year, I often went to the gym alone, fuelled by the same negative mentality. I knew that if I dragged myself there and ran for a while, some endorphins would kick in and I wouldn’t feel so crappy for a while. The goal was hardly ever about being healthy or strong; it was almost always about fixing my brain.
Time and time again, I see criticism and ridicule of others plastered on social media platforms. I read comments from people making fun of others AT THE GYM who are overweight or not in the best shape and it breaks my heart. Why do we judge those who are making an effort to improve their health and well-being? Shouldn’t we be praising them for taking a step in the right direction?
I’ve never understood the need to ridicule someone for the way they look.
Thankfully, I’ve had people along the way who have acted as my personal cheerleaders. They have offered words of encouragement, rather than advice. They have willingly listened, rather than place judgement. They are the reasons I can sit here today and write down these vulnerable truths.
One of my biggest supporters is my husband. Those who know him understand that he is far more than the techie who sits at a desk all day. He is also an active, outdoorsy type who loves riding bikes, hiking long distances, camping in the wilderness and canoeing across lakes.
This past winter, his family took me under their wing to teach me how to ski. It was terrifying at first, and I had to fight those negative voices in my head telling me I was weak, incapable and foolish. But eventually, I was zooming down the hill on my own and loving every second. It quickly became an activity that I can see us doing for years to come.
Then, this summer, we were invited to play tennis for the first time. We loved it so much that we went out and bought our own rackets and balls, and have now been using the tennis court at our condo quite frequently. We’re still getting the hang of it, but we have lots of fun laughing at our own mistakes.
As you can plainly see, my ideas of health and fitness have been quite damaged over the years. I believed the lies that I could never play sports, that I would never find an activity that I actually enjoyed. It’s taken me a lot of trial and error to get it right. And even now, I’m still learning.
Learning to try new things.
Learning to make mistakes.
Learning to love my body.
I’m not sure why now seemed like the right time to share these experiences, but I hope someone somewhere feels a little less alone in their struggles to be active.
Get out there and try something new! I’m rooting for you!