Body Positivity and Biking

Since turning 30, I've been doing things I never thought I would do. Something I did recently that never would have crossed my mind as even being a thing was riding a bike topless in public. It was possibly the best thing I've ever done.

This passed Saturday I participated in the Portland World Naked Bike Ride, a protest to draw attention to bikers' vulnerability in our dangerous car culture.

But, like many causes, each individual may chose their own purpose for participation. Yes, I dislike sharing the road with overly aggressive cars, and I believe in freeing the nipple, but what moved me most was more personal. After 31 years of being a woman in this world, I finally felt truly comfortable in my own skin.

We showed up in the park among totally or partially nude bikers (and some individuals in motorized wheelchairs) and I still wasn't ready to strip yet. There was nothing about the people around me that affected me at all--it all was very natural feeling. But, I still couldn't get myself to do it. I'm not sure why, but I felt like a poser almost. Am I really this confident? Am I really someone who does stuff like this?

My partner, who had the bag in which my clothes would be held the whole time, gave me the final warning to pack away my covers. So, just like I was standing at the edge of the pool too hyped up to jump in, I hesitated. And then I finally took the plunge. And, nothing happened, which is the best thing that could have happened.

Over the course of the ride, I grew more and more blithe. It really became so obvious and true to me how arbitrary body shaming is. You can't possibly compare yourself to others because every single person is so very different.

We met up afterwards with a few lady friends who, like me, were bursting with confidence in our bodies. No, we were strutting around like Beyonce or showing off like a bunch of exhibitionists. That's the thing. There was nothing sexy, grand, vulgar, or cheeky (hehe) about it. It was all just what it is - people naked and feeling comfortable. And, as women, that was SO remarkable.

So, I take this with me every day now.

3 in 30: Why I Must Do.My.Art.

Airplanes make you think.

I knew from the start that I'd have a hard time keeping up with my 3 in 30 project. I dislike my habit of losing steam. I knew that my last installment would be based around the concept of "careering" and I knew I needed time to really think about it. This third part is based on a realization I had while running (see #12 here). It's about what I NEED to do with as far as a job or a "job," but I also knew that I would take it up clumsily.

But, I am going to do it. I just have to. I must. It's hard. So, I take a diamond of advice from Cheryl Strayed--"Do you think miners stand around all day talking about how hard it is to mine for coal? They do not. They simply dig."

But very simply, what I without-a-doubt gotta do is, "do my art." My crude little mantra bounced into my head as my feet rounded a Northeastern curve of Lake Merced. All of my life I've been storytelling, crafting, considering, making up, thinking, scribbling, throwing, creating. Like many of us, I did it so much more when I was younger--wondering in a couch-cushion fort at age four and wondering at four a.m. in my college dorm. I made a promise to myself sometime in high school after waking from a dream with an idea. In the middle of the night, I flicked on my lamp and write down the idea, which I've completely forgotten, and lay wide awake for hours after. During that time, I promised that I would always try my wild ideas, write them down while saying "fuck it" to sleep if I had to, share them with the world. No excuses. For the most part, that hasn't happened to me in about six or seven years. About the time when I started working full time. I broke my own promise to myself. Let myself down.

My favorite succulent, which grows as slowly the rest.

I'm happy with the small, but growing, body of work out there that a few people might have read. And, when I say growing, I mean it's growing like succulents. Over a happy spring, you'll notice how quickly tulips and daffodils bloom and wilt. But succulents take their time. Sometimes they turn ruddy and gaunt but then a brilliant storm fills them and they're verdant and voluptuous again. They grow slowly and deliberately. That's my writing. I love it, I don't tend to it enough, and yet I'm blessed with a storm every so often. It's time for me to take those storms into my own hands.

I feel terrified that I will keep making excuses and never sacrifice luxurious comforts to do it.

"Do you think miners stand around all day talking about how hard it is to mine for coal? They do not. They simply dig."

-Cheryl Strayed

Right before Christmas I lost my job to company-wide layoffs. I knew about it the day before my 31st birthday, so I had two months to prepare to be jobless, to get myself psyched up for a month or so of freedom. Of visiting family, packing and cleaning my apartment, sleeping in, preparing elaborate lunches for myself followed by elaborate dinners for my husband and I, running a wandering we'll-see-far-I-can-go route and possibly ending up somewhere in San Mateo county only to drag myself back to San Francisco on the CalTrain stinky, achy, and more badass than ever, and writing, writing, writing every other hour of the endless days. I had two months to plot all of this, my "do my art" life plan. 

Since being jobless, I feel like I'm running on a hamster wheel. I'm tired but can't get off the wheel. The anxiety that I might miss a job or an apartment opportunity if I don't apply immediately and then the guilt when I can't bare to write a third or fourth cover letter in one day or speak on the phone about all of my alternative income. Guilty when I just want spend the day reading. The embarrassment and frustration I aim at myself when I see that I've made a mistake. Uploaded the wrong cover letter to the wrong posting. Spelled "messenger bag" incorrectly in a writing sample. All of this is self imposed. (Ah, I said it!)

Why am I like this? I'm the girl who always does her work on time and works hard enough to justify or earn free time. The little girl whose parents were told by her teachers "I wish I could keep Angela in my class forever!" and whose parents tell her "We're so lucky to have you." The girl who disappoints when she fails Algebra and lies about where she was after school.

I'm flying to the East Coast to meet my niece for the first time. Today is her first birthday. My parents are getting older, too. I found round-trip ticket from coast to coast for under $300. And, I mean, it's not like I have a job (but I keep thinking that my job is to find a job, and by the California EDD expectations it is, but even that job has got to have weekends and vacation, right? Gah!), so I can travel for a few days and see my family while I can. While they're young and healthy.

As I waited at the gate for boarding, I watched a woman across from me knit. If you know me, you know that my other quiet hobby after running and writing is knitting. This woman had those beautiful wooden, rainbow stained needles I covet and was speedily forming a fluffy ivory-colored sweater. If you know me, you're wondering why I didn't bring my own knitting. I thought, as the woman set down her needles pointing precariously upward, that knitting needles were illegal on planes. Only terrorists carry knitting needles onto planes, right? That's what I thought, and I thought I was just following the rules. Always such a good girl, following the rules.

I've been following rules that don't exist.

The girl that always followed the rules.

Inspired by my friend Megan's recent post on the one word blog challenge, I am taking one up. My word is short and sweet. It's ME. I choose it because I'm afraid of not doing what I want, what I know I should do, what is purely me. I fear that I'll end up putting all of my efforts and skills into full-time, well-paying job and feel empty by five p.m. That I should just "quit these pretentious things and just punch the clock" to borrow an Arcade Fire lyric. That I'm selfish for not contributing my skills to society (the workforce). I'm afraid of missing a job posting that could offer me stability and that I'll actually take it and be miserable.

So what am ME doing about this? I'm reminding myself that it's "Okay to take a break," as my husband lovingly and calmly told me over and over after my freak out last evening. I'm leaving my planner and three other job-related notebooks at home when I got out. I'm not going apply for 1 single job or look at Craigslist for even 1 apartment in Portland or anywhere. I'm going to make my own hours, eat BBQ at the Charlotte airport in about three hours, and anticipate seeing my niece's kind little grin in person and be that guy who Instagrams the heck out of it. If I drive anywhere, maybe I'll run a red light. WHO KNOWS. THE GLOVES ARE OFF. WATCH OUT SOCIETY AND HIDE YOUR STUPID RULES.

I must rekindle my promise. I will carve out significant time to work on that project that is truly unique and not yet existing in the world. What is truly ME.

In long-distance running, when you want to finish a certain amount of miles and feel like you can't, you do. You don't stop. You mine the coal. You do your art.

My 2015 is about me, but really it's about "do my art."

How about you?

3 in 30: 13.1 Reasons Why I Love Having Running in My Life

Me getting ready for my second 5k in 2012.

This October, I will be completing my fourth half marathon. It would be my second since turning 30.  Ever since I first started running in 2010, my life has gotten better!

I used to not be very active or health conscious. After moving to San Francisco with its agreeable, must-go-out-and-run weather, things changed. Seeing so many other runners enjoying getting fit in the temperate weather and fresh air inspired my husband and I. We started with the Couch to 5k program and since then have run thousands of miles together. Seriously, if I add it up, it's got to be in the thousands!

The best running I've done, though, has been in this year, my 30th year. This past July, I finished the San Francisco Half in about 2 hours and 48 minutes, never stopping once. Never stopping once! That was my biggest running accomplishment to date. I still can't believe I freaking ran nonstop for almost three hours. As crazy as it sounds, I can't wait to do it again!

During my training for the upcoming Healdsburg Wine Country Half, I've been thinking more specifically about why I love running. Here is a list of 13.1 (har har) reasons why I'm happy running has become a part of my life.

1. Music.
From mixes containing singles from Fleetwood Mac and Prodigy to full albums like Arcade Fire's Neon Bible, the perfect tunes blasting in my giant pink headphones really make a difference. I personally must have really big music laden with thoughtful lyrics (or just plain ol' silly ones). Getting into the zone with the music is essential to a good run.

I'm not going to lie, I do pretend that the music is being performed by my own imaginary band. While running, I fantasize about what my band would be called, what I would wear, what kind of guitars I would use for each part, what songs I might play simple percussion on, what my hometown comeback concert would be like. It gets in intense. When I run, I'm a rock star in my head and on the pavement.

During the latest SF Half Marathon, I was coming up on mile 8, only I didn't know it because I noticed zero mile marker signs on the route. Pulp's "This Is Hardcore" came on in my headphones. I thought "Yeah, this is hardcore. I'm hardcore, bitches!" I saw the 8 mile mark sign, feeling totally awesome, thinking "I just ran 8 miles? No way! I'm seriously hard core!"

The first time I ran for a solid five minutes, I couldn't believe it.

2. Being in the zone.
I mentioned this phrase above. When I'm in the zone for most of my run, the run becomes meditation. I'm motionless in the moment while moving, piling on the miles while being as still as stone. Slipping into a meditative state is probably the easiest thing about running--once it happens. You can't force it to happen, it just happens. When it does and you realize later that you've been in that state, it's so rewarding. I never could, as an adult, get into meditation while simply sitting. Meditative running sort of just happened to me, and it's a gift!

3. Races are fun!
You get free snacks, coupons, a t-shirt, and camaraderie from fellow runners. Sometimes there's even beer at the finish line!

4. An excuse to wear neon.
You may remember my No Bullshit Wardrobe which consists mainly of black knits. I don't own one piece of black running wear.

Me after finishing the 2014 SF Half Marathon. #BUCN

5. Having gained patience and persistence.
The Couch to 5k program could not have been a more perfect intro to running for me. I never knew it could or should have been done that way. You don't buy the cheapest pair of shoes and start racing at full speed only to chide yourself for only lasting a few minutes. It takes time and practice. When I in the past threw myself into running on occasion without doing any research or taking the necessary time to warm up or practice, I was only reminded of why I thought I hated it all in the first place. It's also an injury risk to run right into it (pun intended).

To help us, I drew up a schedule for our Couch to 5k training and marked down when we completed each step. Seeing our progress, our persistence, was part of our fuel. I couldn't bare not being able to cross off a day. Feeling so good about each run lead me to get up out of bed and jump into my running clothes each early morning before sunset. I certainly wasn't always chipper and happy before the runs, but I was after. I've never regretted a run!

I discovered that I can actually run for a sustained amount of time. The first time I ran for a solid five minutes, I couldn't believe it. The first time I ran for a solid twenty and completed half of a 5k, I couldn't believe it. I remember expressing such pure excitement to my husband after my first twenty minute run in Duboce Park one early November morning among happy dogs and their owners. I was almost in tears. It just took some time, building up from one minute to thirty to forty to complete 5 kilometers (3.1 miles). That's all. Patience and persistence with the sweet reward of self accomplishment.

When I run, I'm a rock star in my head and on the pavement.

6. Enjoying my surroundings.
Every time I run the two-mile loop from Church and 30th to Church and 22nd, I notice something new. Those runs from scummy SoMa to the majestic Golden Gate Bridge, climbing Fort Mason and skimming heron-speckled Crissy Field, never get old. Even though I run around Lake Merced almost every Sunday, I'm always taken by the way the elusive sun sparkles on the water, dancing on the ripples created by local rowing teams. Nature!

7. Doing a lot in thirty minutes. 
Whether I'm practicing speed on the treadmill or taking a jaunt around the neighborhood, I can cover between 2.5 and 3 miles in a half hour. (Actually, 3 miles is 30 minutes is something I'm trying to get to, and it ain't easy.) Think about what 2 to 3 miles is. It's kind of far, but when you walk or run it, it's not that far. You could run to the store, buy a candy bar, and run home!

Me after my first 10k.

8. Camaraderie with other runners.
When I pass other runners, sometimes we make eye contact and shoot each other a knowing nod or smile. I especially love acknowledging other women runners, giving them a kind of "you go girl" smile and getting one in return.

When I was doing my first 9 mile run, turning into my second loop around Lake Merced, I passed a walking gentleman for the third time. He said, "You doing this again?!" I nodded. His response? "You go girl!" And you know what, good for him for getting out and exercising too!

9. Food.
While you shouldn't go crazy, you can totally make an excuse to indulge after burning 1500+ calories from running a half marathon!

After our last one, my husband and I limped home, laid in bed for a while, and eventually forced ourselves up to Giovanni's down the street where we pounded down a large stuffed crust pepperoni pizza. And root beers. And a Cesar salad drowned in chemically-dangerous dressing. It was great.

10. Gaining a better body image.
On one of my first runs out in the neighborhood, a man hollered to me "You don't need to do that, girl! You look hella fine!" The entire spectrum of why I resent that comment could be a whole post in itself. For now, I will focus on the body image facet. Assuming I was exercising because I wanted to be thinner or want to look more "hella fine?" Boo! I wasn't trying that. I want a healthier heart, there's that. I want to be able to live as long as possible, too. Overall, losing weight isn't really in my top five.

Still, I've developed a much better outlook toward my body. Like many people who went through middle school and high school (like, everyone, right?) I had to learn to love my body. In high school, I had a difficult time managing emotions and bottled up frustrations came out as binging and purging. Really bad. I ended up losing weight, and began getting compliments on how I looked. That just fueled my bad habits. College helped me with my food issues, but after a summer in a physically demanding job loading and pushing carts of library books, I lost weight again. And, again, I was told that I looked better and again I felt pressured to keep it up or else not look good, as if being heavier meant something was wrong with me.

While training for my first half, I lost ten pounds. The loss only became truly apparent to me during a routine physical at my doctor's. She said it was a good thing, and that if I wanted to lose more, which I could if I wanted, then I should just keep doing what I've been doing. So, I have.

I don't love the way I feel when I don't run for a while. I don't love the heaviness or the softness that drifts back in. But, when I do run for months at a time and feel fit, I know it's because I am doing something healthy for me. I'm now aware of what this body of mine can actually do.

I feel every millimeter of my joints and thank humanity for inventing sweat-slicking pants so that I can run without major chaffing between my thighs (because I never likely never get a thigh gap per my body type or per lack of giving a shit).

I look at my 30-year-old body and know it can take me far. I don't see "fat" or "skinny." Sometimes I see "hella fine" sometimes I see stretch marks and blemishes and move on. I always see a body with a mind, a will, and a heart to got me far and can keep going.

High school gym class will never have anything on me.

11. Parts of your body chafe that you didn't know could chafe. 
I seriously got chaffing on my face. My FACE. Wanna know how? Ask me. Why am I happy about this? It makes me laugh.

12. Why I'm here writing this today.
I talk a lot about Lake Merced. Near the end of a recent run on the 4.6~ loop, I was thinking about what in the hell I want to do with my life (besides run). I had a cliche kind of epiphany moment where I realized all I need to do is have more time for my own creativity. Not just make time, but have more time. I will get more into that in my third 3 for 30 post, but for now I can say that I wouldn't be sitting down and working on this without that clarity running brings to me.

13. High school gym class will never have anything on me. 
Twice now I've announced to social media that I've completed a major race and said something along the lines of "Take that high school gym class!" I suppose I can make it a thing, maybe make a hashtag out of it. I say it over and over because the biggest hurdle for me to get into any exercising was high school gym class. For me it was rarely fun, always annoying, and never a skill-learning experience.

Think of one good memory you've had in gym class. If you've had one, please, tell the world about it. If you somehow never took a school gym class, consider this:

You're told in so many words to run four times around the track or else you won't get any credit for the day, which will count toward your final grade and graduation. The fear of actually flunking high school...yep. You're not really given any direction, just "run!" It's hot, you're already sweating from the trek from the school to the track, and you're worried about having BO in your next class. You have a history test to take later. You're hungry because the lunch options sucked. You make it a quarter of the way around the track once and quit because of the aforementioned reasons and because the boys are staring at your boobs.

So, who would ever enjoy high school gym class? (Hey, smartasses, don't say it's the boys staring at your boobs!)

Going back to my experience training, learning how to run, eating better, not caring that I'll stink on the bus ride home, not giving a shit about what dudes holler at me on the street, I've definitely conquered high school gym class. So, take THAT high school gym class!

.1 There always more miles to go...

Thanks for reading! This is the second part of my 3 for 30 series. Please come back for the last part!

3 for 30: My No Bullshit Wardrobe

 I've figured it out.

Today, my drawers and closet hold black knit tops and dresses, dark wash or black denim, and two different kinds of knit stretch pencil skirts, each in solid black, black and tan stripes, and red. I've got one pair of white Chuck Taylors, one pair of black Doc Marten boots, one pair of cognac Bass sandals, one pair of black ankle strap D'Orsay flats, one pair of running shoes. There's a heavily-worn collection of scarves, some I've hand-knit, and unique jewelry. There are several cat-eye sunglasses.

An exception to my black black black. From freshstyle.

Sprinkled among those items are a few novel things that I'll wear here and there and that I keep because I love them. But those items are greatly overshadowed by the mostly-black basics described above. I expect to feel comfortable and confident each day, and I can expect that from the wardrobe I've zeroed in on. I call it my No Bullshit Wardrobe.

How did I get to the No Bullshit Wardrobe? It took half of my life and thousands of dollars. Here are my reflections on that.

Personal Style Is Complex

Dollar Signs 

No matter how many trips I take to Buffalo Exchange, lugging overstuffed reusable grocery bags full of cat-fur-covered rompers, sweaters, and ill-fitting vintage frocks, I will never get half the money back I spent on clothes in the last nearly two decades. But, I can go forward with a frugal approach at clothes.

I was recently inspired by a "Year of No Shopping" by Bernadette over at Outfits Not Just Clothes. A practical result of her challenge was being able to pay off a lot of credit card debt. Did you ever consider how much you spend on clothes in a month?

To keep her fashion fresh, she borrowed accessories from Le Tote. Services like Le Tote and Stitch Fix may help control impulse buys. These subscription-based services send you personally curated boxes of clothing and accessories. You pay for the shipping and a "styling fee," but then only pay for the items you keep while you send back what you don't want. Not sure that they'd want this, but you could actually carefully wear something once and still send it back. That way you get a bit of style and saved some moneys!

From a shoot I did with ModCloth in a look I co-styled.

Bernadette also talks about wanting for nothing and buying clothes that don't fit yet but might if she lost weight. I have absolutely done that many, many times. My mom has done it many times. My friends have. Have you? Save yourself the money and resist the urge to buy without a clear purpose!

I'm not going to officially challenge myself to refrain from clothes shopping because my strict savings plan pretty much solves that issue for me. And, again, the No Bullshit Wardrobe does that for me too. I just don't feel the need, nor the want, to shop.

Feeling fly! THIS is what I feel like myself in.

Getting All Up in My Closet

I did three or four closet purges this year. My latest one, which got me $90, felt good. I kept seven dresses shrinking my former collection by about 75%. Some are everyday dresses, some are weekenders, some are special occasions, but they're each unique and represent pieces of my personality that still shine. They were right to keep.

I said goodbye to impostor shoes. For me, those are heels. They're not just me. Plus, I can't run in them if I need to (I made the mistake of wearing heels during snowy winter in Pittsburgh and was followed home by a creeper. Nothing terrible happened, but I always think that if it escalated, I wouldn't have been able to run well).

After the purges, I looked at what was left. It looked like me! It made me think of how David Lynch describes what turned him onto meditation. He heard someone say, "True happiness is not out there. True happiness lies within.” In this case, I was able to find part of my true self inside the clutter of my closet. I was able to find it with a little bit of willpower and tolerance for dust.

One of my favorite ways to dress.

When you feel like yourself in an outfit, don't you feel like you can do anything?

Personal Style Is, and Should Be, Complex

Though the No Bullshit Wardrobe is what I found when I stripped away clutter, the clutter wasn't always just clutter, and the remains don't totally define me.

Looking back at my wardrobe experimentations makes me cringe sometimes. My hippie phase and the later-dubbed "Young Republican" period sparks a little embarrassment. Why? Maybe because I feel that those looks don't illustrate who I know I am. Only, at the time, I didn't understand that because I was a teen. Looking back at a dozen years with as many looks shows that you've explored possibilities. It's a way of finding out who you are, and it's healthy!

Wouldn't wear this today, but it was fun at the time! Photo by Kristin Cofer.

You know now that my current everyday wardrobe stars basics. However, my whole true self is anything but basic. If I dress what could be considered boring or plain, do some people expect me to be such? Maybe. Have I been followed around the store by the proprieter while dressed in my Doc Martens? You bet. Do I care? Well, it sucks that people treat each other like that, but in short, nope, I don't care!

Looking back at the past 15 or 20 some years, I see hints of and appearances by my signature look. Through it all there were black tops, bottoms, dresses, etc. Through it all, every time I made the mistake of leaving the house in heels I had a bad day. Through it all, every single time I zipped up some kind of black leather laced boot I felt like myself.

I am what I wear and I'm not what I wear. My style is only a sliver of who I am but it's also important to me. What I wear affects how I feel. When you feel like yourself in an outfit, don't you feel like you can do anything?

Thanks for reading! This is the first part of my 3 for 30 series. Come back for the rest!

3 for 30: What I Learned About Myself This Year

I have a bit over a month and a half until my 31st birthday. This year I was able to deeply reflect on my 4 years here in San Francisco and figure a few things out. Some things are directly related to the ways of life I observed and experienced in the Bay Area, some came from within, and others are a mix of both.

There are three major topics I've boiled it down to, and I will be discussing them here soon! I'll cover:

1. Personal style
2. Running
3. Careering

Simply three subjects for my 30th year. Yet, it's not just that. They're specific themes or actions that I've thought a lot about this year that touched on many of the cliches and platitudes you may have read about it about maturing. Many of them are true, at least for this gal, but this gal is approaching them in her own way. See? When you're 30, you do things your way. 

Hold me to it! Stay tuned.

Brainstorming for my first "3 for 30" post on style.