Don’t hate the player, hate the game

I used to be scared of pretzels. 

I used to be scared of toast.

I used to be scared of rice.

#TBH, I still am. In this weird way–like a toxic ex you can’t shake.

As I ate my toast this morning, snacked on pretzels before a run, and filled my bowl with rice for dinner, I thought: I am just straight up making a meal and eating it. With little thought except that I am hungry and my body needs fuel.

You know, not scared to actually enjoy carbs. Oh gosh, did I just jinx myself–enjoying that forbidden, naughty word that has haunted my thoughts and derailed my body image for decades: CARBS!

…and so as I was grinding through three miles, I kept thinking: when did I reconcile my relationship with carbs? I mean, here I am feeling damn good moving my body, craving my runs as I approach the half marathon and simply just happier.

The answer: I have been educating myself for the past couple of years in the world of health, nutrition and fitness with a focus on how it impacts women. I have audited my Instagram to be sure the people I follow are offering sound, science-based information and I have started to focus on performance.

Now what I am about to say took a long time to accept and a mindset that is still hard to maintain, but when I switched from obsessing over what my body would “look” like to how my body would “feel” depending on what I shoveled into my mouth, game changer.

If I want to crank out 13.1 miles, I need carbs.

If I want consistent mental clarity and energy, I need carbs.

If I want to have a well-rounded diet to enhance longevity, I need carbs.

I often wonder when this all started. This obsession that carbs were bad and depleting them from my diet would magically deliver the body that I dreamed would make me blissfully happy and fulfilled. For real. Is it some natural programming all females receive at birth?

In childhood, I don’t recall any focus on fitness and nutrition but rather plenty of carbs eaten, enjoyed and never thought about again.

In elementary school, I was too consumed with sitting next to Kerri Rogers at lunch to care what was on my tray.

In middle school, I was too busy writing love letters to my crushes & giggling with my best friend to realize body image mattered.

In high school, well high school was all sorts of a hot mess, but I do know I played sports, ate whatever I wanted and not once did I think about my body or my weight.

Was it college? No, I was too busy riding the bench for Avila’s volleyball team, dressing like a 40-year-old secretary for every house party and functioning on zero sleep.

So when? I truly don’t know the moment, but I can guess it is the constant messaging we receive as women starting at a young age. The television shows, the magazine ads, listening to boys talk about what kinds of girls are “hot” or simply the sexualization we see of women everywhere—and dating back for soooooo long.

…and then add in social media. Holy shit. I mean, can you imagine being a young girl in 2024? Yet, I try to remember there are some positive changes today. Girls see so many different body sizes compared to the Victoria's Secret models I envied at thirteen. Brands are becoming more inclusive to body types—while I was too scared to order jeans from Delia’s catalog because I wasn’t “skinny”, so I ordered a robe that I still wear 20 years later. Not joking—peep this post’s image.

Where I am going with all this? This came to mind: Hate the game, not the player.

The player: Yourself. Women. 

The game: the rat race of trying to fit into the mold of what society communicates we look like. feel like. act like. 

I hope my reflection can offer some solidarity to those who have been waging the same war against themselves especially those entering midlife where I am starting to feel like that toxic ex is going to show back up telling me:

“Damn, almost 40? Good luck. Too late. It’s going to be so hard. Good riddance to how “easy” it was to maintain. Everything slows down. Hey, maybe you should try cutting back on those carbs again, babe.”

Fuck that. Eat the carbs. Aim for performance. And keep fighting the good fight, my friends.