I’m proud of my body. I like it. I’ve had the unfortunate opportunity to be amazed by its healing powers. I’ve had the empowering opportunity to be amazed by its athleticism in multiple instances; lifting, throwing, jumping, soccer, swimming, backpacking, manual labor, muscle-ups, and more. But I don’t like to show it off.
In 2010, I had what some might say still was the season of my life. At this point, I disagree with that sentiment, but it was really good, and I was bursting onto the international scene at the same time as the ESPN Body Issue was also gaining ground. They called me at the end of that season to see if I’d like to pose, nude, for their photographers. Many have called that experience empowering. A lot of people would jump at the chance. I know women who have hired their own photographers to capture such memories. I do think the imagery is beautiful. I’m amazed by the human body every day. It’s a gorgeous conundrum in all its forms. I said no thank you. And I adore the photos that come from every issue and the message of each woman who chooses to do it. It’s just not for me.
I have almost never been self-conscious about my appearance, save the adult acne era of 2014-2016. I was pretty darn gangly in high school before I lifted a weight, but the ladies came in strong sophomore year, so I usually did my best to cover them with too-large shirts and smushing sports bras. I still prefer to smother them in the name of support, but I also am proud to have them? I could never claim to be a fashionista (I even think that word is outdated), but I do enjoy getting dressed up. I’m just equally comfortable going to the grocery store in sweatpants and UGGs as skinny jeans and heeled booties.
To revisit 2010, I weighed between 180 and 185 pounds during that competitive season. My first Olympic team (2008) saw me at about the same competitive weight. Ever since the Nutter-Butter-fueled year of 2004-2005 (my Freshman year, surprise), I’ve threatened the 200-pound mark in the early and off-season, then leaned out through the spring and summer. In the ill-advised lean years of 2011 and 2012, I was only 175# most of the time. This spring, I finally hit 2 bills. When I visited Chula Vista in March, one of my favorites, Darrell Hill, asked me if I was lighter than normal. My response of, “I’m actually the heaviest I’ve ever been,” garnered an exclamation of, “Oh, sh*t!!!” from him. And that’s how I’ve felt all year: “Oh, sh*t,” in the best possible way.
2008, Beijing.
I only leaned out to 192 pounds in 2019, and I only know that thanks to nightly weigh-ins in Doha with Ari, who needs every pound she can get. That is her path. We have different ones, though I quite enjoy that they converge often (literal best roommate ever).
Doha, 2019.
Age is just a number, and so is weight. Perspective on both only happens when you take the time to reflect on why you feel how you feel, and what you can do to feel more confident in your skin. Which pieces of your life can be shifted to create mirrors that show you your worth in your physical shape, if you need that. How you can prepare for a future in which you’re surrounded by humans who remind you that you’re enough, however you are in any moment. People who encourage you toward your goals with only positivity.
Among the more hurtful things that I’ve ever heard about my body are as follows:
From a boyfriend who preceded me lifting any weights: “I’m glad we broke up, because I don’t like girls who look like you.”
From a friend of a friend, after seeing me in a swimsuit, a statement to the effect of: “The way you look is achievable. Other people are in too good of shape.”
I’ve had a number of photo shoots that I never see the result of, and I’m always left wondering if post-processing becomes cost-prohibitive. Getting positive feedback from photographers, feeling confident, and then being told that the photos didn’t make the cut is more devastating than not having the photo shoot in the first place. The thought of, “I’ve made it!!!!” followed by radio silence, hurts.
These photos, by the incredibly talented Donald Miralle, are some that I’m really proud of. I was confident enough to take off my shirt, sure, but they didn’t make the ESPN the Magazine issue that they were supposed to, and now they exist just in Donald’s portfolio (which feels appropriate, as he has been an awesome encourager). I was 24, and I’m glad to have the time capsule, but something I also think about when I happen upon them is how uncomfortable I was in that moment. And that’s not on Donald. I elected to remove my shirt, because I thought I was supposed to. I like the ring photos alright, but by contrast, the images he made of me outside, shirt-on, still make me feel more powerful than almost anything in the world.
Donald Miralle, all rights reserved. Available for purchase in his portfolio.
I’ve been across the spectrum. I’ve been objectively successful as a javelin thrower at every weight I’ve ever been as a developed human. I compete against shredded women. Their story is not mine. I’m not successful if I’m shredded* (read that as, *as shredded as they are). And the times I’ve been most self-conscious about my body are when I make questionable fashion choices and then they get photographed. But you know what? If smartphones weren’t fixtures in every area of our lives and I wasn’t a Generation 1 Facebook user, that photo evidence of my awkwardness wouldn’t exist, and I would just be left with fun memories of great times in the skin I’m in. You can be confident but also not want to show yourself off. You can be self-conscious but fake it ‘till you make it. You can be any combination of the two. Be you.
What’s your goal? Is it to be totally jacked? Do you want minimal body fat percentage? Is that a weight/composition that produces the results you desire? Do you want to throw (the javelin) super far? If you can do both, awesome. Go for it. You do you. I simply can’t. My body literally breaks. In minor ways first, and if I ignore those enough, in really major ways.
I need some meat on my bones to throw really far, and the irony is that I’ve never been happier with my body than I was this year, when it was most dense. Objective body measurements mean nothing if you’re not happy and not achieving your goals. Perhaps I’ll continue to lean out during 2020 and 2021, but maybe not. As long as I’m feeling strong and powerful and focusing on the things that truly worked for me at the end of this season, I won’t care about the visual product. I’m too…wise for that. I encourage you to get there, too.