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So I knit. And I think about knitting. I think about those who knit before me. The lore of knitting and the lure of knitting. It is all about how I knit in my life and what knitting means to me.

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Wednesday
Feb152017

Lauren Fleshman and Me

  

 

Well, there it is.

My very own Laruen Fleshman Moment.

You see it, right?

The Pooch. Gut. Flab.

In a moment of weakness on New Year's Day, I  signed up for the IceBreaker Indoor Marathon Relay in Milwaukee {something, which, when I explained to a friend what I was doing, earned the response ‘of course you are.’}. What can I say? I’d had about three hours of sleep, not enough coffee, and definitely not enough Champaign the night before.

My team, Frozen Flock, was four ladies, two of whom I’d never met before, and one of whom I’ve known forever, my sister. We took turns running approximately 800 meter laps until we’d collectively run a marathon.

 

 

Good news! Our team qualified for Boston!

Bad news! Teams don’t qualify for Boston!

A couple of days later, one of my teammates posted the picture of me standing on the sideline, waiting for my next leg.

Just a snapshot of me. Perhaps I’d just finished my leg and was breathing hard. Perhaps it was just a regular exhalation.

I know it is stupid. I mean, my body does all kinds of things that are pretty spectacular. Hello? I’ve birthed three children. One while I was standing up. And one particularly sassy one had to be ripped out of me when (s)he flipped into the breach position while I was in labor and her foot was dangling out of me. That was fun.

And I don’t know if you know this, but I have run a marathon. On my very own two legs.

26.2 Miles. At once. Like, without stopping. Except for those ten minutes when I had to stop because my face hit the pavement and my knees were all bleedy and I needed a Band-Aid. Minor detail.   

So why can’t I let go of that pooch taken at a most inopportune time? And why does it even matter what my stomach looks like? Why can’t I just celebrate what my body can do without hating on it?

I know I’m not alone. Lauren Fleshman had the same moment when she saw an image of her body with a pooch. She was three months post-partum.

So, no. It really isn’t okay. It isn’t okay for me to hate a part of my body, or wish some other part were smaller or more firm, or more defined.

And to quote my soul sister, Lauren “What the hell is wrong with us? We have this one body we are born with, live inside of, and move through in this world. Why aren’t we walking around naked, like ‘Booyah! Look what this body can do, bitches!’” 

 

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