Carnaval Bodies

For the third year in a row, Katherine invited me and other friends to her apartment to watch the Carnaval Parade from her fire escape. As we sipped mimosas and snacked on pork buns and grilled chicken and tortillas, the parade passed below us on 24th Street. We watched dancers in too skimpy outfits for the chilly morning shimmy and shake their way down the street. From our post up above, we could see the jiggle of the women’s breasts as they moved to the music. Bellies were exposed, butt cheeks peeped out from bikini bottoms, and thighs abounded.

Perched on the fire escape and watching the dancers below, I wasn’t so much mesmerized by the dancers’ ability to dance but by their lack of concern about their body shapes. Some women had beautiful bodies but a large number of them had bellies that jutted and jiggled and thighs that flapped (not to mention breasts that were about to jump out of their tiny tops). But the women with the less than perfect bodies were still out in their revealing outfits with it all hanging out and having a great time performing for the hundreds of people that lined the streets.

After the parade, we watched the performers on the stage set up on Harrison Street at 17th and once again, but from closer view, I was in awe of these women and their bodies. I didn’t see one with a flat stomach and ripped abs. I didn’t see women with size 2 waists. I didn’t see one that looked like Heidi Klum or Gisele Bundchen. Instead, I saw stomachs that shook as the rest of their bodies did to the music. I saw thighs wobble as the women did kicks. I saw women with bodies that looked like mine and like so many other people in the crowd of spectators. I saw women with amazing smiles happy to be performing.

I was envious of how comfortable they appeared exposing what some people may consider their bodies’ flaws to everyone who was out at the Carnaval festivities. It didn’t matter to them that their bodies weren’t fashion magazine perfect, and I wanted to feel that way too.

Shoe Shopping

After reading both The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Running Injury-Free and Fitness for Dummies, I learned that the best way for me to not hurt myself while exercising would be to have the right pair of shoes. I knew of the importance of proper footwear already, but both books slammed it into my head. Wearing the wrong shoes or shoes that are too worn out can cause or exacerbate a host of problems, including hammer toe (caused by wearing shoes too small so that the toes smush into themselves, rendering them like little hammers), blisters, and black toenails.

I started running again in the New Balances I wore several years ago when I was running regularly. I knew that after a certain amount of miles shoes would get so worn that they would need to be replaced, but I doubted I got anywhere close to having run enough miles to have worn down those sneakers. But, putting them on again after years of non-use, I noticed that they were tighter. My toes felt like they were pushing up against the toe box. Is it possible for feet to continue growing? Did I put on so much weight that even my feet were getting fat? In any case, my shoes were too small and I needed new ones. I also thought of new shoes as a motivator: if I spent money on new running shoes, I should actually put them on and go running.

My books told me what to look out for when buying running shoes and suggested that I go to sports store that focused on running goods. I had no idea such places existed. The Idiot’s Guide also suggested that I make a map of my foot to see what sort of arches I have and bring my maps with me to the shoe store. So, I made my foot maps. I wet my foot in the bathtub and stepped on a piece of construction paper so that my wet foot made an imprint. I then switched feet and did the same to the other foot. According to the outlines I made, I have high arches. And, according to my Idiot’s Guide this means that I “tend to roll on the outside edge of [my] foot and push off with [my] little toe” and that my weight isn’t distributed evenly over my foot, which can cause serious injury.

Armed with my foot maps and some help from Yelp to find the best running shoe store in San Francisco, I made my way to Fleet Feet, located in the Marina district. I had to steel myself for my journey to the Marina, where I envisioned frat boys turned stock brokers and cheerleaders turned account executives to litter the streets with their obnoxiousness. But, I had a purpose: I would get my shoes and get out. I ended up walking from my house to Fleet Feet and after the 50-minute walk, my feet were a little puffy, the perfect time for shoe shopping.

When I stepped inside Fleet Feet, four pairs of eyes turned towards me. I was the only customer and all the sales people were eyeing me as I was wiping the sweat from my forehead. Did I need help? they asked. Yes, I was looking for a new pair of running shoes. The cuter of the sales guys said he could help me. I tried to not think about the sweat still beading on my forehead and how my pants were sticking to my thighs. I told him that it had been a few years since I last was running regularly, that I wanted to get back into it, and that I need some new shoes. He asked if I ever had my feet fitted before and I said no. He asked me to take off my shoes and socks and measured my feet without my weight on them and then with. He then asked me to walk up and down the store so that he could examine my walk (I tried not to be self-conscious). He then brought out a few pairs of shoes for me to try. He helped me put them on and tied them for me. He squeezed my feet. He then asked me to run in them for him. I looked at him. Excuse me? Just run, nice and slow, from here to the door and back. Huh? Everyone does it; it’s to see if the shoes are right. Hm…okay.

I ran for him. I tried to not think about how silly I felt, how my pants were still sticking to my thighs, how my form must be horrible, how my back looks fat, how I was still sweating. When I finished my short run he asked me how they felt. They felt okay but I didn’t know how they should feel. He mad me try on more shoes but didn’t make me run around. I walked around instead. I went through five pairs, concentrating on what made each shoe different, and which shoe felt the best. I tried each pair on several times, some times with one shoe on one foot and a different shoe on the other foot. During the shoe testing, the shoe guy and I chatted:

Shoe Guy: So, you’re trying to get back into running again?
Me: Yup. It’s been a little while but I want to start again.
SG: Where do you run?
Me: On the street, around the neighborhood.
SG: It’s more interesting than on a treadmill.
Me: Yeah, but the hills are a little tricky where I live.
SG: Do you plan on racing? (Apparently he had no idea who he was talking too.)
Me: Um…not any time soon. I want to start slow and work my way up there. Eventually, I’d like to. What do you do?
SG: I run 5Ks and marathons.
Me: Oh.

Yeah, it will be a while until I can run a marathon—it will be a while until I can run a mile—but it felt a little reassuring that he asked if I planned on racing, that it didn’t seem so far off as a goal, that he didn’t see me as a total out-of-shape heifer for whom running a race seemed completely unfathomable.

After going through all the shoes he pulled out for me, I chose a pair of Asics with just a little bit of extra support; they felt the best on my feet. I had no choice about the colors of the shoes (which were white with light blue and silver) but didn’t really care, even though the color and physical appearance of the shoe would have been the most important aspects to me in any other shoe-shopping case. I asked about the store’s return policy just in case after all that shoe-testing I decided I didn’t like them, and he told me that I could bring them back within 30 days, even if I got them dirty. How wonderful, I thought. He rung up my purchase and entered my name in their database so that the next time I came back, they could tell me what shoe I bought if I wanted the exact same one. I thought it was brilliant and that that was probably my best shoe-shopping experience.

The Beginning

I'm starting a new blog. Yes, I am aware that I have two others that I have ignored for months and even years, but I've fallen out of love with them and am moving on to something new. It's not them, it's me. Part of my problem with continuing with my Daily Eats blog as regularly as I once have is that I'm trying to be more conscious about my eating habits. In doing so, I've been eating out less, drinking less, and eating more salads and whole grains. I doubt that many people want to read about the arugula, quinoa, and whole wheat toast that I've been eating on a food blog. It's not culinarily exciting or all that enticing.

So, this is where this blog, More Fit, Less Fat, comes in. I'm trying to be more fit and less fat. But, this is not a diet blog. You will not see me count my calories. You will not hear me bemoan my fat thighs and jiggly belly. You will not get a minute-by-minute rundown of my workout routine and the ounces of sweat that I perspire. Nor, will you read about how much I can bench press.

I haven't quite figured out what this blog will be yet, but I'm sure it will include all my fumbling stories of trying to be more active, trying to be a runner, trying to balance my love for good food and drink and my need to eat more healthfully, and trying to figure it all out as I go along in my quest to be more fit and less fat.