what does it mean to be fit?
(picture: someone in tight pants running way too fast up a zillion stairs)
First and foremost, I already started this blog post and it didn’t save. So this version may not be as awesome. At least that’s what I’ll tell myself if it isn’t received well.
What makes someone fit? Is it a 6 pack? Toned thighs? The ability to run an Iron Man? I’m inundated with Pinterest pins about “fitness”. But who gets to decide what that means?
Ya’ll. I can FIT about half a Cheesy Gordita Crunch into my mouth at one time. But I’m guessing that isn’t what these perky, 20-something influencers mean.
Years ago, I got a bee in my bonnet about doing “manly” pushups. None of this “girl on your knees business”. So I spent a few months doing pushups religiously until I did over 40 “manly” pushups in a row. Was I fit then? I don’t know, but I was damn proud of the work I put in to get there.
Shortly after, I decided I wanted to run a half marathon. I trained for months and ran the Las Vegas Rock & Roll. While it was super fun, and I did okay, I’m not sure that made me “fit” either.
Obese people can run marathons. Skinny people can lift ridiculous amounts of weight. So how do we determine if we are truly fit? I sure as shit hope it’s not the American Fitness test we had to take in high school. Listen, I am SURE I can be fit and also not hold up my ghetto booty in an underhand pullup for 60 seconds. Not even overhand- like a pullup that uses your back muscles. They forced us to use our forearms to test if we could hold up our body weight for a predetermined “appropriate” amount of time. I never last more than a few seconds, by the way, and I was always so embarrassed.
For years, providers have shamed patients by using the Body Mass Index to determine if people are a “healthy weight” for their height. Thankfully, they’ve finally realized that’s all a bunch of bullshit wrapped in a pretty package. I have a friend who was an IFBB figure pro (look forward to some of her guest posts coming soon!) who didn’t know her BMI at the time. Because it doesn’t actually matter. I dated a guy who had tons of muscles and very little body fat but was considered obese by his BMI because he wasn’t that tall.
Cholesterol commercials tout that even skinny people can have high cholesterol. Yet society has propagated the idea that obesity equals unhealthy, or gasp, not being fit.
I ran 10 miles with less than optimal training. Is that fit? Or just good genes? (I think it’s must my absolute determination to not let people tell me I can’t do something and the refusal to fail). I’m certainly not the body composition I’d like to be.
Fit is touted as everyone’s’ goal. Your life isn’t complete unless you’re fit. But if there’s no set definition, who gets to tell me that "I’m not fit? Or shame you for not working out six days a week and eating, bleh, kale.
I’d like to invite you to join me in deciding what fit means to you as an individual.
What kind of realistic fitness goals can I make? Is this reaching the coveted 10k steps per day? Going to Orange Theory twice a week? Running 15 miles each week? How about I shoot for 2/3. And if I spend the week on my couch eating Doritos and sour cream, so be it. I can always be fit next week.
