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James Hamblin’s _If Our Bodies Could Talk_

James Hamblin’s _If Our Bodies Could Talk_

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A soft goal for me this year is to write here more often, beyond the usual race report and training recaps, though as is the case with everyone, sometimes finding the time can be challenging. I’ll often think of a topic — or want to react to something I read or heard — but the opportunity to sit down and write doesn’t come as readily or easily as I’d like it to, and by the time it does, the news is no longer relevant or pertinent. Fortunately though, a book I just finished reading lit a fire under me, and I wanted to share it with you today (before I forget, meh).

taking a break from spectating at swim practice to text my sister, imploring her to stop everything and read this book right now

Early yesterday morning, I finished a book that basically blew me away on every page: James Hamblin’s If Our Bodies Could Talk: A Guide to Operating and Maintaining a Human Body. I’ll preface my commentary below with the obvious, that this isn’t #sponsored and that no one is paying me to talk about it — hell, I borrowed it from my local library — but I honestly thought that it had so much good stuff that I just had to write about it.

I love a good science writer, and Dr. Hamblin, an MD and senior editor at The Atlantic, delivers. Here’s the thing about science writing: sometimes it can be pretty inaccessible. My MA and MS are most definitely not in science fields, and it has been approximately 10 years since I was in a science classroom as a student. Suffice it to say that I’m not an expert and barely consider myself an “armchair scientist,” whatever the hell that is. Here’s the other thing about books like IOBCT: they’re usually written pretty disparately. You’ve probably seen books like this before, where you can quickly find the segment called why do men have nipples? or are we made to eat meat? or some other baity headline, get your answer (and be ready to rock your next trivia challenge), and move on. Those books are fine and well, and I enjoy them as much as anyone, but I think IOBCT turns that type of science writing on its head. It’s so, so much better.

I can’t be the only person who takes pictures of book excerpts, right

What I really like about IOBCT, and Hamblin’s writing style in general, is that it is critical as absolute hell. I don’t want to give away too much about the book, but one of his main “arguments,” if you want to call it that, is that it’s hard to answer questions like the aforementioned because our body isn’t really composed of disparate parts; in other words, everything affects everything else. You can answer questions about why men don’t have nipples, but to really answer answer the question, it behooves you to also talk about the greater picture — think evolutionary biology, for example — but then also why you’re wondering that question in the first place — think gender norms and the societal commentary therein. The tangents have tangents, but these tangential asides are imperative to understand the answer (and the implication(s) for the question in the first place).

With me still?

It’s a little messy and complicated, but hey, that’s the human body. That’s the human condition.  

The crux of the book is the idea of agnotology, and hot damn, is the idea of agnotology ever relevant in today’s political (and social, and environmental, and health) climates. Have some fun, and go google “agnotology” and then google “agnotology + Trump.” You’ll see what I mean. The book explores lots of cultural hot topics, like why is that so many people take copious amounts of vitamins and supplements, when the science again and again shows that most people absolutely don’t need them? Or why we should (not) avoid preservatives, “just to play it safe”? Or the efficacy or utility of taking probiotics, the nutritional (de)merits of consuming eggs instead of oatmeal, or the skewed thinking (and the history that leads us to believe) that we can somehow “boost” our immune system. These ideas — many of which are so ingrained in our society — exist for a reason, even if they’re scientifically pretty bunk. It’s willful, perpetuated ignorance, and when you begin thinking about the agnotology concept not just in our “post-truth” political environment (which is tragic, don’t get me wrong) but also in terms of our health — what we willfully do or do not do to or with our bodies — it becomes pretty scary, if not nefarious.

We have one body, kids. All our decisions (or non-decisions, as it were) matter.

I could make some tenuous connection to the above paragraph, but I won’t; I’m really just giving your eyes a break from text blocks. (from a 1/7 training run).

There’s a lot of applicable ideas to the world of running, racing, and training, too, if you think about it. Just like anyone else in any other activity, we runners do things a certain way for a certain reason, whether it’s because “science” tells us that it’s optimal, because it’s rooted in a tradition that would be heretical to break, or some other combinative reason therein. When we begin to pull the veil back on “science” and see that the “studies” and “research” that purport that wearing compression socks will make you faster, or that drinking a “recovery drink” after every.single.run will help you get some fitness #gainz, and the like, we can begin to see that nothing is as tidy and clear-cut as it seems. Even the most critical amongst us can and are duped.   

If you’re looking for a great read that’s both entertaining and informative — Hamblin’s writing is a little confusing initially, but it’ll grow on you — I can’t recommend If Our Bodies Could Talk enough.

You will be pissed after you finish this book, but you’ll be pissed with conviction and, importantly, for good reason.

2017: the annual report

2017: the annual report

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At the start of 2017, I was about 16 months postpartum and fresh off November marathon and half marathon PRs, records that had taken a good three years (and getting pregnant again) before finally falling. For the first time in a long time, I decided to forego a spring marathon in the interest of doing short stuff. In essence, for the better part of the last decade, I had convinced myself that I was/am more of a marathoner than anything, that the discomfort from running 26.2 as fast as I could was more bearable than doing the same for 13.1, 6.2, or god forbid 3.1.

The stories we tell ourselves, or hey, let’s call a spade a spade and qualify it for what it is — the limitations we impose on ourselves — seem to have a way of becoming self-fulfilling prophecies. For years, I had all but purposely shied away from racing, much less training for, short distances because I was convinced that those distances just weren’t in my wheelhouse because anytime I did them, it just wasn’t enjoyable. Racing any of the PA races with my team was never an option simply because I never felt I was fast enough to do anything productive, lest I forget that I was always training for a marathon and always told myself that I “wasn’t in half, 5k, 10k, or (insert any other non-marathon-distance) shape.”

At any rate, I don’t know why I had decided that a spring 2017 marathon would be an unwise route for me to take — if memory serves, the only time in recent history when I haven’t done a spring marathon was in the throes of pregnancy — but in doing so, it left me with a gap to fill. I felt I was far enough along postpartum to begin pressing things a bit more earnestly, so going after the shorter and arguably harder non-marathon distances seemed to make a lot of sense at the time. Something unbelievable happened, too: I actually enjoyed non-marathon races. It wasn’t until after halfway through the year that I’d get back into the marathon, and it was in that opposing world where I spent most of my time training for the second part of the year.

When I talk about 2017, I can rattle off lots of statistics:

  • 2,501 miles run (not a distance PR, but just shy of the 2,56x from 2014);
  • several PRs (5k twice, 10k twice, 5 mile, marathon, XC races);
  • winning a couple races (SIB baby mama 10k, Hearts and Soles 10k, East Bay 510k);
  • running new-to-me distances/races (XC);
  • and having several non-racing or non-mileage-focused experiences that were still very meaningful (pacing SRM; spectating at BSIM, IM Santa Rosa, and my eldest’s first tri; participating in a Hoka Women Who Fly weekend; the tons and tons of stroller runs; and bike-stroller run-ride commutes with my kids).

I’ll be the first to admit that all that stuff matters to me, but when I think about my 2017, the connective thread between all of it is the community in which this sport enables me to immerse myself. It’s the community that made taking the plunge to do different stuff — stuff that I wouldn’t otherwise be so keen to do — more feasible, a welcome change of both literal and metaphorical pace. There was a time in my life when I’d sign up for a race; show up and do the thing; and then go home, both when I lived in Chicago and since moving to the Bay Area.

My 2017 was basically the polar opposite.

It’s the community in this sport — and the so many people with whom I got to spend time, train, and race alongside — that just makes me cheshire like a damn fool when I think about my running in 2017. Sure, notching personal bests (and working my ass off to get myself to a place where I can do that) is important and enjoyable, but the people, man. The people are where it’s at in this sport. 

Rather than belabor every lowlight and highlight of the 2500 miles from 2017, I think the more appropriate way to adequately express what I’m talking about — why this community thing meant so much to me in 2017 — is to show you.

A lot of my 2017 running, usually about 25-30 miles a week, looked like this, with A on her bike and G in the stroller. Run- and ride-commuting to school 4x a week was one of A’s best ideas in kindergarten.
big group training runs were the bread and butter of many weekend morning runs for me in the first part of the year. (shamelessly screenshot from Strava)

 

having Chicago training partner John in town for a day, even if it meant running 10+ miles in the pouring rain, was definitely memorable. We trained together for Boston back in the day through a pretty rough Chicago winter, so it was like old times.

 

the first PA race in 2017, my first 5k in forever, the first race of the year, and destroying a five-year-old PR by chasing after my teammates (Sam here) was a fantastic way to start the year, even if it meant running a bizarre course. (PC: CT)

 

she.is.beautiful is one event I look forward to each year, and for the third consecutive year, I ran pushing one of my girls in the ‘baby mama’ division. I love this pic because you can see me mid-holler for my teammate, Julie, who’s about to go on to cinch 2nd in the 5k. (PC: Dave)

 

SIB is a guaranteed positive-vibes meet-up with lots of friends who inspire me daily: here, with Paula and her youngest son, as well as Meg and her daughter. (PC: Dave)

 

inspiration abounds at SIB, and the feel-good vibes from this race last for weeks for me. Incredibly, these pictures don’t even feature all of the Wolfpack racers from that morning. I love pregnant Janet in these pictures. (PC: Lisa/Wolfpack)

 

It had been many years since I had last raced an open 10k, and I was so happy to see a familiar Wolfpack face, Greg, at the Heart and Soles race (on yet another bizarre race course).

 

From within the first half mile, maybe quarter mile, at the Stow Lake Stampede 5k, you can see that I’m already trying to work alongside my teammates Sam and Claire. It’s pack running at its finest. (PC: Wolfpack Running Club)

 

going down to Big Sur is always a treat, and it was a lot of fun to be with Meredith as we watched Austin (visiting from PDX) finish his marathon and to see Robin (not pictured) and her team finish their relay.

 

I didn’t spend much time on trails in 2017, but when I was there, it was even better than I remembered. The views are always worth the work, and as with most things in life, the work is always more enjoyable when shared amongst friends.

 

And speaking of friends, sharing Monument Peak with Connie, Meg, and Char was so sweet. (Miss you, Char! Move back!) It was very cool to share with them such a special (and beautiful) place. This was from our first foray up.

 

Getting comfortable with the discomfort of the shorter stuff took several trials, but chasing friends and teammates (yet again) made it work: this time at the Marin Memorial 10k, and yet again, chasing Sam was to my benefit. (PC: Tamalpa RC)

 

an upside to running an inaugural half where I grew up, when I was visiting family in Ohio: my sister showed up with G and her youngest kiddo to cheer late in the race, and I ran into a friend from high school mid-race, seeing him for the first time since we graduated 10+ years ago, hence the mid-scream face here. It was a disastrous race for me, but not all running memories are about the times we post. (PC: Ben)

 

sharing a local race with my sister when I was in OH was awesome; she ran the 2 mile race with her BIL, while I ran the 5 and raced against a bunch of high schoolers, having a blast in the process. I can think of two times (ever) in my life wherein we’ve run together/at the same event. MOAR plz

 

one of my fav weekends each year is SF Marathon weekend, in part because I love the race and because I honestly just love doing the ambassador gig. It’s always so much fun to connect with runners who travel from all over the world to come race in SF, and race weekend is one of the only times I see many of my SMA buddies.

 

running into so many other local runners at TSFM makes the race so memorable each year, whether they’re also racing it or pacing it, as Sunny was here. (PC: Sunny)

 

after running with Chai and Saurabh so much during the first part of the year, during their IM Santa Rosa/my SF training, it was very cool to be able to spectate for their marathon at IM SR (and to see Saurabh cross the finish line). perhaps unsurprisingly, Strava told me they were my two biggest training partners in 2017.

 

I never ran XC in high school, but I’ve heard from so many people how fun it is. I finally got to experience that in 2017, and in doing so, I learned that XC (here, in Santa Cruz) is an entirely different beast. XC racing is hard AF! …but man is it enjoyable. the camaraderie is fantastic. the scenery? yea, also tolerable.

 

it was nice to finally be able to pace a race (for the first time in ’17 and maybe for the first time since giving birth in ’15? maybe?) and to return to the Santa Rosa Marathon to do so. being able to support others in their goals is deeply gratifying, and cheering on friends (Anil, Connie, and Meg here) in their big unicorn pursuits was just the coolest.

 

the SRM was a great day for my friends, and I was so happy to have such unfettered, front-row access to witness it all. I still find it hilarious that somehow the best, the only, nice group pic we got post-race –wherein we were celebrating Connie’s first sub-3 and 2nd F OA, Meg’s solid race, and everyone else’s experiences — is in front of the honey buckets. (PC: Connie’s husband)

 

I was/am so proud of her. Doing a tri was initially her idea, but the running was hard (and not enjoyable) for her. She dug deep and post-finish was greeted with her own little cheering section. She inspires me more than she’ll ever know or understand.

 

The one and only time I’ve ever bought a race reg off Groupon — and idiotically, it was for a half marathon very shortly after pacing at SRM and on a “the Bay Area is broiling” type of summer day. It made for a lackluster race, but the post-race shenanigans with so many teammates and friends (and finally getting to meet Angela and Jen) made the otherwise ‘eh’ experience completely positive.

 

This pic from the Golden Gate Park XC open reminds me that every starting line — whether it’s at the beginning of a race or at the beginning of a regular ol’ training run — is full of promise and opportunity. You’re never alone. (PC: Craig)

 

Taking a momentary break from PA races to periodically do a local race — here, Represent Running’s East Bay 510k — was a good way to connect with other (non-PA) runners and to promote our team. Lisa was lead bike for both the 5k and 10k, Andy ran and won the 5k, and Ida and I ran the 10k (and I got to break tape for the first time ever, which was unexpected and admittedly pretty cool!). I unfortunately hadn’t been able to do a single Represent Running race all year, so I was so glad to make the trek up to Emeryville to support a race organization that I appreciate.

 

Finally getting to do a RR race (the East Bay 510k) also meant that I could finally see many of my RR social media ambassador buddies whom I otherwise rarely see, like Christina and Brian. Between these guys and my WRC teammates, it made for a really fun race morning.

 

I hit the jackpot when Janet moved back to SJ and to (basically) my neighborhood. Early morning training runs became immensely more enjoyable (and much more documented!). (PC: Janet)

 

Winning a spot on Hoka’s Women Who Fly weekend was kinda otherworldly — I thought it was a scam! — and the entire trip remains somewhat of an enigma to me. The QT that I got to share with these other WWF recipients, in the backdrop of beautiful Santa Barbara, was indescribable.

 

Even when racing blew — and it did sometimes (here, at the Clarksburg HM) — in 2017 I made it a point to remember that there was always reason to smile and be grateful. Even if shit just sucks, simply being able to do this stuff is a gift. (PC: Impala Racing IG)

 

The last XC race of the season — Champs at Golden Gate Park, though on a different course than the GGP Open — was the beginning of the end of my ’17 racing exploits. Even during the height of all the nonsense surrounding my liver at the end of the year, when I was seriously questioning just about everything, I wanted to show up for my team and be there for them. (PC: WRC)

 

I started working under Lisa for CIM, and she challenged my running in ways that I couldn’t have done on my own. Celebrating with her and Oscar (whom she also coached) post-CIM, where we both posted PRs and ran strong races, was yet another reminder to me of how lucky I am to have found such a such a fantastic sport filled with such gracious and genuinely lovely people.

I’m not completely sure what I’m chasing after in 2018, at least not yet. I’m inclined to focus my year in much the same way as I did in 2017, by doing the shorter stuff in the first half and the marathon (SF, CIM) in the second half, but we’ll see.

What I do know is that I’ll be in good company again this year, and that in and of itself is pretty damn exciting.

Consider this your standing invitation to join in the fun anytime. 

—

(And if you’re looking for the complete 2017 racing index, here it is: Reach for a Star 5k; she.is.beautiful baby mama 10k, pushing G; Heart & Soles 10k; Stow Lake Stampede 5k; Marin Memorial 10k; Matchstick HM; North Canton YMCA 5 miler; The SF Marathon; Santa Cruz XC Challenge; pacing 3:33 at the Santa Rosa Marathon; Race to the End of Summer HM; Golden Gate Park XC Open; East Bay 510k (10k); Clarksburg HM; XC Champs; CIM).