Running this last week was a dream. It suddenly got easier by Friday (but I was on a treadmill, so it was like finding fool's gold). However, for a short 30 minutes in that tiny Maryland hotel fitness room, I remembered what it was like to feel great about running, and that was all I needed to re-ignite my motivation. I ran in(to) three different states this past week/end: New York, Maryland, and New Jersey (or, as some call it, West New York). A colleague's wedding in Baltimore had me sightseeing around Fell's Point and the Inner Harbor on Friday and Saturday, while Sunday took me slowly bopping across the George Washington Bridge (what a view on foot!) into NJ, a mere mile away from NYC over the Hudson.
And let me just say, that's a big-aces river. I mean, it really is something in the old days to have to "forge" a river. Lost an ox on the way over, yeah? Well, duh. That river's a beast. And people who we call "jumpers"? Yeah, I'm amazed they don't chicken out on the way to the railing. Hello, you're up HIGH. In fact, there are a bunch of PSA signs telling the public how to spot a jumper and how to help them out. Kind of creepy, but kind of nice to see my tax dollars at work.
I've been reminiscing these past few weeks. Getting back into the swing of things has brought up a lot of memories and revelations, but I'd like to take a moment to talk about something that is new. Potentially embarrassing, but definitely confusing.
I've mentioned that I've moved into a new neighborhood, and it's been interesting getting to know the culture. People are so friendly. There are a lot of instances I find similar to running around the Bay Area in CA, but some things are different. For example, in CA, I'd go running and no one would look twice. Usually because there are at least 5 other morning runners out with you, a few dog-walkers, and perhaps a gaggle of cyclists. Well, in Dominican NYC, there's a least 5 men sitting on my stoop, and all of them are gaggling at me. Because I'm the only lady with a matching pink running outfit designed to minimize chafing, for some reason people stare. Sometimes they comment. As in, "Que linda, bonita. Adonde vas?" or "Tell me you must be married, mmm-MMMH!" or "Hey, can I come running wit choo?"
Asking if they can join me in my workout is probably the most baffling part. I mean, I'm sorry, but here we are at 8am, and from the looks of your saggy pants and neck full of rosary beads, I don't think you're going to be able to keep up, mister. I'm afraid you might (a) trip over your pants and perhaps (b) get whipped in the face by the Virgin Mary hanging around your neck. And then who'd be liable? I just can't risk that. Plus, let's be real. I know that you'd probably only want to run behind me the whole time. So, let's not confuse your interest in fitness with your interest in my derriere.
And that's the real issue for me: the fine line between a compliment and objectification. I've grown up feeling embarrassed about the way it looks to be exercising. In my hometown culture, there's a fitness mindset. Everyone is fit (or on their way to getting fit) and so it's potentially embarrassing to be bobbling along during your workout, huffing and puffing and getting red in the face, limbs akimbo while some 50-year old whizzes past you with a cheery hello and more bounce in their senior-age step than you had in your teens. But from the looks of it, you're working towards a goal - there's an ulterior motive at work. So, you keep on huffing and puffing, and assuming the people who call out to you on the street are encouraging you on your way to achievement.
In NYC, I go out running, huffing and puffing and getting red in the face, and my neighbors think that's sexy. Their cheery hellos are come-ons. The only ulterior motive at work here is one that relates directly to how I look. Which is so confusing. Because it's nice to receive recognition for practicing a healthy lifestyle - when the focus is on an internal trait like commitment, motivation, or dedication. But it's disarmingly uncomfortable to receive recognition for practicing a healthy lifestyle when the recognition is focused on exterior traits, like one's upper pectorals or glutes.
I ran around the track yesterday, rolling these thoughts over in my mind, and I realized that a compliment, when best-utilized, is sincere in intention; it is designed to enhance the receiver's sense of self-worth and feelings about themselves. But a compliment disguised as a come-on is objectification at its most volatile. It's design does not include concern for the subject's feelings, and in fact seems designed explicitly for the denial of the subject's humanity. When I go out running here and get whistled and hollered at, I don't believe the intention is to encourage me in my training, to draw attention to my dedication, to my ambition. I'm just a visual in a pink get-up, bouncing along in the early a.m. and the attention is on my other assets. And while I know it's just friendly commentary, it's very confusing. Because the more exposure I have to certain types of friendly commentary, the less I trust people's intentions.
So, what's a girl to do? These days, I just try not to make eye contact, or give a curt "thank you" while trying to maintain my pace and my dignity.
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