Curled over my laptop screen, I watched in awe as one of my favorite runners, Allison Ostrander, debuted in the steeplechase–a race that requires athletes to run three thousand meters around a track while hurtling over barriers and leaping into water pits. I have always gained incredible inspiration from Ostrander’s profound tenacity and mental and physical strength. Yet another, more quiet voice inside me also feels a likeness to Allie because of her size: Ostrander and I are both smaller in height than the average person, a characteristic that could daunt us as we stand on the line under the shadows of our competitors.
As I watched Allie sail effortlessly over the hurdles and race confidently between them, the source of this quiet voice emerged into the forefront of my mind. I initially solely focused on Allie’s obvious petite frame in comparison to the competition. But as this part of my mind began to filter my perspective, I noticed the range of body types and frames that ran next to her. People of all different builds—stocky, short, tall, slender—were excelling with equal success. It dawned on me that this is not unique to this particular track race or meet, but rather, holds true for all track races and events. And why is that? In a sport so determined by the ability to use one’s body effectively, wouldn’t there be an advantageous body type? The answer is rooted in the fact that the fundamental aspect of successful track athletes depends on their overall strength and health, rather than particular size or shape.
In understanding this, I began to reflect on how track and field has bettered my own relationship regarding body image. Before running competitively, I thought of health through a lens warped by society. I attributed thinness, and the corresponding meager meals, periodic cardio exercise, and low numbers on the scale as signs of good health.
Track dramatically altered this perspective, replacing the goal of “good health” with getting ever more faster. In order to run your fastest, you must be your healthiest and strongest. Suddenly, an array of health habits was cast under new lighting: food became fuel for successful runs and for muscle replenishment after workouts and lifts, and an increasing number on the scale became a reflection of the muscle development I craved
I began to hold general health with higher regard: weak bones or insufficient energy equated to slower races and increased susceptibility to stress fractures. Soon the threat of missing practices, runs, or a season due to injury weakened the voice that fought feebly to restrict fuel and skip recovery days. Overall, track and field makes it clear that society’s prescribed goal of achieving “health” through a thin body shape is mutually exclusive with the goal of optimizing strength and fitness, valid attributions to health.