I'm a Clydesdale

I’m a Clydesdale. Despite years of running, I am still over 200 pounds. Running has never meant to be a weight loss activity. It never will be for me. My preference for doughnuts, pizza, and Skittles will make weight loss near impossible without adding regular strength training. My inherently larger frame is the result of long bones, meatier thighs, and an overabundance of body hair. Regardless, I’m a Clydesdale. I belong to a classification of male runners who stand at 200+ pounds. I fluctuate between 210 and 215. In the modeling world this is equivalent to being plus-sized. Depending on who you consult, plus-size is either a compliment or an insult. The female equivalent, Athena, typically reserved for women 150+ pounds, is named after the goddess of wisdom. Some endurance competitions, such as half marathons, marathons, and triathlons, include OPTIONAL weight-based categories for men and women, in addition to age and gender based categories. To be truthful, at 6’4” and 215ish, I’m not overweight or obese. I have not had to endure the burden and societal ostracism some people have experienced. Over the past few years, I’ve had to re-evaluate my own views on body image and weight to develop an understanding that is more open-minded. Women have greater pressures to-look-a-certain-way than men, some of which is more internal than external. Ingrained in the American female psyche is the pursuit and expectation of physical perfection. We all know that only a few lucky individuals who have hit the genetic lottery can become the standard bearers. Yet, we continually beat ourselves in the gym or run ourselves ragged to achieve this. Then we, ostracize and Internet-hate those who can. “Fit-shaming” is just as negative as “fat-shaming”, as it represents a maladaptive internal self-examination. Clydesdale. I want to own this label. You see, the image I have of Clydesdales invokes visions of marching through snowy fields hauling a lager cart with pomp and civility. It’s not a frolic, sashay, or romp. It’s a full-on swagger by larger-than-life animals who command respect through their presence and control. Only the bald eagle, and its resplendent grandeur, better represents Americana. I hope to someday finally win a race based on “mass” class. Then, I will become a voice for the underrepresented classes in our society who feel weighed down by stereotyping and everyone’s presuppositions about heftiness. Until that day, I will gladly gallop down my local sidewalks with pride knowing I’m in a category all my own.