I Move London Relay – The Finale 5K

This guy, Danny Bent, had this pretty cool idea to break the world record for the longest relay race. The previous record was 5639.6 Km in 2012, achieved by Keep On Running. The #IMoveLondon attempt was to hit 4000miles over the course of the month. It’s a pretty sweet idea that needed a lot of involvement from a lot of people. Perfect then, is the idea for getting people involved, inspired and encouraged to get moving, especially the party pace segments held each week, making the race really accessible to most people.

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Danny Bent with the celebratory Pale Ale and Lager

Bent teamed up with Asics, whose brand philosophy is to empower your personal movement so that you get the best out of life. Asics really believe in the power of movement to connect your body and mind even when it’s not easy and it gets tough, they really believe in the power of movement. Naturally then, these guys were the ideal sponsors for helping host, launch and support such a mammoth challenge.

All funds raised were dedicated to 3 charities in which Asics and Danny Bent believe in: The Running Charity, which helps homeless people by empowering them through running; Sported, which helps young people have safe spaces to play sports; and Laureus, another charity based around helping people through the power of sport. As of right now, £46, 981 has been raised so far to help these fantastic charities to keep empowering people through movement and sports.

The final 5k party stage happened on Sunday 29th July at 6pm. It was a riot, but in a good way. It was the kind of riot for a good cause, celebrating and not causing anything close to being considered a “violent clash” kind of riot. It was the kind of riot that gets you hyped and excited to be part of a crowd that is doing something for a good cause and all the while having fun. Starting at City Hall we ran a 5k loop along the Thames, across the Millennium bridge and back down the Thames bank to cross Tower Bridge to complete the loop.

There were some sound smash ups from multiple speakers and people dancing whilst we gathered along the route. It really did feel a bit like a flash mob of happy runners making a lot of noise via whoops, cheers and bellows of ‘I MOVE LONDON” throughout the crowd. I have to say I left feeling really great and full of smiles from the sheer fun of running as a huge crowd taking over wherever we ran. I hope for someone who saw the sea of blue t-shirts flooding the streets around the Thames that evening and felt inspired to get involved with getting moving. It really is an incredibly simple yet empowering thing this just moving malarkey.

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As a part of the Backpackers running crew we went along to be the official tail walkers and back pacers so that everyone who took part or wanted to take part could do so and feel included. We made sure no-one was left behind. This is the whole crew philosophy at Backpackers, and there’s a Facebook page if you have any questions. Come along, Thursdays at 18:45 Asics on Regent Street, London.

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Dumping “Body Image” in Return for “Body Love”

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Diet culture is everywhere. It is pretty difficult to avoid, especially when dental adverts are colluding success rates with weight loss rates, and big influencers like Kim Kardashian are partnering with companies like Flat Tummy Co. to promote appetite suppressing products to their hoards of followers. It is difficult to believe that being in a body that doesn’t fit the beauty ideal of slim, toned and strong is OK. It’s hard to believe that you too are an acceptable body or that you can run a marathon.

Bryony Gordon and Jayda Seza ran the marathon this year in their underwear to show that runner’s bodies come in many different shapes and sizes. Being a different size to the bountifully pushed ideal does not mean you can’t enjoy physical activity, that you can’t be strong and most of all that you can’t be healthy. There are so many brilliant body positivity activists now showcasing that you can be “bigger” and healthy. There is a wave of activists fighting back against the body fascism and fat phobia in the name of “health”.

Since recovering from my eating disorder admittedly with a helping push from my meds increasing my weight in a way that was out of my control, I learned to relinquish any form of “control” over my body. I knew this time around on Quetiapine that it worked for me, but for it to keep on working for me I had to stay on it. Without it I relapse, plain and simple. A toss-up occurred between keeping a sense of control over my “recovered” weight and remaining mentally unwell, or relinquishing such control and giving the Quetiapine a real chance to work in the longer term. This was a very scary time for me. I have spent a decade of my life at war with my body, trying to control it and living in the safety confines of my eating disorder. Suddenly, recovery took a whole new turn – I wasn’t only maintaining a “healthy” weight, I was letting this medication cause havoc with my appetite and metabolism. If I had any hope of maintaining some stability with my moods though, this was it. Having tried most other medications suitable for my illness that this was the one that worked if I let it – and by let it I mean staying on it regardless of the weight gain. I made the only decision I could if I wanted to really start building any sort of future for myself. I stayed on the medication.

I learned a lot during this time. I learned that being well in a bigger body was definitely the right decision. My fitness journey into running, climbing and falling in love with movement, in addition to my studies in anatomy and physiology have caused a complete dimensional shift, and ultimately an entirely different view for me, on what body image is.

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Although I am no longer a skinny, my stomach has an extra padding of fat as opposed to the almost concave structure of previous years, and my thighs touch for the first time in my life. I have boobs, which are great although still slight, and it is easier to catch myself at an angle wherein which I have a double chin on show. I can shake my arms, and they wibble a little, and I have speckled cellulite over my thighs and bum when I tense. Speaking of which, I still have absolutely no bum. I need a larger size of clothes than I ever have previously yet still, no bum, and you know what? I am the most comfortable I have ever been with my body.

Yes, it looks a certain way in pictures and mirrors – but really, my body is not a picture. My body was not made solely to look a certain way. My body was made to function, to breathe, contract, relax, move, jump, run and skip for joy. My body lets me enjoy the senses of living be they the smell of fresh bread or dog shit on my shoe. My body brings me enjoyment in food, and digests it pretty well as energy in order to continue functioning as the amazing, complex piece of biological machinery that I am. Not only do I function, but my body allows for me to have a mind and a conscience. My body allows for emotions, and it fights diseases so I can still keep on enjoying experiences and living healthily. My body is not a picture. My body is so much more than that.

The sum of all this? I value my body more for what it can do, where it can take me, and the experiences it can give me. I’m no longer so hung up or concerned with looking a particular way, but more in doing particular things. Sure sometimes I have a momentary dip in confidence, sometimes I catch myself iterating diet culture messages of too much, need to lose weight, pain is gain and all that tom fuckery – but my choice in responding is to try to check in with myself when I notice these thoughts cropping up. I remind myself I am more than my mirror image and always will be.

I want to climb walls, and climb them better. I want to gain strength and resilience, and run all these races that I’ve signed up for. I want to dance, and move, and shake and enjoy what my body makes achievable for me every single day. I want to celebrate my strengths, and work on enjoying my body in more ways than I can possibly imagine. I can eat wonderful foods thanks to my body. I can conquer feats I never before thought would be possible for me like The London Marathon. I can have sex and enjoy all the sensations that brings. I can get myself around every day, and my legs do a fucking fantastic job of getting me around London on my bike. My arms do a great job at allowing me to do all the things I enjoy:  writing, reading, playing the ukulele really badly, climbing, eating, drinking, and in a hap hazardous way they contribute to my atrocious list of dance moves that I like to bust out when the party’s right. My eyes, they let me see all these beautiful sights that make me thankful to see everything I can: nature, skylines, sunrises and tropical storms. I can smell the warmth of the rain, and the freshness of cut grass and fresh coffee. The complexity of these joys cannot be captured in a photo or a mirror. Life is richer than that and so am I, and so are you.

My awkward smile may hint at the joys I have been experiencing, and my over excited crazy photos may capture a moment, but how my body looks, fuck that. It’s not important. I am healthy. I am capable, and I am taking advantage of those biological wonders that nature has blessed me with. So it no longer matters that I don’t fit into my skinny jeans, and it no longer matters that my arms aren’t spindly spaghetti features. My face is no longer structured by emaciation and malnourishment, and my waist is no longer so tiny it’s to die for, quite literally. My body is giving me life, and it is up to me to capture and cherish that fact.

So for as far as my body image goes, it’s not about image; it’s about sensations, feelings, experiences and love. Instead I will say that my body image is largely irrelevant but my body love is engaging with a pattern of exponential growth.

So there it is. I fucking love my body – and I bet yours is pretty darn fabulous too regardless of how it looks.

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