Thank goodness for Bryony Gordon. As a person currently taking baby steps towards re- igniting s relationship with exercise, Bryony’s truthful instagram feed featuring several pictures of herself gleefully running great distances wearing nothing but a bra and pants (proper pants) is a tranquil rock pool in an expanse of lycra-infested waters. ‘I’m considered obese,’ she tells me, through mouthfuls full of a ‘pretty good’ sandwich when we talk on the phone. She apologises profusely for eating during our conversation. ‘I’m so sorry. I haven’t eaten since breakfast and I’m starving.’ Bryony babes, if there’s one thing you never have to apologise to me for – it’s eating. I reassure her.
‘I get all these comments saying you’re glorifying obesity,’ she says of her Marathon campaign in which she ran the 26 miles wearing only her underwear. ‘I’m like, what? By running a marathon?’ Any criticism of Bryony irks me (I’ve loved her since I read about her hilarious sexcapades in The Wrong Knickers at the age of 23) but this one makes me both angry and desperately sad. Since when was the staggering achievements of a woman over-ruled by one insignificant detail about the way she looked? Thanks for that consumerist patriarchy. At the age of 36 (she’s now 38), following encounters of various mental health issues including addiction, OCD and bulimia, Bryony had never been interested in exercise.
‘I only exercised when it was obsessive to make me look thinner. I exercised aesthetically to make me look a certain way,’ she remembers. ‘I felt like it was the norm to always think my body was shit.’ With a relationship with food that ‘wasn’t great’, Bryony grew up using food for comfort – like so many of us – and when she was struck by a bout of uncontrollable alopecia at the age of 19, she sought control in another area of her appearance; her body. ‘I lost a lot of weight very quickly and no one really noticed. I would sneak of a lot.’ My literary heroine is reluctant to discuss her illness in detail – a testament to the painful sting that eating disorders leave behind, even years after they’ve supposedly vanished.
I feel awful asking her to talk so candidly, I’m acutely aware that not everyone is as comfortable as I am with discussing that time they nearly died with a perfect stranger. And why the hell should they be? Nevertheless, Bryony gets it. ‘It’s important. People talking about their recovery and that sense that you are not alone is key and integral. Then you feel a kinship.’
In the age of Instagram fame, I must admit that the number of ‘recovered’ eating disorder bloggers suddenly finding their comfort through exercise makes me antsy. I hope – with every grain of my being – that they are truly free of the toxic, regimented thoughts that keep them unwell and gain genuine fulfilment and enjoyment through keeping their body active. I pray they are able to stop when they’ve sprained an ankle, or are achingly exhausted. I hope they don’t believe that exercise isn’t worth doing unless they are fuelled by the calorie equivalent of half a carrot. I only issue these cautions because – if exercise was #life – I sure as hell couldn’t promise I wouldn’t do any (all) of the above. Thankfully it seems as though most of the eating disorder recovery community online are thrilled they can now enjoy a genuine and healthy relationship with exercise. Most importantly, they are honest with themselves – and their followers – should this no longer be the case.
In her new book, Eat Drink Run, the writer documents her journey from zero to London marathon, and beyond, with the aim of inspiring the fitness-phobes to pick up their trainers and get their bodies moving. If only a little bit. Having been open about her eating disorder in previous books, I ask if she’s ever concerned that the running trail could be a dangerous one. How does she keep it in check? ‘Absolutely not,’ she assures me. ‘Now, I do it for the right reasons.
‘If you exercise for weight-loss or aesthetic reasons you are never going to enjoy it. You’ll never get where you want to get or look the way you wanna look because the moment you get to one goal, another one will come in. It’s pointless and a really negative use of energy.’ Instead of trying to manipulate her (already sexy af) size 16-18 body, Bryony’s joy in exercise comes via ‘mental clarity’. ‘I don’t do a HIIT class because I want to lose weight,’ she says, ‘I do it because I am going to sweat loads and get rid of a load of anxiety.
‘You remind yourself that you are alive [when running] and focus on breathing, focus on staying alive. You start to feel good and you think – I did that myself. I didn’t have to go to the pub or anything.’ And now that the Stella magazine columnist is exercising for the ‘right’ reasons, the endorphins are no longer an obsession.
‘I stop. I know when my body is telling me to stop. There are days I can run for miles and miles but days when I can’t do anything. That’s fine too.’ The ‘recovering addict’ (her own words) has spoken bravely about her battles with alcohol addiction helping a whole network of struggling people to find comfort and hope in her relatable story. By now, her self-awareness when it comes to emotional cruxes is pretty stellar. She chimes: ‘If I am going to search for highs, better that I am doing something that’s good for me rather than fucking me up.’
The fact that Bryony has gone from exercising for tight abs and ass, to finding joy in physical activity is – as far as I am concerned – the ultimate #fitspo (the only time I will ever use that non-word in a non-ironic manner). Having tentatively wandered back into the gym after a four year hiatus, her example stands at the end of a sweaty tunnel as the ultimate prize. As I experiment with different classes and make peace with spending an hour moving my body and not sweating into my eyeballs (it still counts as exercise…who’s have thought it!?), I am faced with the heartbreaking extent of my f**ked up teenage relationship with exercise.
Like Bryony, I was never a sporty kid. I twisted my ankle every sports day (mysterious) and clung onto my one doctor’s note from 2011 that told of a ‘strained tendon’ in my left leg, excusing me from every P.E class. My tendons are fine, btw. I was always picked last in Rounders games and I still can’t swim properly. I have never enjoyed exercise. But according to Bryony, I can definitely run a marathon. ‘You can do it,’ she assures me – and everyone out there who might ‘think they can’t do exercise’.
‘And you can do it relatively quickly. About 18 months ago I couldn’t run at all, and I have just run a marathon. We’re brought up in this country to think if you’re not good at something you shouldn’t do it at all. I wasn’t great at sport as a kid but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it at all. Just because you’re not Paula Radcliffe doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to run at all.’
It’s this philosophy that forms the basis for Bryony’s initiative ‘Mental Health Mates’ which sees masses of fans signi up for group exercise classes in a bid to offer both peer support and un-intimidating exercise for those with mental health issues. The campaigner is especially enthusiastic about an upcoming yoga event especially catered to people who are nervous about exercise. ‘A lot of public health campaigns are run on fear. We need to encourage rather than frighten,’ she argues.
‘It’s about gentle steps and encouragement. Instead of telling people what they can’t do, focus on what we can do.’
Bryony’s philosophy makes perfect sense; if you take up exercise out of self-hatred and a desperate desire to change your body, it’s never going to work. Inevitably, workouts are tainted with shame, guilt and hopelessness. You quit within a few months having spent squillions on gym membership, and you hate yourself even more for having abandoned your one route to rock-hard abs (and assumed happiness). And so the cycle continues…
Hence, Bryony and model Jada Sezer’s genius idea to complete a full 26-mile marathon in their underwear, showcasing their wonderful, real, womanly bodies to the masses. Proof that exercise has f**k all to do with what you look like.
‘It was a way of showing people that they are capable of anything. You don’t have to look a certain way,’ she explains. But having admitted that she’s classified as obese (although how we’ve even come to that conclusion is a whole other article) was she nervous to run around London half naked?
‘I didn’t feel self conscious,’ she answers. ‘I’m more comfortable in my knickers and bra than if you put me in some lavish frock with loads of make-up on. That is when I am most self-conscious as I don’t feel myself.’
Look to Bryony’s instagram account and it would seem as though the Mind award winner has Kardashian level of confidence. Her feed is a life-affirming celebration of the female body and mind – in all its imperfect beauty. The message is loud and clear; there are so many shining elements that make each individual sparkle. We are all beautiful, just as we are. The only ugliness is the thoughts that tell us different.
But decades of self-criticism aren’t easy to overcome. Speaking from experience, you can have all the therapy and know all the diet culture conspiracy theories, but if you’ve hated yourself for long enough – it sticks to your subconscious like cement. ‘Confidence is a trick,’ Bryony admits. ‘I get those feelings the whole f**king time. I ‘m not like “I love my body”, I tell those feelings to go away.’ For those teetering on the starting line of the escape route from self-destruction, take a leaf out of Bryony’s book – consider her words rocket fuel to carry you through to the peaceful, self-appreciation that you well and truly deserve.
‘Frankly, I can’t waste any more energy hating on myself. I’m done with it. It’s partly for the sake of my child, but also I appreciate my body as I’ve learnt that my body can do things I never thought it could. ‘Also,’ she continues, ‘it’s a big f**k you to all of those thoughts I had over the years.’ Hear that, thoughts? F**k you, man.
Eat, Drink, Run: How I Got Fit Without Going Too Mad, £16.99 is published by Headline and is out now.
