The internet is very concerned about my knees

Never read the comments… unless you’re seeking inspiration for your next Substack post

Over the weekend I wrote a piece for the Telegraph about being “fit but fat” after some new research came out about how useless and outdated BMI is as a health measure. 

(Oh and HELLO new Substack subscribers who’ve come here from the Telegraph, thus making my evil PR plan a success. You can find out where it all began here). 

Of course I knew that writing about this topic - especially when it was accompanied by photos of me running along the river in my most curve-enhancing activewear - would be controversial, so I was expecting a few spicy comments.  

I’m pretty thick-skinned (literally! HAHAHAHA, walked into that one didn’t I Graham) and in my previous life as an X Factor critic, Steve Brookstein called me “the spawn of Satan” so I can handle a bit of below-the-line debate. Even when it is about my thighs.

But it was still an interesting insight into how affronted swathes of the general public are by normal people putting themselves out there, exercising visibly. It’s just that this time, instead of a guy in a white van shouting “Keep it up fatty!” at me, I had hundreds of faceless keyboard warriors dissecting my body.

Some of them think I’m really fat. Some of them think I’m not fat at all. Some of them think I should stop exercising immediately because it will put a strain on my fat old knees. Some of them think I should exercise more, immediately. Some of them are faux-concerned that I could drop dead of a heart attack or cancer or fat old knees at any moment. Some of them think it’s wonderful and inspiring that I have become so active, and have wonderful and inspiring stories of their own. Some of them are worried about my diet, some of them are worried about my menstrual cycle. Some of them think I am smug. Oh, and some of them want to make sweet love to me because I have banging curves and a lovely (smug) smile.

This one’s for you, John 😘 (they were all called John)

Over on Facebook and Twitter, where there are no nice moderators, it was less of a friendly debate and more of a pile-on (someone called me a fat fuck and someone else brought Covid vaccines into it?). 

But the thing that people don’t consider, and the reason all this stuff can be such a barrier to being more active for so many people, is that reading comments like these, even if they’re about someone else, can be just like listening to our own internal monologues and worst fears. Because no matter how much we tell ourselves that it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, the evidence often points to the contrary. 

You tell yourself you’re too fat or unfit to exercise, that your body can’t handle it, that you look awful in your gym clothes, that you don’t know what you’re doing, that you might injure yourself, and that you don’t want people to see you. It all comes down to self-consciousness, but your loved ones tell you not to worry, you look great, and hey, you’ll feel better if you exercise!

So maybe you eventually pluck up the courage to do it. Best (and most likely) case scenario, nothing bad happens, you exercise, you feel pretty good, and next time you do it, you’re a little bit more confident. But unfortunately there’s always a tiny chance that someone will be a dick, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.

(Writing slightly obnoxious articles for national newspapers about doing it will definitely heighten the chances, though, FYI)  

But, and it’s hard to say this without sounding like an ill-equipped school counsellor, I promise the problem is always with them and not you.

Solid evidence: I was speaking to a very sporty man the other day - he was massaging my glutes at the time, actually - who said that he’s had rocks thrown at him while out running. 

PEOPLE. ARE. DICKHEADS. If they can’t find anything wrong with how you look, well, maybe they’ll just throw something at you instead.

Ignoring dickheads who confirm your worst fears might be difficult, so I think that getting to a point where the mental and physical benefits you reap from exercise outweigh any negativity has to be the thing to aspire to. 

The comments I received on my article show that, above all, there’s no general consensus about whether you are fat or ugly or annoying or stupid. Some people might think you are disgusting and pathetic but others will think you are gorgeous and incredible. I have learned that, should I ever visit Tunbridge Wells or Telford or Taunton, I’m just as likely to get laid as lynched.

It makes me feel fucking furious, though, that someone might read my article or this Substack and think “Cool! Maybe I could do that too!” but then be put off by fear of real world trolls.

This is why it’s so crucial to find safe spaces. I’ve written before about the importance of community for me when it comes to forming habits and finding accountability, but community can be even more essential when it comes to feeling safe - both on a practical level if running alone ever feels sketchy, and a confidence one.

Running clubs used to feel like they were only for the elite, but these days there are tons popping up for beginners and all-ability athletes, like Let’s Run Girls and Run Mummy Run.

Not to leave out the fellas, I also recently heard about Man V Fat Football, where men with a BMI over 27 or so can enjoy their favourite sport without fear of body-shaming.

I also find parkrun - oh god, here comes the parkrun fangirl again - to be an incredibly inclusive space, with no runner (or walker) ever left behind. If you’re not convinced, you could always coincidentally be in your local park at 9am on a Saturday and just watch, before perhaps plucking up the courage to join some time in the future. Hey, if you live anywhere near south east London, I’ll come with you - I’m serious!

As well as the new BMI research, there was also some stuff out this week about the mental health benefits of running. Scientists found that, when it comes to depression and anxiety, running can be as effective as prescription drugs - the only problem being, it’s a harder habit to form, especially as most depressed people find it tricky to just leap out of bed and lace up their ASICS. Throwing in a community element, though, by joining group running programmes, made all the difference when it came to forming habits.

This photo of me and my BFF is supposed to illustrate the mental health benefits of running but I realise we both look deranged

Although I’ve never experienced any lasting mental health issues - I’m far too easily-distracted to ever commit to being depressed, but I have had the odd panic attack - exercise has definitely become a form of self-medication for me. Unfortunately, as with any addiction, I no longer so actively notice that exercise makes me feel good, but I do notice that I feel bad when I don’t do it - as do my long-suffering family.

I’ve been sick for the last few days, with a non-Covid-Covidy-thing, and now that the snot is starting to subside I can feel massive bitch mode descending. I’ve tried to scratch the itch by signing up for a couple of races early next year and calenderising my London Marathon training plan, but it’s not the same. Get me my endorphins quick or I’ll have to become an internet troll.   

Oh and by the way - three of the people concerned about my excess weight putting a strain on my knees said that it will catch up with me when I hit 40. Since I hit 40 two and a half years ago and these days am MUCH more self-conscious about looking old than looking fat, I am choosing to take this as a huge compliment - as well as evidence that they didn’t actually read the piece, which mentioned my age.

PS. My knees, so far, are fine, but I know three gorgeous women around my age with knees that are varying degrees of fucked, and they are very willowy. Why, it’s almost as if you can’t diagnose someone’s medical issues just by looking at them.

PPS. If you enjoyed reading this, please consider sharing it with a friend, no matter the state of their knees.