I was a bold and confident little girl, rarely deterred by hard work or the less glamorous side of sports. My mother says I did backflips off the diving board when I was four years old, right around the time I began my intrepid gymnastics “career.”
When I was in high school, still tall and “big-boned,” my friend Jacquelyn and I started shot put—the coach discovered her when he saw her lovingly punch me in the arm during class. The next thing I knew, it was spring track season, and JQ and I met Mia, a more seasoned shot-putter, at the school gym, where we were instructed to spot each other at the bench press so we could. This was in Atlanta in the early ’90s—before Michelle Obama’s arms made headlines, mind you, but I loved the challenge.
Then I graduated college, often moving to small towns where I didn’t have many friends, as I worked toward fulfilling my dreams to become a journalist. Suddenly my physical appearance was tied to my job success . I had to think on my toes on live TV, work my sources and storytelling abilities, and look good doing it. Let's be real—TV is a visual medium. And in my early 20s, I was feeling like I needed to be very mindful of my physical appearance on camera.
One reason, I think, is because I knew I needed an outlet where I could just work it all out and feel strong in my skin, and I found that sanctuary in. Several times a week in the morning, I would ride front row with total strangers—strangers who became my community. Just like my shot put days, SoulCycle made me feel strong and liberated.
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