Outrunning Beauty Standards

In which the great outdoors is the greatest blusher I will ever find.

I stumbled into a lunchtime conversation this week that gave me a lot of pause for thought. The topics being discussed were skincare regimes, make-up and plastic surgery. A lifetime ago, I had a regime, I wore make-up every day and was firmly against any sort of surgical/non-surgical intervention. All of that has now flipped. I only realised it in that moment. Voices went blurry, time went whirly, and I twirled my Itsu pot noodle in silence.

A quick note on the surgical/non-surgical intervention thing: I watched Skin Decision on Netflix where skin and beauty expert Nurse Jamie and plastic surgeon Dr. Sheila Nazarian make small changes to transform peoples’ lives. It’s a very moving programme. Treatments and tweakments have their place. I just find it unnerving when a forehead doesn’t move, and when lips look like they’re about to burst. I refer you to this somewhat poetic rant by Kyla Cobbler:

Indeed. Long live “The slightly feral ladies that can start fires on damp ground.” (Thank you to my beautiful friend Rebecca who sent me Kyla’s Furious and Jacked monologue. If you haven’t seen it, watch it after this one.)

As a runner, sweating and dragging my face through tree branches, maybe I should look after my skin better. (Or should I? Isn’t that all our ancestors did?) At best, I rub some cleanser on it and wash it with a flannel. I put moisturiser on when I remember. I own a pot of night cream, I bought it with good intentions after watching Skin Decision, but it’s been sat in the bathroom cupboard for about 6 months. I rarely bother with make-up because I tend to cycle most places, and any nuance in blusher and highlighter will be lost by the time I arrive at work. The mascara irritates my eyes in the wind, never mind the rain. I rarely have time to do make-up anyway, because I’ve been for a run that morning, and I’m already economising my time by planning my outfit while I’m running.

The priority is the run. Once upon a time, looking sharp and presentable took priority. The shift has been so gradual I haven’t noticed it change. But I do know this:

When I ran (and won) the Tjörnarparen 50 mile race in Sweden, I felt more beautiful than I have ever felt in my life. I was a bit sweaty, probably smelly, a bit muddy, probably snotty, with sticky gel juice on my hands. In the exact moment the beautiful feeling began, I was completely alone in the forest, about 30 miles deep, shuffling through loose leaves and skipping over fallen branches. I was winning, and my world was extremely small and simple: eat, drink, move in the right direction. I’d recently been dumped by a silly boy, and I realised that neither he, nor any man for that matter, could make me feel as strong, powerful and remarkable as I did then. Only I could. That degree of beauty can only be intrinsically sought. And I’d found it.

While I stirred my Itsu pot noodle, I realised that my internal dialogue around how I want to present myself has become just that: internal. I think drinking water, eating vegetables, getting enough sleep and exercising are the best things I can do to make me feel pretty. When I wake up and am anxious about a big day ahead, I go for a run, come home feeling glittery, shower, and get after it. My approach used to be to meticulously curl my hair and allow plenty of time to apply perfect make-up. All of that is fun, but it’s time that for me, I believe, personally, could be better spent.

If I go out and run 10 miles in the morning, I’m closer to being the kind of beautiful I felt in that race. With that kind of beauty, I don’t care what anyone thinks of how I look. I might then chuck on some mascara and some blusher for myself, but my hair is probably still damp from the shower, I’m probably in desperate need of some breakfast and I need a glass of water. But I am vibrant inside.

Different people will have different things that make them feel this way. I also feel extremely beautiful swimming in wild water. Maybe for you it’s after spending time with good friends, with family, after meditating or after a wholesome walk. It doesn’t just apply to my view of myself, I’ve seen that beauty in my friends, too. After a race, after a Parkrun, after a Sunday jog, we absolutely glow. The most beautiful women in the world will be sat together having a coffee and a bun in their running kit on a Saturday morning. (I miss you, ladies.)

I guess I just wanted to write something in defence of myself. I wobbled, I wondered if I’d got it wrong, I wondered if I should reassess my priorities. But also, there’s no single route to beauty. Finding different ways to present ourselves to the world is really fun, if it is positively and intrinsically motivated. At the moment, I am in my feral era, and it feels like rebellion, it feels like fire, it feels electric to be plain-faced with a beanie hat over my wild hair. It’s about however you feel most confident, isn’t it, and at the moment this is how I’m expressing my femininity, the strongest and most liberated way I know how.

On a long run, eating an apple, feeling epic.