Harder, Better, Pasta, Stronger

I have eaten pasta every day this week, twice most days. Shells, spaghetti, penne, mini macaroni, the lot. I’ve scoffed so much that I’m turning into a human version of the statue Kramer makes for Jerry Seinfeld out of dried pasta -Fusilli Gina.

Magazines are stuffed with so many women claiming never to eat carbs, it feels subversive to talk about my love for pasta. I think that’s what inspired yesterday’s post and my worry over what constitutes a good motive for running.

Running to lose (or, more likely, stay the same) weight is usually laudable and sensible, but running out of guilt for having eaten a sandwich is not. This is because:

1. It turns a delicious sandwich eating experience into a crime; and
2. It turns a good run into a punishment for this supposed crime.

The obsession with being thin over being healthy is one I try my best to ignore, but it’s hard. Runners’ magazines are just as bad as fashion ones at prizing the benefits of abnormally low body fat over those of maintaining a healthy weight. Their excuse is that top athletes need to be thin to be fast, but most of their readers will never be that fast, or that thin. Are they providing positive role models or fostering an unhealthy obsession?

Today I did my bit for sense, science and feminism by eating a pile of pasta and then going to the gym.