Acceptable Discrimination?

An open letter to Dick’s Sporting Goods and all stores of their ilk:

When a company touts themselves as a “sporting goods store,” one would think they are a purveyor of all things athletic. I was impressed when I walked into the glossy, fancy Dick’s Sporting Goods – it was clean, bright, and welcoming. That welcome, however, wore out as soon as I realized there was nothing there for me.

I am an athlete. I may not look like an athlete to you, DICK’s, but I enjoy many of the same pursuits as the athletes you feel are more “acceptable.” It is disheartening, to say the least, to be excited to get a windbreaker, perhaps some new leggings, or even a freakin’ sweatshirt, and find that there is not one plus size article of clothing to be had in your store.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I will admit that I can fit into larger-sized men’s athletic clothes, BUT I SHOULDN’T HAVE TO.

Discrimination against the obese is one of the last “acceptable” forms of judgement. In some ways, I get it. You look at people like me and see a fat person; you assume you are looking at someone who eats like shit, someone who doesn’t care about their appearance, and someone who is unhealthy. You, DICK’s, couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, providing your heavier customers with a selection of plus size athletic gear would be a tip of the hat to those of us who endeavor to be active.

Listen, I don’t expect to walk into every store and find something in my size. I’m not going to stroll into The Gap, Urban Outfitters, or J. Crew and expect to find something in my size, because hey are not stores for plus size women. However, you and your ilk are SPORTING GOODS STORES. You should make a point to fit all athletes, not just the ones who wear under an XL.

The fat athletes are here. We are not going away. Whenever an obese athlete comes to your stores and can’t find their size, you are losing money. You lost money yesterday, DICK’s, simply because you couldn’t add an extra couple of racks for a plus size athlete. In fact, you’ve lost even more cash, because I will not patronize your store in the future, no matter what my size, and I will not recommend you to my “normal sized” friends, either.

With disdain,

Erin Merritt, Fat Athlete

P.S. For my friends out there looking for plus size cycling gear, check out Fat Lad at the Back (https://fatladattheback.com/) in the UK. They are inspirational and just frickin’ awesome.

The Dirty Duel

This past weekend I “raced” in the Dirty Duel – a 3.6 trail run through Robinette’s, Provin, & Kuyper College Trails. This race is touted as “the toughest 5K you’ll ever run,” and is a Trail Runner Magazine “Top 15 fall race under 15 miles.”

WHAT THE F&%K WAS I THINKING?

It was around 25° that morning. Even for me, that’s cold. I made sure that Jameson and I were both prepared – we got gloves, base layers, windbreakers, and hats. As we left for the race that morning I was predictably sweating to death, but was thankful for the extra layers come start time.  

There were approximately 680 runners. A couple of folks were wearing shorts. It was insane.

When everyone started lining up, I gravitated toward the back of the pack. I was told by the race organizers that slow runners and walkers were asked to leave last, so as not to clog up the trails. This meant that I was separated from the more experienced runners in our group, including my darling son. He was planning to run the “Short & Brutal” course, while I was opting to walk the “Long & Difficult.” I was feeling pretty OK. I was nervous, but there were several other participants around me, so I figured I wouldn’t be alone. Boy, was I wrong.

The runners were released about twenty at a time. When it came to my group, it quickly became apparent that I WAS THE ONLY PERSON walking this course. After my wave was released, I was immediately passed by the remaining runners/joggers, and was alone for the rest of the race. I mean, completely alone. I didn’t see anyone in front, or behind me the entire course.

The race twisted and curved through the woods, the Kuyper College campus, the orchard, and then again through the woods. There were times where I was legitimately worried that I was lost, because I was so far in, on a tiny single track trail, with no discernible direction. The only thing that was keeping my fear at bay was the sounds of traffic coming from the Beltline. I knew that if darkness fell, I could probably make it back to civilization before the threat of hypothermia and starvation became a reality.

So I walked. I kept walking. I talked to myself, I sang a song, I cursed, and I almost cried, but I soldiered on. I’m here to tell you, dear friends, that the Dirty Duel was completely brutal. I went on a 3.6 mile hike, completely alone, terribly out-of-shape, and completely unprepared.

And then I was finished. Just like that.

My tribe was waiting for me, having changed to warmer clothes, and stuffed themselves with fresh, warm donuts and cider. There were pictures taken, and I got the report on everyone else’s race (two of our group made it to the podium, which is so inspiring). My son gave me a huge hug. I was approached by one of the race coordinators, and was given a special prize from Merrell (one of the sponsors) for finishing LAST.

Yep, I finished dead last. Other than the fact that all of you can look up my time online, you may be wondering why I’m admitting to my last place finish at the Dirty Duel. You may be asking yourselves why I would put my failure out here for everyone to see; that everyone will now know out 680 participants I came in LAST. Here’s your answer:

I SHOWED UP. I took forever, it was really, really hard, but I finished the course. There were nine other people who didn’t finish that day, and 80+ people that didn’t even show up.  

I DID NOT FAIL. I finished. End of story.

I SPENT TIME WITH REAL ATHLETES. All of whom were exceedingly kind and encouraging. Those people don’t owe me anything, but I believe they see potential in me, and appreciate the fact that I’m trying to change my stars.

I DIDN’T GIVE UP. Jameson saw me cross the finish line, even though I had struggled. I jet-packed in, and it was epic. 

You guys, my son saw me.