Beth Smith (@glasgowsouthsideslowies) and Scottee (@scotteeisfat) share their experiences of the running world as larger runners and what they feel could be done to make it more accessible to a wide range of body types

RW: exercises to help you live four years longer?

Scottee: ‘I saw Fern Britton running and thought she looks like she's having fun. So I gave it a go. I started running in a gym because I was very fearful. I got into it by accident really, and I started talking about it on the internet by accident, and then other people started listening to me...’

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Beth: ‘I saw on Facebook that Glasgow Southside Slowies were starting a How to train like an Olympian. Before that I saw runners as the epitome of fitness and thought, “Oh, that's not for me”. But the post said it was for slow runners, people who had never run before, and it didn't matter what you look like, so I thought I'll dip my toe in. And that was it.’

RW: What put you off running initially?

Scottee: ‘We live in a deeply fat-phobic society and when you're exercising in public it's a very visible thing. When you're running as a fat person, you're only ever considered to be amateur or in transition – you're doing it because you're deeply ashamed of who you are and it's therefore the public's right to shout things at you on the street. I think a lot of women runners can also relate to how being in public and moving gives agency for people to shout things. It felt like a very frightening thing to do, so doing it in a gym on a treadmill felt easier, because I could go at 11 o'clock and be surrounded by other folk who were a bit like me, and be less intimidated by that space. Then before I knew it I thought, I'm actually really good at this!. And I moved house and my only option was to run on a canal and that was the first time I did a wild run – and it was okay. Again, I created these environments where it could feel safe, but now I just run whenever. That doesn't mean people don't shout things, but I bought more expensive headphones and now I don't care.’

runner participating in a race on a rugged trail
Aldo Pezzani

RW: Is there a point when other people’s perceptions of you cease to matter?

Scottee: ‘Folk will think the same things about me whether I'm running or walking past them, so I thought I can just get away from them quicker! And there's the joy that comes afterwards. I'm running towards some delicious chemicals in my brain; some lovely, less fizzy energy. That’s the purpose for me, but also when I run now I'm kind of familiar to some folk. So they may cheer me on, or wave, or send me an Instagram message and that then spurs you on. You want to be more visible for other people.’

Beth: ‘It's nuanced, as a plus size runner, everyone thinking you're sort of in transition. A lot of people are well-intentioned, shouting encouragement. But when I’m just out for a 20-minute plod I think, thanks, but you probably wouldn't be shouting those things at someone who looked like a runner.

When I first started, being out of breath, being red in the face, sweaty – all those things you are when you're running – they felt connected to my weight. I was getting the same embarrassment as if I was out of breath walking up the stairs. If I was running past someone trying to catch a breath, I'd assume they’d think it's because of my weight and not because I've just run six miles. It was really hard to break that connection. For me, it was a safety in numbers thing. Running with the slowies there's lots of people that look like you, going slow or out of breath, and it's really validating to think there's actually tons of us.’

‘I think running culture sees us as amateur. At its most toxic it sees us as “joggers”, and that annoys me.

RW: Do you think running content on social media adds pressure to look a certain way?

Beth: ‘There are some incredible content creators like Scottee who are changing the way people look at running, but sometimes fat runners or slow runners have been co-opted by people who actually look like traditional runners. There are people doing amazing things in the space to make it seem more accessible, but there are also people taking advantage of it a wee bit.’

Scottee: ‘This reminds me of the concept within fat liberation of good fat and bad fat. The idea that ‘good’ fat is to be a fat person in transition, that wants to change, that doesn't see fat as a permanence. There’s the same with slow running, right? There's a good look of a slow runner who can wear the brands, who does fit the archetype, but they're running at a slower pace. Whereas what does bad slow look like?

Beth: ‘Yeah, I'm a slow runner, I'm a fat runner, and I'm probably always going to be a slow fat runner. That’s just who I am.’

Scottee: ‘I think running culture sees us as amateur. At its most toxic it sees us as “joggers”, and that annoys me. We need to reframe the idea of a fat runner. We’re very accustomed to seeing athlete challenges on the internet, and if we saw one of these challenges where a guy ran a half marathon with 65kg on his back, people would be, like, ‘Incredible!’. I do that three times a week. I'm just not carrying it on my back. I think fat runners are incredible and the rest of you need to catch up! A fat body is double the mass of some runners, so there's a real strength there.’

participant celebrating after completing a running event
Beth Smith

RW: What are some of the barriers faced by would-be runners with different body types?

Scottee: ‘One issue is simply clothes to run in. Most brands don't produce clothing for fat folk. When I see a fat runner, I see the hours of investment trying to adapt, change or look at comparable pieces of clothing, or the money spent importing clothing into the UK to partake in a sport that’s supposed to be for everybody. There are many barriers to access, but just that basic of having something to wear is a massive barrier.’

Beth: ‘It's just one way in which our insecurities are manifest: ‘Oh, god forbid I go running in a big, baggy t-shirt because maybe that's all that fits me. But then also that kind of adds to people looking at us as if we're as you say joggers or amateurs.’

Scottee: ‘It also comes back to visibility: Where are the fat folk? Where are body diverse folk at the expos, the brand launches? Where are they when a brand is doing a pre- or a post-race event? We're not invited. We're not part of that conversation. I'd say to brands: “Do better. Try harder.”’

RW: Does running make you feel positive about your body? Do you celebrate that as a larger runner you’re doing something that’s actually harder?

Scottee: ‘Before I answer that I want you to rehearse saying, “fat runner”. We dance around it but we need to get comfortable with it because it’s just a descriptor for a body, like a “short” runner or “tall” runner. We should rehearse saying it because we take the sting out of it. But yeah, of course it’s a positive feeling when I hit a certain number and remember that a year ago that felt really hard. There’s that element of what your body can do, be that distance or time, or even just “I've been doing this for two years now”. That gives me a sense of pride.’

Beth: ‘I definitely get a sense of pride from running, but my experience after running my first half marathon recently shows where maybe things get a wee bit in my head. I’d just had this massive achievement, I’d only cried, like, three times, so I should have been really proud of myself, but then I was seeing videos of me crossing the finish line. I was seeing pictures of me and, you know, it's not the most flattering angles, your body's jiggling all over the place, there's a lot of sweat. I was trying really hard to be proud, but I wished I’d looked as amazing as I felt. It triggers this conversation in my head where body positivity and feeling good about myself becomes a choice. I have to get rid of what society has taught me and what I think other people are thinking of me. I have to choose in that moment to think, no, that's a massive achievement, I've run incredibly far, I'm carrying extra weight, it was really bloody difficult. It's a choice to recognise all those achievements over just looking at my weight crossing the finish line.’

RW: Do you think people struggle with the idea that you’re into running but not interested in losing weight?

Beth: ‘Ever since I started running, I had in mind that maybe I'll lose weight, but it's not been the case. When you're training for a long race you're eating more – I put on weight in half marathon training. It's totally counter to what our critics might think and I'm thinking, well, what more do you want me to do? I'm running safely, I'm making sure my body's fuelled, I'm looking after myself. I'm the fittest I've been in my life, but I just don't look how you think I should look.’

Scottee: ‘It can be messy moving through the running community saying: I'm not transitional, I don't need you to be a doctor. I don't need you to be a nutritionist. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm not saying that you have to own this body. I'm just looking for a bit of space to be able to run.

We live in a culture that’s regressing to dangerous stereotypes around the body. It’s created an environment where it’s not unheard of for me to have four or five messages a day of people showing faux concern, or saying you're going to die, or wilful death threats. This is the reality we have to acknowledge by being a fat person taking up some form of public space. If you look at moments when I've had videos go viral, it's full of “Yeah, but you're gonna die”. There’s this determination from other people to predict your death. And it's only when you move as a fat person that suddenly they want to keep you alive. So it's a double-edged sword sometimes being visible, because lots of people have opinions on your health. We have to re-educate sections of the running community in basically, “stick to your own lane”.’

a person with curly hair wearing a white shirt facing slightly to the side
Scottee

RW: What everyones reading?

Beth: ‘Just go out there and try to block out the noise. You're running for your own reasons, whether that’s health, fitness, or trying to make your brain feel better. Just do your own run. Don't care about what anyone else is saying. And find your people. I wouldn't have been able to continue running without this running group who have created a really inclusive and safe space.’

Scottee: ‘I think an admission of the greatest fears: Yes, your boobs are gonna jiggle, your belly is gonna go up and down, you’re gonna be sweaty and be a hot mess in public. And that’s fine. It will be tricky. People will stare. Some people might say things, but you get to be part of a gang, like a running club, on your terms; you get to partake in a sport which is largely quite fun. Also, if you need an internet fat brother, if you need to ask where to buy half tights or chub-rub cream, or where's a safe place to start, then slide into the DMs. The resources are low so we can only really be there for each other. And I mean that across difference, because it's not just fat folks affected by this. Running can come across as very monocultural, and the algorithms endorse that. But there are some of us out there who don't fit that narrow idea of what a runner should be.’

RW: lsquo;How I overcame paralysis and ran a half marathon&rsquo?

Beth: ‘I find the act of running really bloody difficult, but the minute I finish a run, I feel incredible about myself. Part of it is moving on from all those voices in my head and in public saying that someone who looks like me wouldn't be able to do it. And the rush of endorphins is incredible. Then there’s the sense of community. It's honestly changed my life. I hated cross-country at school. I was always last – the teachers had already gone inside and I was still out there. It was horrendous and probably one of the things that started my body dysmorphia. Now, as a jog leader, I often do the backstop of our runs so again I'm always crossing the finish line last, but now I get so much joy from it.’

Scottee: ‘I've lived with mental health challenges since I was 14. Sometimes I see things that aren't there and I think I'm in a TV programme. I live with psychosis and running does so much to turn that busy brain into just one foot in front of the other and breathe. Then for a few hours afterwards, there’s the peace, the joy. Since I started running, I’ve felt the sanest, the calmest, and felt like I can hold and shape all that stuff and be well. But there's also a lot of joy when people say to me, I started running because you were talking about it, and you messaged me where I could get some wide fit shoes, and I just finished my London Marathon. Part of me just wants to burst into tears because we’re all here encouraging each other. I get a lot of joy from other people's joy.’