B's Reviews > Good for a Girl: A Woman Running in a Man's World

Lauren Fleshman is a decorated professional runner. She began running as a teen, and her ability, grit, and dedication led her to Stanford, and then under Nike's payroll. However, because she's a woman she was often undervalued, ignored, and expected to professionally present like a man (that is: not get pregnant, not have curves/soft bits to her body, not bring up menstruation despite the fact that a woman's period affects performance). This book is her examination of all that time, what it meant to be a female athlete then, and what it could mean in the future.

I ate this book up. Anyone who enjoys running, or struggles with body image, or struggles with disordered eating, or struggles with expectation, will see themselves in Fleshman's narrative.

We don't talk about the unique pressures that are put on female athletes. Our bodies hold more fat because of our biological ability to carry children. To demand we shed all fat is asinine. There is an expectation that women need to accept that they must be thin and that they will be sexualized and objectified regardless if they're walking along the beach or if they're a professional athlete. I never put too much thought into the fact that female running kits are glorified bathing suits themselves. Why? And why did Fleshman have to fight so hard to run in what felt best to her: loose shorts. Because leering men. Folks should be focused on female performance, not female bodies. We still have a long way to go.

My one gripe is the section toward the end of the book that just felt like a list of accomplishments / low key advertisements for her endeavors outside of racing: the nut bars she made and marketed, the blog she created that took off, her partnership with Oiselle. I think it was her way of being like "ah, I want to end this book but I have all this other stuff to say. Shit. Ah, well, here's a quick rundown!" But it felt rushed and had a different tone than the rest of the book. A tone that, if taken out of context, sounded a bit like "look at me I'm amazing I'm so smart and successful wheeee." I'd hate to say it was off-putting, but, like, it wasn't not, you know? I honestly don't think she meant it, but I wish her editor had tweaked that section.

My petty grumblings aside, I really loved this memoir. Fleshman bares her soul to us: how disordered eating alters how you view yourself and food, how we can get so focused on an outcome or goal that we lose our "why." These are incredibly difficult things to discuss with a therapist, nevermind in a book that's going out into the world for everyone to read. But she did. She should be so proud. Her father would be, too.